In the janitor's closet…
Zoe's head was tipped back against the metal shelving, her fingers digging desperately into Kai's shoulders. The kiss was consuming—a wet, heated battle for dominance that she was perfectly happy to lose. His hand between her thighs was ruthless, finding an agonizingly slow rhythm through the damp lace of her underwear.
"Fuck, Kai," Zoe moaned into his mouth, her hips bucking off the wall.
"You have to be quiet," Kai murmured, his breath hot against her swollen lips. He shifted his stance, crowding her further into the dark, his thumb pressing down right where she needed it.
The coil in her lower belly pulled tight. She was floating, soaring, seconds away from completely forgetting her own name.
And then, a shrill, theatrical scream pierced right through the thin wooden door of the closet.
"Help! Damien Sinclair's men are attacking us! Help her!"
Zoe froze.
