Some women didn't just walk into a room — they owned it. Riley was that woman. Forty-five, stunning, and utterly unapologetic about the way her body moved, bounced, and demanded attention. Her curves didn't ask permission — they made men forget rules. Especially Marcus. Twenty-eight, intense, and confident, Marcus wasn't new to temptation… but Riley was something else.
There were no gentle edges between them — just thick tension, dark looks, and the kind of accidental touches that left marks on memory. She wasn't just older — she was experienced, daring, dangerous.
And Marcus? He wasn't backing down.
Not when she wore those dresses.
Not when she leaned forward the way she did.
Not when her breasts spilled out of those tight blouses like they had something to prove.
He didn't want to be careful.
He wanted to be inside her orbit.
But Riley had one rule: If you can't handle the view, you don't get the ride.