"Tessa," Roman took a single, massive step, obliterating the remaining distance between us. His voice was a low, vibrating growl of tightly coiled power. "Do you have any idea what you just did?"
"Fed the team?" I tried to take a step back, but the edge of my transparent desk cut into my lower back. "For the record, the street cart guy swore the onions were fresh—"
He slammed his hands onto the desk on either side of my hips, trapping me instantly. In one brutal, lightning-fast jerk, he yanked my waist flush against his hard chest. The heavy scent of garlic and street food clashed violently with his natural aroma of fresh pine, rain, and raw male heat, creating a intoxicating, dizzying cocktail in my lungs.
"You smell like something I should throw out of a seventy-eighth-floor window,"
