The heavy oak doors of the library clicked shut, sealing out the muffled roar of the gala. The silence here was thick, smelling of old parchment, beeswax, and the lingering scent of Genevieve’s jasmine perfume and the sudden, violent silence of the room.
I didn't even have time to reach the center of the room before she turned and slammed me back against the heavy oak doors. The impact knocked the breath from my lungs, but before I could recover, her lips were on mine. It wasn't a kiss; it was a collision. She tasted of champagne and hunger, her tongue fighting mine with a desperation that mirrored my own.
"Mmm," she groaned into my mouth, her hands sliding up my chest to grip my tie, pulling me down toward her. "Do you feel that, Sterling? Your heart is racing. The great strategist is
