“Me.”
“That’s part of it.”
“What’s the other part?”
“The truth. About why you really disappeared, and what you’re hiding.”
Her expression closes off. “I’m not hiding anything.”
“Yes, you are. And eventually I’m going to find out what it is.”
She stands abruptly. “This was a mistake. I should go.”
I step in front of her, blocking her path to the door.
“Move,” she says.
“No.”
“Cassian—”
“You stayed because you wanted to. Because you feel the same thing I do. Stop pretending you don’t.”
“Being with you is reckless.”
“You’ve already been with me a few times. What’s one more time?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It is exactly that simple.” I reach out and cup her face, and she doesn’t pull away.
I kiss her, and she responds immediately, hands fisting in my shirt, pulling me closer. The kiss is desperate, angry, exactly like every other time we’ve touched.
“We can’t do this here,” she says against my mouth.
“Then where?”
“I don’t know. Somewhere else. Anywhere else.”
I pull back and grab her hand. “Come on.”
We leave the conference room and take the elevator down to the parking garage. My car is on the lower level, away from most of the traffic. I unlock it and open the back door.
She hesitates.
“Aurelia.”
She looks at me, and I can see her making the decision. Weighing risk against want.
Then she gets in, and I follow.
The door slams shut behind me, and the dim garage light cuts off almost completely, leaving only the faint glow from the dashboard. She’s moves, climbing across the back seat with no hesitation, knees sinking into the leather as she straddles my lap. Her dress rides up her thighs from the motion alone, and my hands find her waist instantly, yanking her down hard so she lands flush against me.
She feels it immediately, and her breath stutters. Her fingers dig into my shoulders, nails sharp even through the fabric. “You planned this,” she says, voice low and accusing, but her hips roll forward anyway, grinding once, deliberate.
“Every fucking step,” I admit against her mouth, and then I kiss her, no preamble, no gentleness. Teeth clash, tongues slide rough and hungry. She moans into it, the sound vibrating straight through my chest.
Her hands drop to my belt, tugging impatiently, metal clinking as she gets it open. I shove her dress higher, bunching the soft fabric around her waist in rough fistfuls until her thighs are bare against my trousers. She reaches between us, frees my cock, and wraps her fingers around me—hot, tight, no teasing. A low groan rips out of me.
