UNPROTECTED

The office was empty when I arrived, the city’s evening glow reflecting off the glass walls. Reid Capital’s usual hum of activity was gone, leaving silence and the faint click of my heels as the only sound.

It felt different tonight.

Not abandoned.

Not still.

But waiting.

As if the space itself remembered everything that had happened within it—the meetings, the strategy, the tension—and now held it quietly, suspended in the dim light.

I had come in early to review the final projections for the cross-border acquisition—Shawn had insisted on personally walking me through every contingency.

Not delegated.

Not summarized.

Personally.

That alone carried weight.

When I entered his office, he was already there, sleeves rolled up, desk meticulously organized. His presence filled the room, not looming, not demanding, but powerful, precise, and focused.

Always controlled.

Always composed.

But never distant.

“You’re early,” he said, glancing up from the reports. His gaze caught mine, lingering just a second too long. That small pause, that weight of attention, sent a shiver down my spine.

It was subtle.

But intentional.

“I wanted to be prepared,” I said, keeping my voice steady despite the heat rising in my chest.

Despite the awareness that being alone with him like this—

Was no longer neutral.

He didn’t respond verbally. Instead, he gestured toward the chair beside his desk, a subtle invitation, professional in appearance but charged with something unspoken.

A boundary.

And an invitation to cross it.

I sat, and we began working.

At first—

It was routine.

Structured.

Familiar.

Hours passed. Line by line, clause by clause, we dissected the strategy, tracing every risk, anticipating every counter-move.

Every detail examined.

Every weakness reinforced.

Shawn’s calm, precise direction kept me grounded—but there was something else now, something dangerous in the quiet moments when our hands brushed over the files or when our shoulders grazed while reaching for documents.

Those moments stretched.

Lengthened.

Held.

Neither of us acknowledging them—

But neither ignoring them either.

The room grew warmer.

Or maybe it was just us.

By late evening, the air between us was taut.

Not fragile.

Not uncertain.

But stretched to its limit.

Each glance, each deliberate proximity carried months of restrained desire.

My pulse quickened as he leaned over the desk, reviewing a report, and our arms touched—close, deliberate, unavoidably intimate.

Too close to ignore.

Too deliberate to dismiss.

“Catriona,” he murmured, voice low, carrying a warmth that belonged only to these private hours, “you’ve handled everything flawlessly tonight.”

“Thanks,” I whispered, but the sound of my own voice betrayed me.

It wasn’t steady.

Not entirely.

I was aware of him—the heat, the nearness, the way his presence had always drawn and corrupted something from me I couldn’t explain.

Something instinctive.

Something uncontrollable.

Something that no amount of discipline had ever fully suppressed.

He closed the distance, brushing a strand of hair from my face, his fingers lingering along my jawline.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Unavoidable.

My breath hitched.

We were no longer just professional partners.

Not tonight.

Not in this moment.

Tonight we’re…

And he grabbed me…

The shift was immediate.

Decisive.

Irreversible.

“Do you feel this too?” he asked, voice rougher than usual, barely above a whisper.

I nodded, barely able to speak. “Yes. This isn’t the first time” Were doing it every f*cking day!”

The truth landed between us—

Raw.

Unfiltered.

And instead of breaking the moment—

It deepened it.

He just smiled.

That quiet, knowing smile.

That was all it took.

He leaned in, capturing my lips in a kiss that was slow, deliberate, and consuming.

Not rushed.

Not hesitant.

Certain.

Months of sexual desired activity—— of the careful glances, the fleeting touches, the unspoken acknowledgment—erupted in that single, electric moment when were alone in the executive suite.

Everything we had contained—

Released.

There goes his manipulative hands maneuvering, tracing the curve of my waist, grounding me, holding me steady, even as desire surged.

Brushing his warm hardness on my hips to feel it.

The contrast between control and hunger blurred.

Merged.

I responded instinctively, pressing closer, feeling the weight of every late-night strategy f*cking session, every challenge, every obstacle we had faced together.

Everything built—

Now expressed.

Nothing in the office mattered.

Not Charles.

Not the acquisition deadlines.

Not the world outside these walls.

Only us.

Only this.

The kiss deepened.

It was more urgent now, filled with the longing of our bodies restrained, the hunger of bodies quiet hours spent side by side.

Every breath, every touch, every whispered name carried the acknowledgment of something private, dangerous, and utterly ours.

There was no pretending anymore.

No separation.

No division between strategy and desire.

Then I found myself being carried deep into this magnificent moment, holding his hard shiny big front directing its entrance to mine as I just glided my one leg up on his shoulder for easy access on my slick.

Everything moved faster—

But felt sharper.

More intense.

More consuming.

He pumped thrice—- and moaned on my breast!

The moment was faster than any night of release we had.

No build.

No delay.

Only impact.

He pressed my body for support until I felt him c*mming.

It was so intense and he pulled it fast again.

A surge.

A release.

A moment that burned through everything we had held back.

Then—

Stillness.

Not empty.

But full.

Overwhelmingly full.

When we finally broke apart, foreheads pressed together, breaths mingling, the office around us faded.

His hand lingered on my waist, thumb brushing lightly.

A grounding touch.

A quiet claim.

“We’re… exposed,” he whispered, a faint smile teasing the corner of his mouth. “To each other, at least.”

There was no panic in it.

No regret.

Only truth.

“Yes,” I breathed. “And I don’t want to hide anymore.”

And I meant it.

Completely.

Because whatever this was—

It was no longer containable in silence alone.

He held me for a moment longer, the electricity of the office, the city below, and our shared vulnerability binding us.

Then he stepped back slightly, eyes dark with desire and control.

Never losing himself entirely.

Never losing that edge of discipline.

“Tomorrow,” he said, voice low, deliberate, “we return to the world. But tonight… we are unprotected. Together.”

The word lingered in the quiet room.

Unprotected.

Vulnerable.

Intimate.

And yet, it wasn’t weakness.

It wasn’t risk without control.

It was trust.

Alignment.

Connection.

Something chosen—

Not fallen into.

I left the office that night with my pulse still racing, heart thundering, and a quiet certainty:

The slow-burn hidden romance we had carefully guarded for months had finally claimed its space.

Not in secrecy alone—

But in truth.

And for the first time, it was undeniable.

We were aligned—

In business,

In strategy,

And in desire.

And nothing could undo that.