My Boss Doesn't Date Men

I always played it straight. Dutiful assistant. Untouchable facade.
The perfect shield against the ache I'd buried deep.

Until him.
My boss.
Older.
Unshakably straight, or so he growls in those late-night meetings, voice like gravel over glass.
Manhattan's skyline burns behind floor-to-ceiling windows, mocking my crumbling resolve as his fingers graze mine over contracts.
Sweat-dampens the pages strewn across his polished desk.
Fluorescent hum witnesses my first shudder.

I tell myself it's nothing.
Just exhaustion.
The age between us.
A trick of the city lights blurring through rain-streaked glass.
But then the file room door clicks shut.
Shadows swallow us.
His breath hot against my neck, a possessive rumble: "I don't do this."
Yet his hands pin me, urgent.
Claiming.
Awakening the man I've starved for years.

He's everything I shouldn't want.
The boss whose legacy one whisper could torch.
My career?
Collateral.
Professional identity?
Shattered.
We steal touches in sterile boardrooms, power inverting into raw need.
He yields nothing publicly.
Privately?
He devours.
I surrender my straight-laced shell, piece by trembling piece.

One desperate collapse changes it all.
Tender stillness in that corner office, city pulsing below like our hidden heartbeats.
What if his denial breaks us both?
Or worse-what if mine was the lie all along?

A full-length age gap possessive MM bi awakening erotic romance featuring a straight-laced executive assistant and an obsessively dominant older boss.