The meeting had started twenty minutes ago. Charts flickered on the screen. Men spoke. Deals were being discussed. Something about expansion… international… logistics?

You weren’t listening.

You sat at the long glass table, legs crossed, trying to look composed, professional—like you belonged here. Like you weren’t slowly falling apart inside. Because your mind wasn’t in the room.

It was on last night.

Rafe. Your husband. Your boss. The only person who could make you forget your own name.

His hand gripping your throat—not to hurt, just to own. Your back arching under his weight. The low sound he made when he slid into you—raw, slow, deep. It wasn’t just sex. It was worship. And destruction.

He’d murmured filth into your ear. Told you what you did to him. How pretty you looked with tears in your eyes. How much he loved ruining you.

And you? You loved it. Every second. Every bruise. Every breathless high.

Now, in this high-rise boardroom, you were struggling to breathe—again. But for a very different reason.

Your thighs pressed together under the table. You hadn’t even noticed you were squirming until you felt a familiar touch.

Rafe’s fingers slid along your thigh under the table—subtle, slow. Just enough pressure to pull you right back into your body. You blinked. Looked at him.

He didn’t smile. Didn’t need to.

“Earth to my pretty wife,” he murmured low, just for you. His voice was smooth, laced with amusement. “You been zoning out this whole meeting.”

You swallowed hard. “Sorry… I was—”

“I know what you were thinking about.” His tone darkened slightly, his hand now squeezing your thigh. Possessive. Like a silent mine. “Your face gives you away.”

You flushed. He was right. You probably looked like a fever dream—cheeks pink, lips parted, eyes dazed.

You tried to focus. Turned toward the screen, pretending to care about market trends, pretending not to notice his fingers still tracing lazy circles against your skin.

But then—he leaned in. His lips brushed your ear.

“Next time you zone out like that, I’m gonna make it worth it.” A pause. “Gonna bend you over that boardroom table. Let the glass catch your reflection.”

Your breath hitched. You didn’t move. You couldn’t.

He leaned back like nothing happened. Eyes on the screen. Calm. Casual. But under the table, his hand was still on your thigh.

And you were still throbbing for him.