Olivia Westview
The air was still thick with the aftermath as I adjusted my skirt and smoothed out my blouse in the small bathroom adjacent to James's penthouse office.
My reflection stared back at me, a flush high on my cheeks, my lips swollen from his relentless kisses. My legs still trembled, and I had to grip the edge of the counter to steady myself. It was satisfying, like it always was with him—better, even, now that there was an us.
There was a thrill, too, that came from knowing where we were. The penthouse office. Sinclair Industries. Our headquarters. Below us, the lobby was alive with chatter and music, everyone celebrating the merger that James and I had worked so hard on. And here we were, stealing moments away from it all. It felt almost reckless. But James? James thrived
