The fragile boundary of control we’d both fought so hard to maintain didn’t just snap—it vanished entirely. In the shadows of the locked library, the risk of discovery ceased to exist. The gala, the Ashfords, the cameras, the carefully constructed lies—all of it drowned in the sheer, overwhelming wave of a year’s worth of starved desire.
Ethan carried me away from the door, the distance to the heavy mahogany desk covered in two blind, desperate strides. With a swift, careless sweep of his arm, a stack of heavy, leather-bound volumes slid off the wood, hitting the thick Persian rug with a dull, forgotten thud. He set me down on the edge of the dark wood, immediately crowding into my space, his body heavy and unyielding as he pressed me back.
My hands, completely operating on a wild instin
