Nathaniel knew he was playing with fire, but he had already stepped too far into the flames to turn back now. The moment he kissed her, the moment he let himself feel the warmth of her body pressed against his, the moment he surrendered to the silent pull that had been drawing them together for months—he knew there was no return. He had built his life around control, discipline, and keeping his emotions caged beneath a carefully crafted exterior of indifference, but Elena had shattered that illusion with nothing more than a glance, a whisper, a touch. Now, as he stood in the quiet of his office, with her leaning against the edge of his desk, her breath shallow, her lips slightly parted in anticipation, he realized he was no longer the man he had been before.
She had changed him.
She had ruined him.
And he didn't care.
His fingers traced the delicate curve of her jaw, his touch featherlight yet possessive, memorizing every inch of her, savoring the way she tilted her head into his touch as if silently begging for more. Her skin was warm beneath his fingertips, soft and smooth, and the way her breath caught when his thumb brushed over her lower lip sent a surge of something primal through him, something he had fought so hard to suppress. But there was no more suppressing it. No more pretending. No more fighting against what had always been inevitable.
"Elena," he murmured, his voice rough, filled with something raw, something unspoken.
She looked up at him through her lashes, her dark eyes holding something that made his heart slam against his ribs. Trust. Want. The same dangerous hunger that had been threatening to consume him for weeks.
"Nathaniel," she whispered, and it was his undoing.
Before he could think, before he could stop himself, he closed the distance between them, capturing her lips in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was desperate, demanding, possessive—a claim, a promise, a confession of everything he couldn't put into words. She responded instantly, her hands sliding up his chest, fingers fisting in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, as if she needed him as much as he needed her.
And God help him, he needed her.
His hands found her waist, his grip tightening as he lifted her effortlessly, setting her on the edge of his desk, positioning her so that their bodies aligned perfectly so that there was nothing left between them but heat and want and the undeniable certainty that this was where they were always meant to be.
She gasped softly against his lips, her legs instinctively parting to accommodate him, her arms winding around his neck as she pulled him impossibly closer. His hands roamed, sliding up her sides, tracing the gentle curve of her spine, pressing her against him until he could feel every breath she took, every rapid beat of her heart. He could barely think, barely breathe, drowning in the taste of her, in the way her body molded against his like she belonged to him.
And maybe she did.
Maybe she always had.
Nathaniel had never allowed himself to lose control like this. Not with anyone. But with Elena, it was different. It was more than just desire, more than just attraction—it was needed. A need that burned through him, consumed him, and destroyed every ounce of restraint he had ever possessed. She was soft beneath his touch, pliant and eager, responding to his every movement with a quiet, breathless desperation that made his pulse hammer in his ears.
His lips left hers only to trail lower, down the line of her jaw, to the delicate curve of her neck, where he could feel the rapid beat of her pulse beneath his lips. She shivered against him, her fingers tightening in his hair as a soft, trembling sigh escaped her. He needed to hear more of that, needed to feel more of her, needed to make her fall apart the way he had been falling apart since the moment he met her.
He pressed a kiss just below her ear, lingering, savoring the way her body tensed, the way she arched into him, silently begging for more. His hands slid lower, gripping her hips, pulling her against him in a way that left no doubt about how much he wanted her. She gasped, her head falling back slightly, exposing more of her throat to him, and he took advantage of it, his lips trailing lower, his tongue flicking against the sensitive skin just above her collarbone.
"Nathaniel…" her voice was breathless, barely more than a whisper, but it sent a bolt of heat straight through him
He groaned softly, his grip tightening, his self-control slipping further and further away. "Tell me to stop," he murmured against her skin, though he already knew the answer.
She shook her head, her hands sliding down his back, nails scraping lightly against the fabric of his shirt, sending shivers down his spine. "I don't want you to stop."
And that was it.
Whatever remained of his restraint snapped.
He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his breathing ragged, his eyes dark with the kind of hunger that could no longer be contained. "You have no idea what you're doing to me," he rasped, his fingers tightening around her waist, his body pressed so closely to hers that he could feel every single tremor that ran through her.
She smiled, slow and knowing, her fingers reaching up to trace the sharp angle of his jaw, her touch featherlight but devastating. "I think I do."
And then she kissed him.
This time, she was the one who took control, the one who deepened the kiss, the one who destroyed him. He groaned against her mouth, his hands roaming, exploring, claiming every inch of her. He was drowning in her, lost in the taste of her, the feel of her, the way she fit against him so perfectly that it felt like she had been made for him.
There was no going back.
There was no stopping this.
There was only her.
Only this.
And Nathaniel was never letting her go.