The elevator doors closed.

Rhys didn’t speak. He simply stood behind me, close enough that I felt the heat of his chest against my back, and traced one slow finger down the length of my spine under my blazer. The touch was light. Possessive. A silent reminder that his come was still leaking out of me with every heartbeat.

I stared straight ahead at the mirrored doors, jaw tight, trying to ignore the way my pussy clenched around nothing, trying to ignore how sensitive I still was.

“You’re quiet,” he murmured near my ear.

“I’m trying not to slap you in a public elevator.”

His soft huff of laughter ghosted...