
Frank was never supposed to see me like this—older, desperate, watching him through the glass of his office. So much younger than me, yet he's my boss, untouchable, married, straight. Until now.
The door slides open. His voice is low and dangerous: "Jed."
I freeze. There's no anger in his eyes—only hunger.
"I saw you," he says, stepping closer. The air between us becomes difficult to breathe. "And now I want to know why."
My pulse roars. This isn't about punishment. It's something darker, something neither of us should want but do anyway.
He leans in, his breath hot against my ear. "Tell me what you imagined," he whispers. "And maybe I'll let you live it."
I should run. But the way he looks at me—as if I'm finally worth something—makes me stay.
This isn't discipline.
It's how much I want him.
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