A slow, victorious smirk spread across Tom’s face.
“That’s what I thought,” he growled softly, leaning in to capture my lips in a deep, bruising kiss that completely erased the rest of the world.
For a heartbeat, my mind went completely blank.
His lips were ruthless, demanding, and filled with an undeniable possession that made my knees weak.
The scent of his cologne and the heat radiating from his chest wrapped around me like a trap.
I hated how fast my blood ran hot, how my breath hitched against his mouth as his grip tightened on my waist.
Then, the floorboards outside the study creaked.
“Rain?” Eric’s muffled voice echoed down the hallway, followed by the steady clack of his shoes on the wood.
“I’ve got the wine.
Are you still in there?” The shock snapped me back to reality like a bucket of ice water.
Panic spiked through my chest.
I pushed against Tom’s broad shoulders, my palms trembling against his chest as I pulled my mouth away from his.
“Tom, stop…
let go!” I breathed frantically, my voice barely a whisper.
“He’s right outside!” Instead of stepping back, Tom’s smirk only deepened.
He slowly trailed his thumb over my swollen bottom lip, his eyes locked onto mine with a dangerous, predatory calm.
“You’re shaking, Rain,” he murmured, his breath ghosting over my skin.
“Are you scared he’ll see us…
or are you scared of how much you wanted that?” The brass door handle clicked as it began to turn downward.
In a split second, Tom released my waist.
He stepped back with effortless grace, smoothing the cuffs of his shirt as if he were merely waiting for a business meeting to start.
By the time the heavy oak door swung open, he was standing near the mahogany desk, casually admiring an antique globe.
“Ah, there you are!” Eric stepped inside holding two crystal glasses and a bottle of red wine, completely oblivious to the suffocating tension in the room.
“I thought I heard voices.
Tom, I didn’t realize you were still in here.” My heart was hammering violently against my ribs, but I clutched my leather measuring tape tightly and forced a professional smile.
I took a single, courtesy sip of the red wine, the rich liquid doing nothing to soothe the dry tightness in my throat.
Every second spent inside that study felt like breathing thin air.
“It’s wonderful wine, Eric, thank you,” I said, setting the glass down on the mahogany table with a quiet clink.
“But I really must be going.
I want to organize these measurement sketches before the light fades completely.” “Of course, of course.
Let me walk you out,” Eric said warmly, gesturing toward the hallway.
As I gathered my tote bag, Tom stepped aside just enough to let me pass.
As I brushed past him, his gaze trailed down my back with a deliberate, heavy presence that made my skin prickle.
“I’ll look forward to seeing the final concepts, Rain,” Tom said smoothly, his voice laced with a subtle, dangerous promise.
“I’m sure you’ll deliver something…
unforgettable.” “I always aim to satisfy my clients,” I replied, keeping my head held high and refusing to look him in the eye as I stepped into the foyer.
Eric walked me to my sedan parked in the driveway.
The cool evening air hit my face, bringing a sudden wave of clarity.
“Drive safe, Rain.
Give my best to Ethan and James!” Eric called out with a warm wave.
“I will.
Goodnight, Eric.” I pulled out of the driveway, checking my rearview mirror.
In the soft glow of the porch light, I could see Tom standing near the front door beside Eric.
He didn’t wave.
He just stood there, watching my car disappear down the quiet, tree-lined street.
My hands were shaking on the steering wheel.
I was Ethan’s wife.
I had a good life, a respectable business, and a husband who trusted me.
Yet, inside that quiet study, holding my breath while Tom’s hands pressed into my waist, I hadn’t felt disgusted—I had felt alive.
And that was the most terrifying part of all.
When I finally unlocked the front door of our townhouse in Brooklyn, the familiar scent of lavender reed diffusers met me.
“Rain?
Is that you?” Ethan’s voice called out from the living room.
“Yeah, honey, it’s me,” I said, hanging my keys on the wall hook and taking off my shoes.
My voice sounded slightly hollow.
Ethan was sitting on the sofa with his laptop.
He stood up, stretching his arms, looking handsome as always in his relaxed navy t-shirt and grey sweatpants.
