It was late. Ethan was still in his office, reviewing contracts, when Lena returned to hand him a folder. Her hand brushed his. A tiny touch—but enough to send shockwaves through him.
"You're too intense," she said softly.
"And you provoke me," he whispered, his eyes locking with hers.
She didn't move. And neither did he. The air between them was charged, heavy with unspoken desire.
He stepped closer. She didn't flinch. The next second, their faces were inches apart. Ethan could feel her breath, taste her—everything he'd been trying to resist.
Before he could cross the line, she pulled back with a laugh that was equal parts defiance and mischief.
"Not yet," she said. "Don't get ahead of yourself."
Ethan clenched his fists, struggling with the ache of wanting her so badly but being denied.
And in that moment, he knew: Lena Moore wasn't just a challenge. She was a storm he couldn't escape—and he didn't want to.