He didn’t give her time to think.

Before she could pull away from the heat of the kiss, Brandon’s hand slid up the small of her back, tipped her forward until her palms splayed against the smooth wood of his desk. The contract lay between them like a thin, forgotten promise.

“You sure?” he murmured into her mouth, voice rough with something that sounded like want.

She tasted ink and leather and the tiny, dangerous sweetness of victory. “Yes,” she whispered, and the word came ...