And slowly, deliberately, they drop to my mouth.
My breath catches.
He pushes off his desk, slow, measured, dangerous in a way that makes something low in my stomach tighten as he starts toward me.
I take a step back.
Big mistake.
My shoulders hit the door with a dull thud.
Nowhere left to go.
His gaze never leaves mine as he closes the distance, not once, not even when he’s close enough that I can see the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw, close enough that I can see the darker ring around the green of his eyes, close enough that my breath stutters and forgets how to come out properly.
His chest brushes mine, warm and solid and far too close, and my body freezes, caught somewhere between the urge to shove him away and the pull drawing me toward him instead.
His hand lifts slowly, giving me time to stop him.
I don’t.
His fingers slide beneath my chin and tilt my face upward, and my knees weaken instantly in a way that’s both infuriating and completely out of my control.
It’s ridiculous.
Completely unacceptable.
And completely unavoidable.
Up this close, he smells like sage and cedarwood and cigarette smoke, dark and warm and unmistakably him, the scent wrapping around me before I can stop it, sinking in deeper than it should, settling somewhere I don’t want it to.
His thumb brushes my lower lip once, slow and deliberate.
I gasp before I can stop it.
His eyes soften just slightly at the sound, knowing, like he expected it, like he felt it too.
His thumb lingers a second longer than it should.
Then he leans in.
Closer.
Until his mouth is right beside my ear.
His voice drops low, rough, quiet enough that I feel it more than hear it.
“No… you don’t.”
Goosebumps explode across my arms.
Heat rushes through me so fast it makes my head spin.
I should push him away.
I should say something.
I should do anything except stand here like my entire body just betrayed me.
