Monica's POV
My boss's voice cut through the office noise as he called my name. I turned, expecting another pile of work to land on my desk.
"Yes, Mr. Lorenzo?"
"Close the door and come here."
I shut the door behind me and walked toward him. He sat on that leather couch—the same one that haunted my thoughts with dangerous possibilities.
Morris looked worn down, his elbows pressed against his knees, head hanging low. The urge to comfort him, to run my fingers through his dark hair, nearly overwhelmed me. But I held back.
His touch always shattered my self-control. Even the briefest contact sent fire racing through my veins, making my body ache for more. This man's effect on me defied all logic.
He rose and pulled me close, his arms circling my waist. This embrace felt different—tender, protective, loving. Unlike our usual heated encounters, this warmth spread through my chest like honey.
His lips found my shoulder, pressing a soft kiss there before his breath tickled my ear.
