Page 34 of Savage Obsession

I tilt my head. “I don’t understand.”

“You said you’d be quiet.”

“I have been quiet.”

He plants his hands on the table and leans down so that we’re at eye level. “You promised you wouldn’t distract me.”

“I’ve hardly moved,” I argue, trying to keep my voice even.

Aithan’s jaw clenches. He straightens and gestures downward—toward the very visible evidence of his frustration. I follow his gaze and—oh.

The bulge in his tailored pants is unmistakable.

Heat rushes up my neck. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” he says dryly. “Oh.”

I press my lips together, suppressing a smirk. “So… would you want me to take care of that? I wouldn’t mind.”

He pins me with a smothering look, his eyes flashing with something dark and dangerous. “You’re playing with fire, agápi.”

I lift a brow. “Am I? Maybe I like to get burnt.”

Aithan moves so fast I barely have time to react before I’m pinned against the nearest wall, his broad frame pressing into mine. His hands bracket my waist, trapping me in place.

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” he murmurs, his lips brushing my ear.

I swallow hard. “What am I doing?”

He runs a finger along my jawline, tilting my chin up. “Making me insane.”

I let out a shaky breath, my heart hammering. “That’s not my fault.”

Aithan lets out a low chuckle, his eyes dark with intent. “Oh, it absolutely is.”

I barely have time to process his words before his mouth crashes into mine.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I register we are in his office and the door may not be locked, but I don’t care. Aithan’s kiss is possessive, devouring, and entirely consuming. His hands are everywhere—gripping my hips, tracing my spine, tangling in my hair.

I arch against him, and he groans, deep and low, against my mouth. “Yelena,” he rasps, his breath hot against my skin.

“Yes?” I breathe, already lost in the haze of him.

“I should stop.”

I let out a soft laugh, threading my fingers through his dark hair. “Then why aren’t you?”

He growls in response, lifting me onto his desk in one fluid motion. His hands slide beneath my skirt, fingers tracing the sensitive skin of my thighs. I shiver at his touch, my pulse hammering in anticipation.

“I have meetings,” he murmurs against my lips.

“Reschedule them.”

His laughter is a rough, husky sound, and it vibrates against my skin. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

I grip the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. “Then die happy.”

His hands tighten on my waist, and just as he’s about to claim my mouth again, a knock echoes through the office door and I freeze.

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