Allyson's POV
When I emerged from the bathroom, Michael stood against his mahogany desk, black shirt stretched across his broad shoulders with several buttons carelessly undone. He was absorbed in his phone until he sensed my presence.
The instant his eyes found me, everything shifted.
His expression transformed completely. Raw desire flickered across his features, followed by something darker, more primal. I had anticipated this reaction. The dress was designed to make him lose his composure.
His gaze swept over me with deliberate slowness, each look burning through the delicate fabric. His jaw tightened visibly. The phone tumbled from his grip, clattering against the wooden surface.
"Christ, Allyson." His voice emerged rough and strained. He moved toward me with predatory grace, eyes never leaving my exposed skin.
The heat in his stare alone made my pulse quicken.
