I stand there, fingers trembling as I hurriedly button my shirt, one button after another, trying to erase what just happened.
The meeting table no longer looks like a meeting table.
Files are scattered across the floor, papers half-crumpled, chairs pushed out of place—clear evidence of our chaos. My shirt is wrinkled, my collar crooked, my lips swollen, and my neck… I don't even need a mirror to know how bad it looks. The marks burn softly against my skin, a mix of heat and shame.
Behind me, warm arms slide around my waist.
I stiffen instantly.
Rion's chest presses against my back, solid and unyielding. His chin settles on my shoulder as if he belongs there—as if this is natural.
"Leave me," I snap, my voice sharp with anger I can't hide.
"Kitten," he murmurs softly, almost coaxing, "don't be angry with me."
His breath brushes my skin, warm and intimate, making my nerves flare. I grit my teeth.
"Rion, leave me alone."
