FINN

“And my job is to clean up, Mr Sterling.” she said reassuringly, boldly picking the challenge I was throwing.

I had her pinned between my desk and my body, the scent of her—a mix of industrial lavender and something soft, like honey and vanilla—filling my lungs until I just couldn't think straight.

I slowly let one of my hands crawl up her body, until I hooked it into the neckline of her shirt. Right there, I could feel the thrum of her pulse against my knuckle.

"You’re playing a dangerous game, Julia," I murmured, my voice sounding like it had been dragged over gravel. "A janitor? With a face...