He looked at me like I was a risk he shouldn’t take, but already had. Like he’d do it again without a second thought.

“I should fire you,” he growled.

“Then do it,” I snapped.

But he didn’t.

His hands hovered near my waist, like they didn’t need to land to burn. His eyes were all over me, devouring me, undressing me without lifting a single button. I could feel it in every breath he took. Every slow rake of his gaze across my lips, my chest, my thighs. He wasn’t in a rush. ...