Tara barely slept. All night she kept feeling Raymond’s mouth on her, his thick fingers stretching her, the way he growled her name. By morning her panties were already damp again just thinking about him. She dressed carefully—a fitted cream blouse and a pencil skirt that hugged her hips—then drove through Lagos traffic to the office, heart pounding.
The moment she stepped inside, she felt his presence. Raymond was in the main conference room, leading a meeting. Their eyes met through the glass wall. His gaze burned. She quickly looked away and hurried to her desk.
Work was impossible. Every time her phone buzzed or footsteps approached, her body tightened with need. At 11:30 AM, her desk phone rang.
“Mr. Okoye’s office. Now.”
His secretary’s voice left no room for argument. Tara’s sto
