The door clicked shut behind you.

The faint strip of light from the hallway vanished, plunging the room into a thick, suffocating darkness.

Before you could react, your body lurched forward.

Your chest struck the desk, the polished wood cold and unyielding beneath you. The impact forced the breath from your lungs in a sharp gasp.

And then—

Heat.

A body pressed down over yours, heavy and burning, pinning you firmly against the desk.

Your heart slammed wildly against your ribs.

His knee slid between your thighs, forcing them apart with steady, unyielding pressure. The movement left you bent helplessly over the edge of the desk, completely trapped beneath him.

A low sound escaped his throat.

Not quite a growl. Not quite a groan.

Something rougher.

Something desperate.

He didn’t kiss you.

Instead, his head lowered, burying itself against the side of your neck.

Soft strands of dark hair fell forward, brushing your skin. The faint touch sent a tremor racing down your spine.

His breath was hot—too hot—ghosting across the sensitive hollow of your throat.

Then his mouth followed.

His lips pressed against your nape, lingering there for a moment before his teeth grazed the delicate skin. Not enough to break it—but enough to leave a throbbing heat behind.

Your fingers curled helplessly against the desk.

His breathing grew uneven.

Ragged.

Each exhale burned against your skin as though the heat inside him had nowhere else to escape.

You felt it then—the trembling.

Not a slight shiver.

His entire body shook behind you, like a man fighting against something far stronger than himself.

His hands closed around your wrists, pulling them together and pinning them above your head.

Firm.

Unmovable.

He was restraining you—

Or perhaps restraining himself.

His body pressed closer, the heat of him radiating through the thin layers of fabric between you. Every small movement drew another strained breath from his chest, as if simply being this close was already pushing him past the edge of his control.

He wasn’t tearing at your clothes.

He wasn’t forcing you further down.

But his body betrayed him, shifting restlessly, searching for relief from the fever that seemed to consume him from within.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

Then finally—

“...Don’t move.”

His voice came out hoarse. Rough, as though the words had been dragged through his throat.

A shudder ran through him as his grip tightened.

“Please…”

His forehead pressed against your shoulder as if the effort of holding himself back was unbearable.

“Don’t move.”

And then he buried his face deeper into the curve of your neck, his entire body trembling against yours.