He walked over to wrap his arms around my waist, pulling me in for a warm, comfortable hug.
“How did it go at Eric’s place?” Ethan asked, pressing a gentle kiss against my temple.
“You were there pretty late.
Did the measurement take that long?” My heart gave a nervous flutter as his hands rested exactly where Tom’s had been.
The contrast was dizzying—Ethan’s touch was safe and routine; Tom’s was sharp and dangerous.
“Yeah…
it’s a massive property,” I said, leaning my head against his chest to hide the flushed look on my face.
“Eric wants a complete overhaul of the main floor first.” “That’s great, babe,” Ethan smiled, rubbing my back softly.
“Did you see Dad over there?” “No, James couldn’t make it.
Eric mentioned he sprained his ankle playing tennis earlier.” “Ah, typical,” Ethan chuckled softly.
“Did you meet anyone else while you were there?” My breath hitched for a split second.
“Just a couple of Eric’s friends.
A man named Joe who works for city planning, and Tom…
he owns a security firm, I think.” “Tom?” Ethan paused, setting his glass down.
“Ah, Tom Miller.
Yeah, Dad’s mentioned him a few times.
Former military guy.
He’s got a bit of a reputation, from what I hear.
A real alpha type.” “Is that so?” I murmured, fixing my eyes on the floor.
“Yeah, Dad said Tom’s the kind of guy who gets whatever he wants,” Ethan shrugged nonchalantly.
“Anyway, I’m just glad Eric liked your preliminary vision.” “Eric wants me back on Tuesday evening after dinner to take proper photographs with the SLR camera and finalize the measurements,” I said smoothly.
“Tuesday?
Sounds good,” Ethan said, pulling me closer again.
“That gives us the rest of the weekend to ourselves.” He kissed the side of my neck, his lips lingering against my skin.
Normally, this affectionate gesture would have melted me instantly.
But tonight, an intrusive thought pierced through my mind: What if Tom comes back on Tuesday?
What if he was intentionally waiting for me?
The next two days passed in a haze of manufactured normal routine.
On Sunday, Ethan and I went couch shopping, spending hours testing fabrics.
To anyone looking at us, we were the picture-perfect suburban couple.
But beneath the calm surface, I was losing my mind.
Every time my phone chimed with an email notification, my heart did a violent flip, fearing it might be a message from Eric—or worse, a direct message from Tom.
The thrill of the encounter had morphed into a lingering anxiety, but worst of all was the shame of admitting to myself that I wanted Tuesday to come.
By Tuesday afternoon, I was at my Brooklyn office, attempting to focus on client files.
Susan, my senior designer, walked into my glass-walled office holding a stack of tile samples.
“Rain, here are the marble options for the Manhattan penthouse project,” Susan said.
She noticed me staring blankly at my laptop screen.
“Hey…
are you alright?
You’ve been staring at that blank CAD document for twenty minutes.” “I’m fine, Susan,” I said quickly, rubbing my temples.
“Just a bit distracted with the Lawrence project.” “Eric’s place, right?” Susan smiled gently.
“You’ve been working non-stop lately.
Cathy and I can take over the site visits if you need a breather.” “No!” The word came out sharper than I intended.
I quickly softened my tone.
“No, it’s fine.
Eric specifically asked for my personal oversight.
I’ll handle it.” Susan gave me a curious look but nodded.
“Alright.
Just don’t work too late tonight.” After Susan left, I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes.
In just three hours, I would be standing in Eric’s foyer again.
I opened my desk drawer and pulled out my professional SLR camera, checking the battery level.
I glanced at my wardrobe hanging behind the door.
I had brought a sleek, fitted dark green knee-length dress to change into after office hours—a dress that highlighted my silhouette far more than my usual modest work suits.
I told myself I was wearing it because it looked professional for a high-end client meeting.
But deep down, I knew the truth.
I was dressing for the man who had backed me against the oak desk.
At 6:30 PM, I locked up the office, stepped into my sedan, and set my GPS destination for Lawrence.
As the Brooklyn skyline receded in my rearview mirror, my hands tightened on the steering wheel.
The sun was setting, casting long, golden shadows across the highway.
There was no turning back now.