Chapter 18

• Without waiting for a response, I leaned down and covered his mouth with mine. It wasn't a tentative, careful kiss. It was an assault—aggressive, demanding, and utterly chaotic. I was pouring every ounce of my desperation, my fear, and my calculated allure into that single contact, desperate to shatter his control. I pushed off his desk and straddled his lap, the oversized white polo pooling around me. I could feel the powerful muscles of his thighs beneath mine. Joaquin didn't move for a fraction of a second, entirely paralyzed by the raw, volatile audacity of my move.
• But then I reached down, my hand sliding under the cotton fabric, trailing up his thigh, higher and higher.
• Joaquin's breath hitched, a guttural groan escaping his throat as my fingertips grazed his skin. He realized instantly what I was hiding—or rather, what I wasn't hiding. As my hand traveled higher, he met only the smooth perfection of my bare skin. I wasn't wearing anything beneath his oversized shirt.