She tilted her head, watching him. He was effortlessly charming, the kind of man who made people feel at ease without even trying. Too bad he's married, she thought, a smirk playing on her lips. Then again, so am I. Nothing is ever going to come off this.
Sarah's gaze lingered on Michael as he approached, her sharp eyes tracing the familiar lines of his face, the way his tie hung loose, the easy confidence in his stride. But as she watched him, something shifted. Her awareness turned inward, her body suddenly alive with sensation. She could feel the soft brush of her blouse against her skin, the gentle pull of her skirt as she crossed her legs. She became hyper-aware of every curve, every inch of herself, as if her body had woken up just to remind her of its presence.
She thought of the way she'd looked in the mirror that morning, the way the light had caught her reflectionher hair falling in soft waves, her lips painted a deep crimson. She'd felt powerful then, untouchable. Now, under his gaze, that same feeling surged, but with a different edge. Her skin felt electric, her pulse quickening as she imagined his hands on her, sliding over her body the way hers had in the shower that morning. She'd touched herself then, her fingers tracing the curves of her hips, her breasts, imagining what it might feel like to hand that control over to someone else.
To him.
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