“Mr. Blackwood,” she purred with a smirk, rising slowly as he entered. “I hope you’re ready to be… handled.”
He didn’t flinch. He stepped forward, dropped onto the nearest couch with deliberate calm, and met her gaze with icy precision.
“Strip,” he said. “Now.”
She raised a brow, amused. “Straight to it, huh?”
“I didn’t come here to talk,” he said flatly, already rolling up his sleeves. “And I have no interest in your voice.”
Her smile widened. “Knew you’d be rough.”
She dropped the robe without hesitation, striking a pose like a centerfold—legs slightly parted, chest pushed forward, her expression dripping with confidence.
He didn’t flinch.
Didn’t even look her in the eye.
He wasn’t here for that.
No kissing. Never.
Kissing was personal.
This was anything but.
With precise de
