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.

cheeks tinged

they had been close before,

She was still embarrassed.

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besides,” Lyndon continued, a hint of amusement in his voice, “as a screenwriter who’s penned numerous scenes and witnessed countless

”

Tilda got caught off-guard.

read countless novels and scripts, but that didn’t mean

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

brushed against her skin, sending a shiver down

gaze lingered on her chest, deepening

abruptly, shielding her front

stare? It’s different being the subject rather than the observer,” she admonished, her voice

undergarments, her delicate frame was illuminated by the soft lighting, highlighting the smoothness of her skin- an image

want