I laugh again, surprised by how easy it feels. “Well, you’re doing better than you think.”
He looks down at me, his eyes dark and searching, just a little softer than usual. “Is it working?” he asks, his voice almost a whisper.
I nod, breathless, caught between fear and something far sweeter.
“Good,” he says. “Because you’re not allowed to faint. I don’t know CPR.”
That makes me giggle again, nerves and relief swirling together. The moment stretches, both of us standing still as the silence hums between us.
I look up, and he’s right there. I can see the gold flecks in his eyes, the way his mouth quirks at the corner. The space between us disappears. My hand slips up to his chest, heart hammering, and he lowers his head, breath brushing my cheek.
Before I know what’s happening, our lips meet. It’s gentle at first, his mouth warm and searching, the kiss sweet and impossible and everything I didn’t know I needed. For a heartbeat, the world shrinks to this: his hands in my hair, the taste of him, the soft, desperate sound I make against his lips.
His hands grip my waist, strong and possessive, and suddenly he’s lifting me, pinning me between his body and the cool wall of the elevator.
I gasp against his mouth, fingers curling in his shirt, knees weak as he deepens the kiss. He kisses me like he’s starving, like I’m the only thing he’s wanted for a very long time. His tongue slides against mine, coaxing my lips open wider. I can taste the heat of his need, the sharp edge of his hunger.
My legs instinctively wrap around his waist, skirt riding up my thighs as he holds me there, pressed tight to him. His hand slides up my side, thumb brushing under the edge of my blouse, warm and rough on bare skin. His other hand cups the back of my head, angling me so he can devour my mouth, bruising and perfect.
His hips press into me, making me dizzy with want, my body arching into his as I moan softly into his mouth. He groans in return, the sound low and primal, sending sparks straight to my core.
For a moment, nothing else exists, just his hands, his mouth, the wild rush of heat between my legs.
He breaks the kiss only to trail his lips along my jaw, down my neck, biting gently at the sensitive spot just below my ear. My head falls back, giving him more, breath ragged as he murmurs my name like it’s the only word he’s ever wanted to say.
The elevator is still, but inside me, everything is moving, spinning, burning. All I want is more.
“Zatanna,” he growls, voice thick and broken, “you have no idea what you do to me.”
I shudder, nails scraping at his shoulders, wanting more, needing more.
If the elevator never moves again, I think I could die happy—right here, in his arms, consumed by him.
But then the elevator floods with light and shudders to life. For one wild second, I’m suspended in Aleksei’s arms—his hands on my hips, his mouth still hungry on mine—before reality slams back, bright and merciless.
I jerk away, heart thundering, face burning with shock. I catch my own reflection in the mirrored wall behind him: hair mussed, lips swollen, cheeks flushed a guilty red. My blouse is wrinkled, his jacket is half off his shoulder, and I look exactly like a woman who’s just let herself be devoured by her boss.
“Oh my god,” I stammer, horror chasing the last of the adrenaline from my veins. The elevator doors slide open with a cheerful ding. Without looking back, I slip free from his grasp, practically stumbling over my own feet as I rush out, desperate for air, for distance, for a place to hide.
Behind me, Aleksei calls my name, but I don’t dare stop. I can still taste him on my lips, feel the heat of his hands on my body.
I don’t look back—not until I’m safe in the hallway, and even then, I don’t trust my legs not to give out beneath me.
15
ALEKSEI
Fuck.
The elevator doors part and she’s gone in a blur—bolting down the hall, hair wild, the flush still high on her cheeks. I call after her, but she doesn’t stop, doesn’t even look back.
My heart’s hammering so hard I can feel it in my teeth. I run a hand through my hair, still tasting her on my lips, still feeling the imprint of her legs around my waist, and the desperate heat of her mouth.
A uniformed technician rushes up, tools jangling, eyes wide with apology. “I’m so sorry, sir. There was a—uh—power glitch in the system. Won’t happen again, I swear?—”
Any other time I’d have fired him on the spot, torn into him for the screwup, but I barely hear him. My thoughts are a mess, adrenaline burning through me, and all I can think about is the way Zatanna looked at me right before she ran.
I brush past the technician, ignoring his stammered apologies. I need air, space, distance—anything to get control again.
