Dallas Iron: a BWWM Age Difference Alpha Possessive Romance

I’m twenty-four years old, and I’ve never spent a single second in a boardroom or a single minute with a woman like Naomi Vance. Back in East Texas, things are simple. The bosses are men you can read, and the women are people you understand. Naomi is a different kind of math. She’s mahogany skin, silk trousers, and a voice that sounds like a velvet whip. She’s the CEO of a sixty-story death trap, and I’m the only one who knows the iron is breathing wrong.

My buddies warned me about the "Glass Queen." They called her a diversity hire. They said she’d look for any reason to break a man like me. But when she stepped onto my forty-second floor in the suffocating July heat, I didn't see an agenda. I saw a woman with a spine of tempered steel who was trying to hold the whole sky up by herself. I didn't know the first thing about her world, but I knew the heat between us was about to hit its limit.

We’re a match dropped in a gasoline bucket, and then the storm hits.

Locked in a dead service elevator forty floors up, the power fails and the world goes black. In the dark, there’s no corporate ladder or country conditioning. There’s just the slow, sickening sway of the steel and the way she finally melts when I put my calloused hands on those dark, dangerous curves. She thinks she’s the one building this monument, but trapped in this heat, I’m the only foundation she’s got left.

I don't care how high she’s climbed. Up here in the wind, she’s finally within my reach and things are getting wet and stormy.