[MATURE CONTENT] "This is so wrong," I mustered the energy to say. "We shouldn't be doi-" my words faltered as my body almost gave out, unable to bear his intoxicating assault on my neck. "You know you want me," he said, drawing his head back up so I could glare into his eyes. "Stop denying yourself." Whilst one hand stayed firm on my hip, forcing my bum into the wall, the other trailed down my side and cupped my warm heat through my leggings. I bit back a moan. His hand ventured back up and I almost let out an embarrassing whine of protest, until they were pulling my shirt up to rest over my boobs. I almost orgasmed right there at the way he was looking at my bare breasts. "Naughty girl," I just heard him mutter through my fogged mind as he took in the sight of me. He bent down until I could feel the warmth of his breath on my skin, eliciting another round of goosebumps. "It's still w-wrong," I said, but this time I could no longer suppress my moan as he took my nipple into his mouth. If it was so wrong, why did it feel so mind-numblingly right?

A standalone novel with Prosecutor Aubrielle Baxter's Point of View

A classic 1940's style mystery... "Secretary Murders Widowed Mistress in Adelaide Love Nest!" Vivian Sherlock glanced from the screaming headline on her daily newspaper to the pale young man sitting on the other side of her desk. "Nigel is innocent!" insisted the young man.