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I don't take her home.
I take her to the rental I keep outside the city. It's supposed to be for clients or when I need to crash after late showings. Lately, it's been something else. Somewhere I can go where nobody's watching.
Alyssa walks in like she owns the place, slipping off her heels at the door and stretching like a cat in heat. She doesn't ask questions. She knows what this is.
And yet, we don't leave it at that one day in the mansion.
We keep seeing each other.
Secretly.
Carefully.
Always under the radar.
Sometimes it's a late-night visit after a "meeting." Sometimes she pops up on me mid-day, wrapped in a trench coat with nothing underneath. I know it's reckless. I know it's wrong. But there's something about her I can't leave alone.
She's dangerous in the way sugar is to teeth — sweet, addictive, and guaranteed to rot something if I keep her in my mouth too long.
Alyssa's lips are still wet from that kiss, and her hand hasn't moved from my print. I should pull away. I should say something smart, responsible... married. But my mind has already clocked out and let my body take over.
Her tongue glides across her bottom lip as she watches me fight with myself.
"You're shaking," she whispers, dragging her fingers just under the waistband of my pants. "That's not guilt. That's anticipation."
"Alyssa..." I try again, but her name comes out like a moan. Weak. Useless.
She leans in, her breath hot on my neck. "If you really want me to stop... say so."
I open my mouth. Nothing comes out.
She smiles like she's already won. And maybe she has.
Alyssa grabs my hand and slides it up under her crop top. No bra. Her skin is soft, warm, her nipple hard against my palm.
"Tell me this isn't what you want," she murmurs, "and I'll walk out that door."
My hand squeezes her breast before I even realize what I'm doing.
Fuck.
That's all the confirmation she needs.
She pushes me against the front door, lips crashing into mine again, hungrier this time. Her kiss is wet, possessive — like she's marking me. She pulls my bottom lip between her teeth and sucks, slow and sensual.
My hands go to her hips, then lower, grabbing two handfuls of her ass through that tight designer skirt.
"You know I've been thinking about this since the other day" she whispers, her voice ragged, breathless. "I pictured you just like this. All buttoned up, acting like you're in control. But underneath... you just need somebody to take it."
