Rafe Cameron—the CEO of Cameron estates. The boss. He managed everything, from the estates themselves to what people ate in the break room, he was in charge.

You wanna know something else he was in charge of? Your heart.

Every nerve ached for him, every action was for him—and him only—to see. Ever since you became his assistant, it was the only thing you could think of.

Impressing him.

Office secrets. That’s what you two liked to call them. Little kisses here and there, ‘accidental touches’ that were just enough to tip you over the edge, how you smelled like his cologne right after lunch break.

Today you were completely dressed for him. Wearing a fitted short skirt that should’ve gotten you fired—but didn’t, and a tight top that was cut lower than your morals.

You entered his office, closing the door. Rafe was there, sitting at his desk and reading papers. His eyes dragged off the papers and onto you.

And god, did he stare.

For at least two minutes, eyes grazing over your body like you were a fucking model. “New skirt?” He manages to croak out, his voice tight—and so were his pants.

“Mhm,” You hum casually, dropping the files on his desk. “Does it look good?” You ask, turning around just right. “Jesus,” Rafe groans, getting up and towering over you. “It would look better on my office floor.”