Alex is on me.

No hesitation. No patience.

Just raw, unfiltered need.

His hands grip my waist, yanking me flush against him, his body a furnace of heat and coiled power. His ragged breath is heavy with restraint that’s hanging by a single frayed thread.

“Damn, babe.” His hold on me tightens, his fingertips pressing into my skin. “That was fucking hot.”

A breathless laugh escapes me, but it vanishes the second his lips ghost over mine. His eyes are dark, heavy-lidded, devouring.

“Was it?”

“You were such a boss.” His fingers skim up my spine, dragging fire in their wake. “Sexiest damn thing I’ve ever seen, the way you handled him.”

I don’t even have time to react before his mouth crashes onto mine. There’s nothing soft about it. Nothing patient.

Teeth, tongues, lips—everything is fevered, frantic.

His hands are everywhere—one tangling in my hair, angling my head for deeper, hotter kisses, the other sliding down to my ass, gripping hard as he pulls me closer. I feel every inch of him, every solid muscle, every sharp edge that makes Alex Sebring the man who owns me.

His hands slip lower, gripping the backs of my thighs, and before I can react, he lifts me onto the desk.

My breath hitches, a sharp gasp swallowed by his mouth as he steps between my legs, pressing into me, showing me how much he needs this.

“Alex––” I say, but it’s more of a plea.

“I loved watching you put McRae in his place.”

His lips brush my jaw, trailing lower, his teeth grazing my pulse, sending a shudder rippling through me.

I’m already gone.

Fire pools low in my stomach, coiling tighter, threatening to consume me.

I drag my nails down his back and dig my heels into the backs of his thighs, urging him closer. “Show me how much it turned you on.”

A low, dark curse slips from his lips, then he moves.

He shoves my skirt up, bunching the fabric around my hips with rough hands. His fingertips trail a path up my thighs, teasing, claiming. A firm grip on my hips drags me closer to the edge of the desk. His fingers hook under my lace panties, sliding them down, leaving me bare, trembling, aching for him.

A low, guttural growl rumbles from his chest—raw, hungry—and then he’s gone, only for a heartbeat. Pants shoved down, he settles between my thighs like he’s never letting me go again.

One hand clamps down on my hip, anchoring me. The other guides himself to where I need him most.

With one hard thrust, he’s inside me, filling me to the hilt. A gasping cry rips from my throat, my head snapping back as he stretches me, wrecks me, claims every broken, desperate part of me.