My Bossy CEO Husband by Symon Diller

Tilda cast a sidelong glance at Lyndon, who hovered at the periphery.

“You should go now.

I can manage on my own,” she said firmly.

Lyndon, with a subtle smile, advanced and began to undo the buttons of her loungewear.

Tilda, taken aback, swiftly intervened, her hand darting out to halt his movements.

“No, I’ve got this,” she protested, wincing as she inadvertently agitated her wound.

Lyndon’s expression softened, concern coloring his tone.

“Why must you always be so headstrong? We’ve been this close before.

There’s no need for modesty now,” he chided gently.

faltered, her cheeks tinged

they had been close before, but familiarity hadn’t

She was still embarrassed.

AngelasLibrary

a screenwriter who’s

”

Tilda got caught off-guard.

scripts, but that

Lyndon’s hands resumed their work, peeling away the fabric

brushed against her skin, sending

lingered on her

turned away abruptly, shielding

It’s different being the subject rather than the observer,” she admonished, her voice a mix of irritation and

clad only in her undergarments, her delicate frame was illuminated by the soft lighting, highlighting the smoothness

made one want to