24-
I kiss him like I’ve never kissed anyone in my life. Like he’s oxygen. Like he’s the only real thing left in the world. I melt into him, sink into the heat of his hands on my skin and the soft rasp of his breath against my cheek.
We’re magnets—hopelessly tangled, gravity-drunk and addicted—and I don’t even try to pull away. Not until someone knocks on the damn door.
Caden lets out a low growl, rough and frustrated, and I laugh into his chest, still breathless.
“Give us a minute,” he grumbles, voice wrecked and hoarse.
He hands me my clothes as we leave our office bathroom without meeting my eyes—probably because if he did, we’d end up right back where we started. I dress quickly. My hands are still shaking, but it’s not from nerves.
It’s from him.
He tugs on his shirt like it pe
