“Ruby,” Jaxon says, stepping back to let me enter.
I step inside like a woman entering a lion enclosure. The doors slide shut with a soft click that feels way too ominous.
We’re alone.
Oh God.
Oh God no.
Oh God YES?
No. No. Focus.
He stands beside me, close enough that the heat of him brushes my arm. His cologne curls around me, warm and clean with a hint of something dark beneath it.
I stare straight ahead like a Victorian woman trying not to faint.
He presses the button for the top floor with one long, slow movement of his hand that absolutely does not need to be that sensual.
The elevator starts moving.
He looks down at me. I feel it before I see it.
“Rough day?” he murmurs.
His voice is soft. Dangerous. Designed in a lab to ruin me.
“I’m fine,” I lie.
“You’re shaking again.”
“I AM NOT..."
The elevator jolts slightly as it moves to the next floor. My balance shifts and I grab the rail.
Jaxon’s hand moves instinctively, steadying my elbow.
My entire body lights up like I’ve been plugged into a socket.
We both freeze.
His hand. My skin. The warm pressure of his touch.
He doesn’t hold me. He doesn’t grip.
He just… steadies.
Then lets go.
But the ghost of it lingers.
I swallow. “I’m okay.”
“You sure?” he asks quietly.
I nod too fast. “Yes.”
“Good,” he says, leaning closer, lowering his voice. “Because next time I touch you, it won’t be accidental.”
