Nolan stood against the cool marble sink, observing Miranda as she meticulously fixed her hair in the mirror. Her nimble fingers worked swiftly, twisting wayward strands back into the sleek style she'd worn before their passionate encounter. A satisfied smirk played across his lips as he admired the after-effects of their recent intimacy—how thoroughly he had undone her professional appearance, recalling with vivid clarity the way she had clung to him, how she had breathlessly moaned "sir" in that way that still echoed in his mind.
"You're staring," Miranda murmured, securing the final hairpin and smoothing down a rebellious curl.
"Am I?" Nolan replied with a raised eyebrow. "I thought I was simply appreciating my secretary's commitment to maintaining her professional appearance."
