Crossing the Line: Without a Trace series, a contemporary erotic romance novel by Ally Bishop

deep. He spreads his legs, forcing me even wider as his other hand manages to extract my breast from the corset. With firm pressure on my nipple, he massages his thumb against my clit. I arch my back, moaning into his mouth.
    He answers by adding another finger inside me and increasing his tempo. I don’t recognize the guttural cries rising in my throat, muted only by our kiss. When I finally reach my crescendo, I struggle to stay quiet, the pressure proving nearly too much. I shudder with my release, falling back against him with heavy limbs.
    “Very nice, Ms. Storm,” he says softly, his fingers still caressing my breast. “The next time we plan a lunch, I’ll have to dress accordingly.”
    I chuckle despite my exhaustion. “How? Skip wearing pants?”
    I can feel his grin against my ear. “Mm. And make sure I have the entire afternoon free to devote to your pleasures.”
    My cheeks burn at the thought, and a little voice in my head wonders when I became a woman for whom a powerful attorney clears his calendar. It feels surreal.
    When we manage to stand, he checks the hallway before snagging my bags. We sit on the couch and devour the food, him in just his shirt and underwear and me in my corset and stockings.
    “I could definitely get used to this. Shall we do it again next Thursday?” He winks.
    “I can probably arrange that. Though I might go with wearing jeans and sneakers and keep this getup for the evenings. The subway was cold .”
    He laughs. “I bet it was. You look beautiful, of course. But you look pretty hot in jeans, too.”
    I shove a bit of tuna sushi in my mouth to cover my embarrassment.
    He reaches out and grabs my hand. “I notice that you get embarrassed when you’re complimented. Is that just because you’re a little shy, or is there another reason?”
    His insight surprises me. “Why do you think there’s another reason besides being shy?”
    He gives my question some thought while chewing. “When my aunt commended you, I noticed how you seemed to want to disappear. It was more than your blush,” he teases gently. “You physically seemed to shrink.”
    I get up from our smorgasbord under the guise of snagging another water out of the small refrigerator in the corner of his office. In truth, I need to compose my reaction. Most people just assume I’m shy, and Ian is one of the few who’ve caught on that there’s more to it. I bite the inside of my lip, debating if it’s too soon to air dirty laundry. Aren’t we still in the honeymoon phase where everything is supposed to be perfect and set in a bit too-rosy a light?
    When I return, I pull out my coat and sit on the floor, needing some space to speak. But I’m close enough to rest a hand on his knee when he looks down at me in confusion. “I was in a relationship for a really long time. Like, five years long. We were supposed to get married, have a family, do all those things people do.”
    I squeeze the words out between stiff lips, not wanting to even speak the truth that embarrasses me beyond anything else. “He’s why I came to New York—we met online while I was back home. His name is Jonathan. He was a year younger than me—the same age as Noah. Originally, I was going to go to a community college back home, but when Noah wanted to go to NYU, it seemed like fate. Jonathan had already been accepted to Columbia, and he was perfect. So stupid me, I fell for him and decided to wait and go to college with Noah.” I shake my head, still astounded by my foolishness. “I rationalized that a year of working full-time before going to college would give me real world experience. And it did. But I had no idea…”
    He’s stopped eating, his eyes never leaving my face. While I appreciate his focus, it’s making me feel even more foolish, and I turn a chopstick between my fingers.
    “Anyway, we were together through college, and everyone just assumed we’d be happily ever after. Even Noah, in the beginning. Though he saw the