She doesn't know it---or maybe she does and this is some kind of cruel revenge for my good behavior today. All I know is that watching her bounce from appointment to appointment in those painted-on jeans and that scrap of white cotton she calls a shirt has been the sweetest kind of hell.
I've had to play nice. Had to be charming. Had to keep my hands to myself while every cell in my body screamed to claim what's mine.
The second we step into the elevator, I'm done being good.
Nova gasps as I crowd her against the wall, caging her with my body. She melts against me instantly, her hips seeking mine, those soft lips parting on a breath. But because she's Nova---my contrary, stubborn Nova---she forces her mouth into a frown. "There's a whole elevator, Sam. We don't have to be on top of each
