Ariana’s fingers hovered so close to the thick bulge in Simeon’s trousers that she could feel the heat radiating from it.
Her fever made everything sharper, his masculine scent, the rapid beat of her own heart, the slick ache growing between her thighs.
Simeon’s hand shot out and caught her wrist, grip firm but not painful.
“Ariana, I said no.” His voice was low and strained, eyes dark with a storm of conflict. “This crosses every line. Your mother could walk back in any second. I’m not risking my marriage or our family for… for whatever fever dream this is.”
She didn’t pull away. Instead, she stepped closer until her breasts brushed his chest through her thin sundress.
“Then lock the door,” she whispered, lips brushing his ear.
“You’re already so hard for me. I can feel your c**
