Michael's POV
I had always had a thing for Kelly wearing a pencil skirt since she started working in the company.
It was irrational, almost embarrassing, how specific it was. But it was about the cut of it, the way the fabric hugged her hips before loosening just enough to suggest movement.
And the slit at the back that showed me exactly how her thighs worked when she walked, how muscle and softness met in a way that made my thoughts turn unprofessional long before I ever touched her.
She’d worn it several times before,every time, I’d noticed. And every single time, I’d forced myself to look away, because I couldn't do anything about it.
That morning, when she walked into my office carrying a slim blue folder against her chest, I saw the green fabric before I saw her face. The colo
