Page 111
“What?”
His gaze drags over me, openly appreciative. “You’re dangerously attractive when you want someone dead.”
“Don’t.”
He comes around the desk anyway.
Of course he does. Very few people hear that tone in my voice and move closer, Elias has always been one of them.
“Most people would find this concerning,” he says, stopping in front of my chair and planting one hand on the arm of my chair as he leans over me. “You’ve been in here with that file since she left for lunch.”
His fingers hook beneath my chin. “You follow every rule you’ve ever made for yourself until someone touches what’s yours. Then suddenly the rulebook becomes negotiable.”
“Careful.”
“Or what?”
His thumb moves once along my jaw.
“Everyone looks at me and sees the dangerous one,” he says. “They never notice you’re the reason I know exactly where to aim.”
I smirk as I look at the man who has been my partner for over a decade. “And whose fault is that? Every time I say I want something, you make it your mission to deliver. You’ve enabled every one of my impulses since the day we met.”
“That’s not enabling.” His voice drops. “That’s partnership.”
His mouth closes over mine before I can respond again. Elias has never kissed me cautiously. There’s no need. He knows exactly how far he can push before I push back, and he can usually tell which one I need before I can.
His hand slides behind my neck, fingers tightening there as he deepens the kiss.
I let him have the first move.
The second is mine.
My hand closes around his wrist, and I’m on my feet before he can settle into the advantage. His back meets the edge of my desk, papers shifting behind him as I crowd into his space.
Elias’s grip tightens at my waist. He likes this part.
Not surrender. Not obedience. The push.
His fingers find my tie and slowly loosen the knot. “You’ve been wearing this thing like a choke chain since seven this morning.”
“It’s called professional work attire.”
“It’s called a weapon.” He tugs it free with one smooth pull. “You use it to keep everyone at arm’s length.”
“And yet here you are. Inside the perimeter.”
“I better fucking be.”
His hand slides up my chest, warm through the thin cotton of my shirt, and for a second I think he’s going to let me keep the advantage.
Then his grip shifts.
One hand catches my hip, and he turns us with the kind of effortless strength that would piss me off from anyone else. My lower back hits the edge of the desk before I can stop him, Elias crowding into the space between my knees.
“Better,” he murmurs.
“Debatable.”
