Dangerous Office Romance With My Husband

Breanne kicked off her black stilettos in the dimly lit foyer of the penthouse. The shoes hit the baseboard with a dull thud.

She dragged her stocking-clad feet across the cold hardwood floor. The absolute silence of the empty apartment pressed against her eardrums. It was a heavy, expensive kind of quiet.

Her fingers fumbled with the small pearl buttons of her silk blouse. She pulled the fabric apart and let it drop onto the back of the velvet living room sofa. She didn't care about the wrinkles.

Walking into the master bathroom, she reached into the glass enclosure and turned the shower handle all the way to hot. Steam immediately began to rise, fogging the mirrors.

She stepped under the spray. The scalding water hit her tight shoulders, turning her pale skin a mottled pink.

She leaned her forehead against the wet tile. She closed her eyes, trying to wash away the endless spreadsheets and the suffocating pressure of the Golden Peak project.

When she finally stepped out, she wrapped a thick, fluffy white towel around her body. The chilled air of the master bedroom hit her wet skin, making the fine hairs on her arms stand up.

She walked over to her side of the massive king-sized bed and pulled open the top drawer of the nightstand.

Her fingers brushed past a stack of unread architectural magazines. She reached toward the very back of the drawer.

She pulled out a small, sleek, rose-gold vibrator.

Her cheeks flushed a sudden, hot red. The room was completely empty, but the weight of what she was about to do made her stomach tighten.

With the toy in hand, she climbed into the exact center of the mattress. She pulled the heavy, high-thread-count duvet up over her bare legs, creating a small, private cocoon.

Her thumb found the power button. She pressed it.

A low, quiet hum filled the silent space. The vibration sent a sharp jolt of anticipation straight to her core. Her breathing hitched.

She closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the stacked pillows. A soft, involuntary sigh escaped her parted lips.

Then, the electronic lock on the front door chimed.

The sound was sharp and loud, echoing down the long hallway.

Breanne's eyes snapped open. Ice water flooded her veins. Her heart slammed against her ribs so hard it physically hurt.

The device slipped from her trembling fingers. It fell somewhere between her thighs.

She scrambled to grab it, her hands blindly searching the sheets. The heavy duvet tangled around her ankles, trapping her legs.

Heavy, deliberate footsteps echoed on the hardwood floor. They were moving fast. They were heading directly toward the master suite.

Her fingers finally closed around the smooth metal. She fumbled frantically for the power button.

Her hands were still slick from the shower lotion. Her thumb slipped.

Instead of turning it off, she accidentally pressed the intensity button. The vibration instantly cranked up to the maximum setting.

The low hum turned into an angry, undeniable buzzing sound.

The bedroom door swung open.

Gabriel Baldwin, her husband, stood in the doorway.

He was wearing a perfectly tailored charcoal suit. His dark eyes immediately swept over the messy bed, the tangled white sheets, and Breanne's violently flushed face.

The loud buzzing sound echoed in the sudden, deathly silence of the room. It was deafening.

Gabriel did not blink. He slowly reached behind him and pushed the door closed.

The click of the latch sounded exactly like a gunshot.

He dropped his leather overnight bag onto the floor. It hit the carpet with a heavy thud. He never broke eye contact with her.

Breanne's wet fingers finally found the right button. The buzzing died instantly.

She shoved the toy under the nearest pillow, a mortified gasp tearing out of her throat. Her chest heaved up and down.

Gabriel reached up and loosened his silk tie. He pulled it slowly through his collar. A dangerous, mocking smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth.

He took a slow step toward the bed.

He moved with a predatory grace that made Breanne's stomach drop. She instinctively shrank back against the headboard, pulling the duvet up to her chin.

She opened her mouth to yell at him. She wanted to demand why he was back from Chicago two days early.

No sound came out. Her throat was completely dry.

He stopped at the edge of the mattress. He looked down at her trembling form. His expression was a mask of cold, dark amusement.

He reached out. His large hand effortlessly bypassed her defensive grip on the blankets.

He slid his hand under the pillow and pulled the rose-gold toy out into the open.

He held it in his broad palm, examining the sleek design. He raised a single, thick eyebrow at her.

He tossed the toy onto the nightstand. The metal clattered loudly against the wood. Breanne flinched.

Gabriel leaned down. He planted both of his hands firmly on the mattress, right on either side of her hips.

The mattress dipped under his weight. He trapped her completely.