Volkov slammed the door to his study room behind him. But the echo did nothing to overpower it.

He crossed the room, loosened his cuff once, placed his palms against his desk, stood up, pushed the chair back, and slumped onto it.

His shoulders were rigid, his spine straightened, jaw clenched so hard a dull ache pulsed at his temple.

He couldn't get it out of his head.

Her gasp. Her yelp.

She's always been on his mind. Always.

But this—this was different.

The way her body ...