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“Fuck,” I cursed, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. To what? Push away or pull myself closer?
The low, rumbling chuckle vibrated through me like a drug. “What? Surprised? And after such strong fighting words…”
Part of me knew that backing down gave the safest long-term path. But an overwhelming need covered my caution in a body bag.
I wanted to challenge him. Just as much as he challenged me.
With a final eulogy toward my common sense, I pushed my thigh forward until it settled between his legs. “Oh? And who said I’d even begun to fight, Professor?”
Razai went rigid, his hips jutting harder into me while I tried to keep the sliver of cool I had left. Gods, I could feel every fucking inch of him—
“You play dirty, Detective,” he admitted. The reply sounded like surrender, but he didn’t loosen his hold.
“I don’t play at all,” I said, willing myself to believe the words. “I win.” Now the only goal was to not grind myself on him. But it was like my hips needed to move, begged me to open for him. Crumpling his shirt in my fists was the only thing keeping me from exploring his body. I wouldn’t do that either, but gods did I want to let go and do what I pleased.
Plus, I was keenly aware of who he was and the danger of letting this go further.
He was an archangel.
He was a client.
Every part of this reeked of poison and stupidity.
A strange, disconnected fear echoed in the back of my soul. The fear that kept me in the shadows of the city, taking on small clients and never dreaming too large. Where was that caution now? Why didn’t I care enough about my own self-preservation?
Razai murmured, “I have no doubt of that, Detective. But fire is fire, and soon enough, you might find yourself melting.” He cupped my cheek with painful gentleness and gazed at my lips. “I wonder what someone like you would taste like.”
“Someone like me?” I repeated, confused by the shift in his tone.
“Hm,” he confirmed, drawing his fingers through my hair and cupping the back of my head.
“And what is that?” I asked, fighting a dizzying swell of pleasure. With every second, my fight faded into a puddle of lust. I couldn’t hold back for much longer.
“A mystery. A walking puzzle. As you try to put the world together, my only interest will be breaking you apart,” he murmured.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
The corner of his mouth turned up in blatant satisfaction. “That alone made you shudder in my hands. As you should. I can promise it’s life-changing.”
“So is Armageddon,” I quipped, breathless. “And you aren’t nearly as seductive as you think you are.”
“You aren’t nearly as in control.”
Caution twanged to life, tightening like a bowstring. My mind cleared for a brief moment. To an outsider, this must look like a tragic clusterfuck. A lone woman with no social status grinding on a smug archangel who’s kinda-sorta-definitely her boss. The man pulling the strings to get her into a deadly murder case.
My jaw clenched painfully. Razai thought he had power over me. In most ways, he did. Socially, professionally, physically, and magically, he was more powerful. Now he’s acting like he could seduce me—and probably anyone with a working pulse and salivary glands—into a puddle.
I wouldn’t give in. Not in the way that mattered.
I planted my hand on his chest, steeled myself, and stepped back. “Fun’s over.”
He didn’t complain or argue.
It was even worse.
The bastard looked as self-satisfied as ever. With a playful tilt of his head, he replied, “Fun is an understatement.”
Silence cocooned us in the small closet. That’s when I realized the noise from the office had stopped. The creak of the wood desk, the moans and gasps…
