Elena’s pov
Monday came in swinging.
Pow. Right to the face.
After that kiss on Friday—hot, reckless, cut off by my own stupid panic—Ethan strolled into the office like we hadn’t almost burned the building down with our mouths. Cool smile. Perfect hair. Coffee in hand.
“Morning, Elena.” He said with a smile on his face. One that made him look really striking. My p***y pulsed under me.
I wanted to grab him by the tie, shove him into my office, and finish what we started.
Instead, I gave him a stiff nod. Professional. Ice queen.
“Let’s get to work.”
Liar.
The weekend had been pure torture. My husband talked about golf scores and bills like he always did. I smiled. I nodded. I passed the salt during dinner.
All the while, my brain replayed Ethan—his lips, his hands, that dangerous s
