When our lips touched, I shook.
The kiss was predatory. His lips dry and scorching, teeth catching my lower lip, tongue pushing in—I made a sound I didn't expect from myself.
The darkness became a strange blessing. Couldn't see each other, just touch and gasping—more intense, honestly.
His fingers traced fire down my nape, skimmed my collarbone, flicked open my shirt buttons, finally slipping without hesitation under my skirt hem. We tumbled onto the floor in the darkness. His other hand, gripping my lower back, forcefully pulled me onto his lap. My knees were forced apart on either side of his body, skirt bunched up.
When he bit my earlobe, half of me went limp. At the same time, his fingers finally reached their destination, through thin fabric, finding my core.
I arched hard, back of my head hitting the elevator wall, but I felt no pain. Every sensation concentrated below—his fingers suddenly faster, hitting exactly where it killed. I clung to his shoulders, nails probably digging in, but he didn't make a sound.
I only heard myself moaning in a voice I didn't recognize.
My brain had completely stopped thinking. I surrendered myself to the darkness, to this extremely dangerous man, to desires I'd never allowed in my life.
Then the elevator moved.
Light flooded in without warning. My eyes slammed shut from the brightness. When I opened them again, the world was harsh and clear.
I saw him.
Enzo Falcone sat on the elevator floor, suit jacket wrinkled, shirt pulled out of his pants, tie crooked. Hair no longer immaculate—a few strands falling over his forehead. His lips slightly swollen. And I was sitting on him, skirt pushed to my waist, two shirt buttons undone, hair a complete mess.
The elevator started slowly rising. The mechanical hum returned. Lights steady, ventilation system back online. Everything normal again.
This metal box turned back into an ordinary elevator, not the sealed dark room that made two people lose their minds two minutes ago.
I used the moment to come to my senses, fix my clothes, stand up, act like nothing happened. But looking at his face, I couldn't suppress the feeling.
Really wish this damn elevator could've stayed broken a little longer.
Before I could swallow that thought, Enzo grabbed my wrist. The force yanked me back hard, my whole body slamming into his chest. He tightened his arm around my waist, other hand flying to the panel, hitting some button. I didn't see which one.
Then he lowered his head, lips against my ear.
"The fun," he said quietly, seductively, "isn't finished yet."
Before I could react, Enzo ripped his suit jacket off himself and draped it over my shoulders. The jacket was huge, hanging on me like an expensive blanket, hem past my thighs. Then he bent down, arm hooking under my knees, lifting me completely.
The elevator stopped at the top floor. The doors opened. Instinctively, I tried to escape. But his arm was an iron band, giving me no room to retreat.
Outside stood three people. Enzo's executive secretary Katherine and two maintenance workers with toolboxes. Their faces went from anxious to shocked to uniformly frozen in petrified bewilderment.
The workers' eyeballs bounced twice between Enzo's open collar and me wrapped in his jacket. The secretary had slightly better control, but her right eyelid visibly twitched.
"Katherine, postpone the meeting."
Enzo's voice returned to flat, as if the person gasping against my neck in the darkness five minutes ago wasn't him.
No one asked a single question. The secretary turned at lightning speed. The two maintenance workers practically backed away. The hallway cleared in three seconds.
Enzo carried me in long strides toward the office at the end of the hall. Heavy double wooden doors—he barged through with his shoulder, then kicked them shut with his heel.
My vision spun. I was slammed down hard onto that massive executive desk. The surface was cold solid wood, temperature seeping through my skirt. I couldn't help shivering.
I opened my mouth to say something, but Enzo's large, burning body was already pressing down. His hand started at the inside of my knee, pushing up. My skirt bunched at my waist again, exposing my soaked underwear. His lips landed on my collarbone, sucking hard.
"Mm..." I gasped, fingers tangling wildly in his black hair. Those gel-fixed black strands came loose in my hands, surprisingly soft.
