I asked her to become my wife because I’m turning forty, and socially and career-wise, marriage is the right choice. That, and Rachel checks off most of my boxes.

I walk over and pour myself a bourbon as my door opens.

“You want a drink?” I call out, then look up.

Time stops—it ceases to exist as I watch her walk toward me. Slowly I bring the expensive scotch to my lips.

“Hello, Mr. Powers.” Slightly raspy, her voice does it for me. My cock almost throbs as if he needs to remind me that the object of his obsession is here.

“Hello, beautiful.” My eyes take her in. Stunning can’t even begin to describe this creature who’s walking toward me.

Breathtaking… that’s close. She truly is exquisite, and it’s not the dress or shoes; it’s the way she holds her head up, her shoulders back. Her air of confidence, it’s like an aphrodisiac.

She takes my breath away. My eyes dip to her red lips that smirk as if she knows. I bring the drink to my lips and shoot my fifty-year-old liquor, which is supposed to be savored, letting the sting and burn add to the ongoing pain merely thinking about her has brought me.

But now she’s here, in my office, and I’m not gonna wait anymore.

I almost growl as I set the glass down with a loud thud and reach for her, jerking her to me.

“Jett.” She gasps as my hand snakes into her thick, dark hair and pulls her head back.

“What did you call me?” I unbutton my belt with my other hand.

“I…” Her eyes are like giant-sized saucers, and suddenly all I want is to wake up every morning seeing them. What the hell, Jett?

I’m wound up too tight. I should have jerked off, released the poisons, because I’m not thinking straight as I take her lips and growl into her cherry mouth. My tongue instantly tangles with hers as she digs her nails into my forearms. Electric energy zings through us, and for some reason this angers me.

“Fuck.” I lift my head. Her lips are already swollen from my bruising kiss, but her eyes… they sparkle like gems in the sunlight.

She likes it rough, not that I even care. I’m not in the mood to be anything but what I really am. I spin her around, and she instinctively grabs the edge of my desk.

“You don’t talk, you don’t come until I say so,” I hiss and jerk my slacks down, releasing my swollen, angry erection. I try to breathe, which is not easy—by just looking at her ass in this dress and her long legs in those heels, I’m gonna humiliate myself like a teenager if I’m not careful.

“Lean forward.” My hand lowers her chest to my desk. She takes in small, fast breaths.