CHAPTER THREE

I swore it wouldn’t happen again.

I promised myself I’d never let Ethan touch me at work.

And yet, by Wednesday, I was pressed against the back wall of the elevator, his hand fisted in my hair, his mouth crushing mine like he’d been starving.

The doors had barely closed when he pounced.

“Mmm—Ethan—” I gasped, pushing weakly at his chest. “Stop—someone could—”

“Shut up.” His tongue forced into my mouth, dominating, tasting. His hand slid under my ...