— Published
AURORA
I shouldn't be shaking this badly.
I mean... I don't think I should be.
I don't know. Maybe I should. Maybe it was even to be expected when you spend the whole night committing the biggest mistake—or the best kind of madness—of your life.
But the truth is, my leg is bouncing under the table like it has a mind of its own. Frenetic rhythm. Like a malfunctioning engine. Like I'm freaking out and trying to pretend I'm not.
I tug down the hem of my button-down—the unofficial "uniform" of an executive assistant—and straighten it for the fourth time in five minutes. The collar insists on sitting crooked. Or my hand insists on shaking and messing everything up. I don't know. Maybe it's a little of both.
And it's ridiculous, because I'm sitting here in front of the computer with documents to review, reports to send, and emails to filter. All perfectly simple, completely routine. But my head?
My head is anywhere but here.
Of course it is.
How am I supposed to concentrate after last night?
I squeeze my eyes shut for a second, but that only makes it worse.
When I close my eyes, I see everything even more clearly.
The motel door closing behind us.
That yellow light illuminating the far-too-expensive room.
His touch sliding up my waist.
The way Adrian held my face as if I were precious, or fragile, or far too interesting—I still don't know which of the three scares me most.
And when he put his mouth on my neck?
Oh my God.
I shiver just remembering it.
Literally shiver—I can feel the hairs on my arms stand at attention, as if they expect him to appear behind me again, moving far too silently for a man that tall.
The worst part is, that's not an exaggeration.
He really does move that way—smooth, silent, calculated.
Almost... supernatural.
Almost.
I shake my head quickly, trying to push the word away.
He's not supernatural.
He's just a very strange, eccentric, mysterious CEO who's... dangerous in the most sensual way possible.
Right. That didn't help.
I open an email just to pretend I'm working, but my legs keep shaking. I press my hand against them to force them to stay still.
"Stop. Stop, for the love of God," I mutter to myself.
They don't stop.
And honestly, I'm not surprised.
The images keep coming back.
The innocent ride home to drop me off...
That turned into a detour...
Which turned into him looking at me in that way that shattered me completely...
And the rest turned into... hours.
Far too many hours.
Hot, intense, dirty, devoted hours—I don't even know how to describe them.
I've never been the kind of girl who complicates sex.
I've never had hang-ups, never been fussy.
Attraction is attraction. Chemistry is chemistry.
Condoms solve half the problems of modern adulthood.
But I shouldn't have done that with my boss.
MY.
BOSS.
And he's not just my boss.
He's the CEO of Thorne Enterprises.
The owner of the building.
The owner of absolutely everything.
Including, apparently, my sanity.
The worst part?
I can't forget the way he touched me.
He didn't touch me like a normal man.
It was a slow, deliberate touch... almost reverent.
When he ran his fingertips along my neck...
When his tongue slid just above my vein...
It was as if he were savoring the moment.
Savoring me.
Which makes no sense.
None of it makes sense.
Because Adrian is thirty-five years old.
That's what they say.
But that look...
The way he watches people in silence...
That absurd calm in the way he speaks...
That almost hallucinatory intensity...
That precision in his movements...
I take a deep breath.
Again.
And again.
If I let my mind go too far, I'll end up believing he really is three hundred years old, not thirty-five.
Ridiculous.
Ridiculous, Aurora.
Get a grip.