I woke up aching in places I didn’t even know could ache.My throat was dry. My legs still trembled. My thighs were sore in the most obscene way.

And the space beside me in the bed was empty.

At first, I thought maybe he’d left. That this was the kind of encounter that burned fast and disappeared faster.

But then I caught the scent on the pillow beside mine.

Him.

Cedar. Musk. Something darker. Like leather and sin and sweat. My thighs clenched again at the memory of his mouth, the way his voice rasped against my ear like it had every right to live there.

I groaned and sat up, the hotel sheet falling to my waist. My breasts were bare, bruised slightly from his hands, his mouth. My skin was covered in a constellation of faint bites and scratches that all told the same story.

He had devoured me.

I should have felt embarrassed.

But instead, I felt powerful.

Wanted.

Wrecked in the most intoxicating way.

I reached for the bottle of water on the nightstand and froze.

There was a note.

Two words. Scrawled in dark ink, sharp and fast like the way he had taken me.

Let's do this again. Room 1901. Hope to see you soon.

No name. Just that.

I smiled.

But I knew better.

No matter how good it was, this was supposed to be a one-night thing. I had rules for a reason. I didn’t do attachments. I didn’t do repeats.

Still… I pressed the note between my thighs and closed my eyes for a moment.

One more second of remembering the sound he made when he came. That deep, primal growl that echoed against my skin. The way he whispered “good girl” with a hand around my throat and his body buried deep inside me like he never wanted to leave.

Damn it.

I got dressed slowly, my body still tender. Black lingerie. High-waisted jeans. A silk blouse that I probably should have steamed before tossing in my bag. I tied my hair into a low bun and wiped away the mascara smudges that made me look freshly corrupted.

I didn't look back at the bed.

If I did, I’d crawl back in.

By the time I stepped into the elevator, I had convinced myself it was over. No names. No numbers. Just memories.

Filthy, perfect memories.

I did not expect to see him again.

Not in daylight.

And definitely not in the office I had just been hired into.

But two days later, there he was.

Leaning against the glass wall of the conference room, arms crossed, black button-down rolled at the sleeves, jaw tight with irritation as a team of interns scrambled to make sense of the files in front of them.

He hadn’t seen me yet.

Which was good. Because I was too busy trying not to let my panties melt.

I ducked behind the glass partition and took a deep breath.

What the actual hell?

This man was not just some random hotel hookup.

He was in the middle of the firm I had just joined as the executive assistant to their newest director.

A powerful, multimillion-dollar corporate brand.

The email I got said the founder himself was returning to oversee the next acquisition.

I remembered the name from the footer.

C. Roman Wolfe

Shit.

I walked around the corner, trying to act natural, like my body wasn’t already remembering every inch of him.

I stepped into the room with my file.

And froze when he turned.

His eyes locked on mine instantly.

Recognition hit him like a slap.

His mouth parted slightly.

He did not look pleased.

He looked… furious.

But underneath it?

There was heat.

Violent, unmistakable heat.

His gaze dropped to my mouth. Then lower. I saw the muscles in his jaw tick.

He wanted me again.

And he hated that he did.

“Miss Vale,” he said slowly, voice deep and clipped. “You are… not what I expected.”

His tone was polite. Cold. Public.

But his eyes?

They were undressing me all over again.

“I’m professional when I need to be,” I said, meeting his stare. “Don’t worry, Mr Wolfe. I don’t bite.”

He gave a short, humorless laugh.

“No. But you moan loud enough to shake the ceiling.”

The other intern dropped her pen.

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You’re wearing the same perfume.”

“I didn’t realize that was a crime.”

“It is,” he said, eyes burning into mine, “when all I can think about is what you sound like underneath me.”

I opened my mouth.

But he stepped past me, brushing his body against mine deliberately.

Just a hint of pressure at my hip.

Just enough to make me flash back to the way he pinned me down.

Then he leaned in and whispered,

“After this meeting, my office. Door locked.”

I didn’t answer.

I couldn’t.

But my body did.

And as I followed him into the room, I could feel the throb between my legs returning with every step.

He sat at the head of the table, all power and sharp edges, voice smooth as silk while he delivered instructions to the room. I took notes with shaky hands, trying not to let my thighs rub together under the table.

Every time he looked at me, I burned.

He knew what he was doing.

And I hated how much I loved it.

By the time the meeting ended, I was soaked.

He stood. Nodded at the others. Then turned to me.

“Miss Vale. A word.”

The others scattered like leaves.

I followed him.

And when the door to his office clicked shut, he turned and pulled me in by the waist so fast I gasped.

His mouth crashed into mine like we’d never stopped.

His hands were in my hair, my blouse, on my ass all at once.

“I’ve had to sit through forty-five minutes pretending I wasn’t thinking about fucking you across this desk,” he growled, pushing me back against it. “Now I’m done pretending.”

My blouse was open in seconds.

My bra shoved up.

His mouth found my nipple and sucked, hard, until I cried out.

I writhed against the wood as his fingers undid my pants, yanked them down, and slid two thick fingers inside me without warning.

“Still wet,” he rasped. “You’ve been aching for me this whole time.”

I gripped his shoulders, nails biting in.

He pumped harder, curling inside me with precision. My moans turned frantic. I reached for his belt.

“No,” he said. “You don’t touch. You take.”

And take, I did.

Right there. On his desk. Legs spread. Hands tied in his silk tie. Biting down moans while he filled me like he had every right.

Like he never planned to stop.