Page 127 of Celestial Combat

“I’m not,” He murmured, but the blush on his cheekbones told me otherwise.

“Right.” I smiled, slowly hooking two fingers into the margin of his pants, just above the waistband. “Totally not jealous.”

“Kali,” He warned, not looking at me. “Someone could see us.”

I leaned into him, my arms wrapping loosely around his neck, chin tilted. He was warm, solid, impossibly still.

So disciplined…

Nothinglike the way he kissed me last night.Messy. Wet. Starved.

“Isn’t the glass wall of your office non-see-through?” I asked, voice soft. “You could touch me…”

My fingers went into his hair. His eyes slipped shut, a low groan rumbling in his throat.

“Kiss me…” I teased, flicking my tongue just barely across his lips.

His hands went to my waist, squeezing me tight – too tight to be casual. He held me like he didn’t want me to move away.

“Right now,” I whispered, “Andno one but uswould know.”

His forehead rested against mine for one heavy breath, then another. “We can’t,” He said finally, voice low and ragged.

His hard-on pressed against my tummy, sending liquid fire between my legs.

I pulled back a few inches, letting my soft smile speak volumes. “Whatever you say,Boss.”

With a turn of my heel, I slipped out of his hands and office, my pulse hammering, and biting my lip.

I made it ten minutes away from Zane.

Ten minutes of pretending I wasn’t still tasting him on my lips. Ten minutes of trying to ignore the heat still coiling low in my belly, the way his hands had gripped my waist like I was something fragile and dangerous all at once.

But Tony’s voice echoed in my mind.

I exhaled sharply, fingers tightening into fists. “Fuck it.”

Spinning around, I navigated back through the hallway leading to Zane’s office. The door was closed, the frosted glass offering no hint of what lay beyond.

I tried the handle. Locked.

Knocking softly, I waited. No answer.

My heart pounded as I reached into my bag, fingers brushing against the access card I’d ‘borrowed’ from Zane’s desk weeks ago. Sliding it through the reader, I heard the soft click of the lock disengaging.

“Zane?” I called out softly.

No response.

Stepping inside, I closed the door behind me, the click echoing in the quiet room. My eyes scanned the space – his desk, meticulously organized; the couch, its cushions slightly rumpled; the door to his private bathroom, cracked open.

The soft rustle of the shower came from within.

Heat flooded my cheeks. I shouldn’t be here. This was a mistake.

Turning on my heel, I reached for the door handle, intent on leaving before he–

“Fuck, Kali.”