103
It was the last meeting of the day.
The kind where everyone was tired but pushing through, wrapping up the final details before they could all go home. The conference room was bathed in warm, late-afternoon sunlight, the city skyline glowing faintly beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Sketches, fabric swatches, and crisp folders lay scattered across the polished mahogany table. The faint aroma of the coffee pot in the corner mingled with the smell of new paper and ambition.
Ericka sat at the head of the table, looking every bit the commanding CEO in her tailored charcoal blazer. Her presence was sharp but calm, the kind that kept everyone's attention without her having to say much.
Amanda sat to her immediate right—her usual position—but close enough that their elbows brushed when they moved, close enough for the faint brush of Ericka's perfume to linger between them.
Ava, at the far end, presented the marketing strategy for the Fall/Winter campaign with bold energy, gesturing toward the whiteboard filled with sleek, modern concepts. The junior designers took rapid notes, their pens scratching against paper in sync.
When Amanda slid the latest ad mock-up toward Ericka, their fingers touched—just barely, but long enough to send a spark between them.
Ericka didn't look up, but her pen froze mid-note.
Amanda leaned in slightly, her voice low enough to be buried under Ava's presentation.
"I'm going to have you against the wall the second we get home."
Ericka's pen tapped once against the folder.
Amanda's tone didn't soften. "Or maybe I won't wait until we get home. Maybe it'll be in the car again."
Ericka's breathing shifted—just enough for Amanda to notice. She kept her gaze fixed on the paper, pretending to review the design. "You're going to make me lose focus."
"That's the idea," Amanda murmured, her hand brushing against Ericka's under the table—light, fleeting, and hidden from the rest of the room.
Ericka's lips twitched like she was holding back a smile. "You're dangerous."
"Only for you," Amanda whispered, smirking.
Across the table, Ava glanced up and caught the brief exchange—a beat too long, a glance too loaded. Her brow arched in silent curiosity before she turned back to her notes.
Ericka shut the folder with a precise flick. "Let's move to the next item."
The end-of-day rush hit the building like a wave. The elevator lobby was packed with people from different floors, everyone eager to head home. When the doors slid open, Amanda and Ericka stepped inside with the crowd, immediately swallowed by the press of bodies.
Amanda ended up behind Ericka, the CEO's back pressed flush against her front—not because she wanted to, but because there was no room to move.
The elevator lurched slightly as it started its descent, and Ericka's body shifted backward, pressing even more against Amanda. The movement was subtle but enough to make Amanda's hands move on instinct, her palms finding Ericka's hips to steady her.
Ericka didn't pull away. In fact, she stayed right where she was, her perfume warm and rich in the cramped air. Amanda's thumbs brushed slowly, almost lazily, over the fabric of Ericka's skirt—small, rhythmic movements that no one else could see.
"You okay?" Amanda murmured, her voice low enough to be lost in the hum of small talk around them.
Ericka didn't turn, but her head tilted just enough for Amanda to lean in. Her lips hovered at Ericka's ear as she whispered, slow and deliberate, "When we get home, I'm not letting you leave our bedroom until you forget your own name."
Ericka bit her lip hard, her breath catching for a fraction of a second. Then, without even thinking, she pressed back against Amanda—closer, harder—like she was daring her to follow through.
Amanda smirked. "Guess that means you're looking forward to it."
"Mm," Ericka hummed, not trusting herself to say more. Her eyes stayed forward, but her hand shifted just enough at her side for her fingertips to brush Amanda's wrist, a silent acknowledgment of the tension between them.
As the elevator slowed for another stop, Amanda let her hand drift just slightly around Ericka's waist, fingertips brushing the side of her ribcage under the pretense of shifting her stance. Ericka's sharp inhale was quick—almost imperceptible—but Amanda caught it.
When the elevator finally opened onto the ground floor, they stepped out into the lobby with the rest of the crowd, walking side by side like nothing had happened. But the air between them was still humming.
Outside, Ericka's sleek black car was already waiting at the curb, her driver standing by. He opened the rear door, and they slipped into the backseat—Ericka first, Amanda right after, close enough that their thighs brushed.
The driver shut the door and climbed into the front. As the engine purred to life, the partition stayed down, offering no privacy except for the hum of city traffic outside.
Amanda glanced sideways, catching the way Ericka's lips curved in a faint, knowing smirk.
Amanda rested her hand casually on her own thigh. Ericka didn't push it away. Instead, she rested her hand over Amanda's, guiding it just slightly higher, her gaze fixed forward but her voice low.
"When we get home..." she began, a slow exhale threading through the words, "you're going to make up for every single second I had to keep my hands to myself today."
Amanda's grip tightened. "I was planning on it."
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The city blurred by outside the tinted windows, but Amanda's attention was fixed entirely on Ericka. The ride felt longer than usual, tension curling in the small space like smoke.
When the car finally pulled up to the penthouse entrance, the driver stepped out to open Ericka's door first. Amanda followed, her hand brushing along the small of Ericka's back as they walked inside, just enough to make Ericka glance sideways with that barely-there smirk she wore when she was holding herself together.
The elevator ride up to their floor was empty this time, the hum of the cables the only sound. Amanda didn't waste the opportunity. She stepped in behind Ericka, letting her hands settle on her waist, thumbs brushing slowly over her hips.
"You've been pressing into me all evening," Amanda murmured against her ear. "Think it's time I return the favor."
Ericka's breath hitched, her fingers curling around Amanda's wrists—but she didn't move away. "Don't make promises you can't keep."
"Oh, I keep all my promises," Amanda said, her tone warm and full of intent.
The doors slid open, and they walked down the hallway toward their door. As soon as the lock clicked behind them, Amanda had Ericka backed gently against it, her hands braced on either side of her head.
Ericka laughed softly, her voice low and teasing. "You couldn't wait two minutes to get me to the bedroom?"
"Two minutes is two minutes too long," Amanda replied, leaning in to kiss her.
It wasn't a quick kiss. It was deep, unhurried—every slow brush of Amanda's lips over Ericka's a reminder of every stolen touch they'd had in public all day. Amanda's hands slid down to Ericka's waist, fingers digging in just enough to make her shift under the contact.
When they finally broke for air, Amanda smiled, brushing her thumb along Ericka's jawline. "Now... where were we?"
Ericka reached up, pulling Amanda closer by her shirt collar. "You were about to make me forget my name."