Isabela was still breathing heavily, her lips swollen from the kiss stolen minutes before, when Ricardo abruptly pulled her onto his lap.
The Italian leather chair creaked under their weight. Her bottom settled over his hard thighs, and she felt exactly how much he wanted her—the unmistakable rigidity pressing against her softest curve, even through the layers of expensive fabric.
"Is this... professional, Ricardo?" she whispered, feigning a reprimand that her trembling voice betrayed. Her fingers played with the knot of his tie, slowly pulling it loose.
His eyes darkened like a storm. One large hand wrapped around her waist, pulling her even closer, while the other slid up the slit of her dress, finding bare skin above her garter.
"Call me 'sir' again," he ordered, his lips tracing th
