He was standing by the window, and Avery Jane remembered Julian Carter's advice: he liked having a cup of black coffee in the morning. But as he stood there, now she wasn't thinking about making him a cup of coffee; instead, she wanted to hold him. She liked his body warmth, a warmth that made one unwilling to leave his embrace. She quietly walked up, stretched out her slender arms, wrapped them around his waist, and pressed her face against his back. "I'm sorry, boss, I'm late..." Her voice was soft and sweet, with a hint of coquettishness and a tinge of apology that almost melted his heart into a puddle.
"So how should I punish you?" In the morning, his voice differed from the deep tone of the night; it was rich and charming, like fine wine.
