The collision wasn’t accidental.
It was engineered.
The morning carried a precision that felt almost rehearsed.
We arrived separately, as planned.
As required.
As necessary.
But the illusion was thinner now.
Because the distance between us was no longer real.
I stepped onto the executive floor with the same measured pace, the same neutral expression I had worn for months.
Nothing outward had changed.
Yet inside, everything had.
I still carried the ache from the night before—and from the raw morning on the kitchen counter. Shawn’s hands gripping my hips. His tongue between my legs until I came against his mouth. The thick thrust of his c**k bending me over the bed, filling me again while he growled that I was his. His c*m still lingered warm inside me as I walked these halls, a secr
