NOAH
The transition from the backseat of the car to the interior of Cassian's penthouse was a blur of friction and heat.
We hadn't even made it past the foyer before the door clicked shut with a heavy, final thud, and then Cassian was on me.
There was no preamble, no polite transition from "boss" to "lover." He pinned me against the cool wood of the door, his hands tangling in my hair, his mouth crashing against mine with a hunger that felt like it had been building since the moment he stepped into that karaoke bar.
It was Intense, the kind of kiss that makes your toes curl and your brain short-circuit. I was lost in it, my hands clutching the lapels of his charcoal coat, pulling him closer, wanting the solid weight of him to crush the last of my breath away. We were heading toward the bedroom, or the floor, or the nearest flat surface, I didn't care, until the silence was shattered.
His phone.
