Anna's POV
The elevator doors hadn’t even closed behind us before his mouth was on mine.
Hard. Hungry. Like the last twenty minutes of restrained silence in the car had been some kind of punishment he was done serving. His hands were in my hair, on my jaw, gripping like he didn’t trust the ground beneath him and I was the only stable thing in the room.
I bit his bottom lip just to remind him: not yours to claim.
He growled. Actually growled.
And God, that sound did something to me.
We were still kissing when the elevator dinged at the top floor. Still kissing when the doors slid open with the softest chime. He barely broke stride, dragging me backwards into the foyer, our mouths still tangled.
His hand hit the wall behind me—slammed it—then both of mine were braced against his chest
