**
Kieran stilled, buried so deep inside her that the only sound left was their shared, ragged breathing. The tension in his shoulders didn't ease right away. He held her hips like he was afraid she'd vanish, like reality would snap back and rip her from him.
Lana blinked up at him, dazed, the world around her blurry and slow. She couldn't think—could barely feel anything but the ache between her thighs and the weight of what they'd just done. Kieran Valen. Her boss. Her enemy. The man who drove her crazy… had just made her come undone in the middle of his damn office.
He still hadn't moved.
Her hands slipped up his arms to his chest, gently pushing. "Kieran…"
He looked down at her then—eyes dark, burning, conflicted. "Don't say it was a mistake," he said quietly. "Not after this."
She swallowed. Her body was still trembling, skin flushed, legs weak. Her blouse was barely hanging on, bra pushed up, skirt bunched at her waist.
"I wasn't going to say that," she whispered, breath catching.
He exhaled hard, burying his face into the curve of her neck. His voice was muffled. "I didn't plan this, Lana. I swear I tried to stay away."
"You're the one who locked the door."
He chuckled darkly, lips grazing her skin. "Yeah. I did. And I'd do it again."
There was a long pause before he slowly withdrew from her, both of them wincing at the sudden emptiness. He helped her down from the desk with surprising gentleness, hands lingering too long on her waist.
As she adjusted her clothes, trying to smooth her skirt and fix her blouse, Kieran leaned back against the edge of the desk, watching her like he wasn't ready to let her leave.
And then, softly, "Who the hell is Derek?"
Her head snapped up. "What?"
"You heard me." His voice had changed—cooler now, dangerously calm. "You answered a call from a man named Derek right in the middle of... this."
She froze. Her fingers paused at the buttons of her blouse.
"You didn't think I'd notice?" he went on, arms crossing. "You were crying in the restroom that night. And now you answer a call from some guy while I'm kissing you?"
Lana stared at him. Her heart pounded with a different kind of intensity now—guilt, panic, maybe even defiance.
"It was just a call. I wasn't—thinking."
"Who is he to you?"
"Why does it matter?" she shot back, voice rising.
"Because I just f\*\*ked you against my desk, Lana," he snarled, stepping closer. "I think I've earned the right to know who the hell I'm competing with."
She stared up at him, torn between anger and disbelief. "You're not competing with anyone."
"Then tell me."
She swallowed hard. "He's… someone I used to know. From before. He's not in my life anymore."
Kieran narrowed his eyes. "Used to? Or still want to?"
"I don't know!"
He grabbed her wrist—not hard, just enough to make her look at him. "Tell me the truth."
"I don't know what I want," she snapped, voice cracking. "I'm confused, Kieran. You make everything confusing."
He let her go. But the look in his eyes? Possessive. Tormented.
She turned away from him, walking toward the far end of the office, arms wrapped around herself.
"I shouldn't have come here," she whispered.
"And yet you did," Kieran said behind her, voice low. "You always do."
Lana turned to him. "Because I hate that I want you."
His jaw clenched. "I hate that you think it's just want."
"What else is it supposed to be?"
He walked to her slowly, stopped just inches away. His hands came up to cup her face—soft now, reverent.
"I think about you when I wake up. When I try to sleep. When you're standing ten feet away or just outside that door. It's not just want, Lana." His thumb brushed her cheek. "It's obsession."
Her breath hitched. The heat between them didn't cool—it smoldered, deeper now.
"I want to ruin you for anyone else," he whispered.
And God help her… she wanted him to.