In Flames - Elise Faber Page 0,3

liked. Way too fucking much. Except . . . “Why are you wearing it?” he asked, a bolt of annoyance shooting through him.

Or maybe it wasn’t annoyance so much as jealousy.

She shouldn’t have dressed with care, planning to sleep with someone else, then jump him in the hall.

He should be special and hers—only hers.

Dumbass.

Him.

Because she didn’t belong to him, and if she wanted to sleep with someone, he didn’t have one fucking right to say anything about it. Guilt slid through him at that thought, enough to clear the haze of desire and make him step back a pace.

Suz couldn’t be his. She was Amelia’s.

Amelia’s friend.

Her young friend.

A husky chuckle.

“You think my underwear was for him?” She shoved down her jeans, stepped out of the black flats and denim then moved toward him in that skimpy lace set of undergarments.

One finger trailed down his chest.

Plump lips curved up.

“Oh, no, honey,” she murmured. “I wear it for me.”

Fire licking the base of his spine, his cock hardening farther. He slipped his fingers into her pale brown hair, reveling in the silken locks, the way it made her scent assault his senses anew.

Tilting her head back, he pressed his lips to the base of her throat and inhaled deeply.

“You smell incredible,” he growled.

Hands on his biceps, clutching tight. “S-so do you,” she said then hissed when he nipped lightly at the place where throat met shoulder and dragged his mouth across her collarbone.

And down.

Down.

But hell, she hadn’t grown a foot in the last few minutes, so it wasn’t long before he was getting a crick in his neck and feeling frustrated that he couldn’t reach all the parts he wanted.

Thankfully, he could think on his feet.

He walked her backward, pressed her against her desk. The top cluttered with papers and office supplies, coffee mugs and pencils. “These files important?”

“Wh-what?” she asked, breathing hard, her hands running up and down his chest, her chocolate brown eyes clouded with desire.

“These papers important?” Graham nodded toward the stacks of files.

“No,” she said and grinned.

But before he could ask her why she was smiling, why there was mischief in her eyes, she turned, extended a hand, and shoved everything off the surface of her desk. The contents hit the floor in a flurry of noise—folders and papers, the empty mug and picture frame, pencils and pens, paperclips and Post-Its and rubber bands all colliding with the tile, exploding around them like confetti.

He’d imagined a few papers hitting the ground.

This was . . . chaos.

But before he could focus too fully on the mess, she spun back to face him, a huge grin on her face. “I’m going to hate myself in the morning when I have to clean that up.” Hands slipping under his T-shirt, gripping his waist, and tugging him closer even as she sat on the edge of the desk and spread her thighs. “But I’ve always wanted to do that.”

He grinned. “Living on the edge, sweetheart?”

“The office supply edge?” A snort. “Yeah, that’s the extent of my wildness.” She traced light patterns on his stomach. “I’m boring.”

He chuckled.

Somehow, he didn’t think the woman who wore lavender lace and toppled desktops and so confidently pulled him close was anything close to boring.

He brushed his thumb over her cheek. “Nice try, but I saw you,” he whispered, remembering the last time the Dalshie—the enemy who’d made it their life’s work to eradicate their people—had attacked. Suz had fought being evacuated, but in the end, she’d relented, knowing that as their strongest healer, the vulnerable needed her. But she’d come back the moment it was safe, and she’d stayed and healed their people until her body gave out. Then she’d gotten up and done it all again the next day. Maybe she hadn’t killed the enemy firsthand, but she’d given herself, life and limb, to protect her people. So, even with the lace and confidence, she was as much of a soldier as he was.

Brows drawing down, her head tilting slightly to the side. “What do you mean?”

He tucked a strand of her hair behind her. “I saw you out there with us, risking your life for our people. Healing until you passed out.”

A shrug. “It’s my job to heal people.”

Such a Suz thing to say.

“Also,” she murmured. “I don’t want to talk about my work.” She wound her arms around his neck. “I want you to go back to kissing me.”

“You sure?” he asked, even though his cock felt ready to snap in half. His