Grayson watched Honey's reaction carefully, noting the way her breath quickened at his deliberate movement against her. The conflict in her eyes told him everything, she wanted this as badly as he did, but her professional boundaries were warring with her desire. Her body was betraying her, responding to his touch even as her mind resisted.
Honey's hands pressed harder against the desk, her knuckles whitening as she fought the urge to lean back into him. The heat radiating from his body, the familiar scent of his cologne, the pressure of his arousal against her hip, all of it conspired to dissolve the careful walls she'd constructed.
"Yes, I'm sure," she managed, though her voice told a different story.
Grayson's hand slid from her waist, but he didn't step back. Instead, he braced both
