The first week after that night in Dante's sanctuary passed in a blur of stolen moments and whispered promises.
We were insatiable.
I'd wake to find him watching me sleep, his fingers tracing patterns on my bare shoulder. We'd make love in the morning light, slow and languid, before the world demanded our attention. Then I'd try to work while he conducted business, both of us hyperaware of each other's presence, the tension building until one of us broke.
Sometimes it was him—pulling me into his lap during a phone call, his hand sliding under my skirt while he discussed shipment routes with Marco, his eyes daring me to make a sound.
Sometimes it was me—walking into his office in nothing but his shirt, watching his control snap as he cleared his desk with one sweep of his arm and took m
