The city lights spilled through the tall windows, casting gold across the polished floors of his penthouse. I sank into the deep leather of the sofa, heels kicked off, wine glass warm in my hand. The air was thick with tension—almost electric—and I could feel him before I saw him.
Ahmir leaned against the doorway, silhouette dark and sharp, a faint curl of a smirk tugging at his lips. His gaze devoured me, slow and deliberate, like he could measure every pulse in my body from across the room.
“I’ve been thinking about this,” he said, voice low, rolling over me like heat. “Since the moment your pen touched that contract.”
There was hunger in his tone– not frantic or impatient. Just controlled hunger, the kind that a man carries when he knows time bends for him. I set my glass down, finge
