A lot

The reply didn’t come right away.

For a moment, Emily thought she might’ve finally stunned him into silence.

Then—
buzz
buzz
buzz

Three in a row.

She picked up the phone.

Will:
…holy fucking shit.

Will:
I’m hard now. Very. Incredibly. Like can’t-stand-up-in-the-office hard.

Will:
That might be the most dangerously perfect photo anyone has ever sent me. Ever.

Then one more came, as if he needed to confess something before he exploded:

Will:
I had to walk into the supply room just now and pretend to look for labels because I couldn’t sit still. You’ve officially ruined me for the rest of the day.

Emily’s lips curved.

Slow. Satisfied.

She held the phone between two fingers and leaned back in her chair, letting the breeze from the air vent brush across her exposed skin.

There were two kinds of power in moments like this.

The kind where you begged for attention…

And the kind where you made a man excuse himself from a workplace just to stay standing.

This?

This was the latter.