The door to my study creaked open without permission, and in she strutted like she owned the room.
She wore a clingy crimson dress, cut high at the thigh and low at the chest, so sheer it was more a suggestion than fabric. The neckline plunged dangerously, exposing the swell of her breasts with a thin silver chain resting between them. The slit climbed up to her hipbone, revealing smooth skin and the edge of lacy black undergarments she clearly intended me to notice.
My lips curled in disgust.
Her scent was suffocating. She reeked of lust and desperation. And I could smell how turned on she was. It made my stomach churn. She stalked toward me like a predator in heat, swaying her hips.
“Get out of my office,” I growled, rising to my feet.
She didn’t stop.
I narrowed my eyes.
“I said
