The kiss should’ve been a mistake.

Something we pretended didn’t happen.

But it wasn’t.

Because ever since that night, I couldn’t stop replaying it—over and over again. The way his hands gripped my body like I was something sacred. The way he made me come with just his fingers and a growl in my ear. The way he looked torn apart after, like kissing me broke something inside him.

And maybe it did.

Because three days passed, and he didn’t speak to me. Not in meetings. Not ...