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She makes a sound when my fingers touch her skin. A small, breathless thing that goes straight to my head.

“Maxim.” Her voice is barely a whisper.

Her hands move from my chest to my shoulders, gripping the fabric of my shirt like she needs something to hold onto. I kiss her deeper, sliding my tongue against hers, and she responds with a hesitancy that confirms what I already suspected.

She’s never done this before.

The realization should stop me. It should make me step back, reassess, remember all the reasons why this is a terrible idea. She’s twenty-three and she’s my hostage. She’s vulnerable in ways she doesn’t even understand.

Davina’s also looking at me like I’m the only thing in the world that matters right now. And I can’t make myself stop.

My hand slides under her shirt, palm flat against the warm skin of her sides, and she inhales sharply against my mouth. She’s curvier than I thought at first, with beautifully soft skin and generous hips. Her fingers dig into my shoulders, holding on, and I can feel the tremor that runs through her body.

I pull her shirt up and over her head in one motion, tossing it aside. She’s standing in front of me in just a bra, and I take a moment to look at her. Really look at her. She has a beautiful pear-shaped figure, with small breasts and full hips.

She flushes under my gaze, arms starting to cross over herself, and I catch her wrists before she can hide.

“Don’t.”

“I—”

“You’re beautiful.” I pin her wrists against the wall on either side of her head. “Don’t hide from me.”

She stares at me with those dark eyes, and I can see the war happening inside her. The part that knows this is wrong, that she shouldn’t want this, shouldn’t want me, and the part that does anyway.

I lean in and kiss her again, slower this time. Less desperate. I want her to feel this, to understand what she’s doing.

She kisses me back. Her wrists flex under my grip, not trying to escape, just testing. I hold her there, pinned and helpless, and I feel the moment she stops fighting and surrenders.

I release her wrists and reach behind her, unclasping her bra with practiced ease. It falls away, and then she’s bare from the waist up, pressed against the wall of my study, looking at me like she doesn’t know whether to run or beg.

I choose for her.

I lower my head and take one nipple in my mouth. She gasps, her hand flying to the back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair. I swirl my tongue around the peak, then bite gently, and she makes a sound that goes straight to my cock.

“Maxim—”

“Shh.” I move to the other breast, giving it the same attention while my hand slides down her side, tracing the curve of her hip. “I’ve got you.”

I find the button of her pants and undo it, sliding the zipper down. She tenses, and I pause.

“Want me to stop?”

She shakes her head. Not a word, just that small motion, and it’s enough.

I push her pants down over her hips, taking her underwear with them. She steps out of them, and then she’s completely naked, completely exposed, and I’m still fully dressed.

I step back just enough to look at her. All of her. The soft swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the curve of her hips. The dark hair between her thighs. The way she’s trembling slightly, not from cold but from want.

“On the desk,” I say.

Her eyes widen. “What?”

“Sit on the desk.”

She hesitates for a moment, then moves. I watch her cross the short distance to my desk, watch her lift herself onto it, watch her sit there waiting for me with her legs dangling over the edge.

I move between her knees. My hands settle on her thighs, pushing them apart, and she lets out a shaky breath.