Ryder.

I carried Freya straight to my desk and set her down on the edge of it, her body light and pliant in my arms. She was still giggling softly, her arms looped loosely around my neck like she belonged there. Her short skirt had ridden up dangerously high on her thighs, exposing smooth, soft skin, and her crop top had shifted just enough to reveal a tantalizing strip of her stomach. Her cheeks were flushed a pretty pink from the alcohol and whatever mischief she’d been up to before barging in here.

I expected her to be embarrassed now that we were alone, at least a little subdued.

Instead,...