If he ever ended up on an auction block, people would lose their damn minds.
“Auctioned off?” One dark eyebrow rose and his lips twitched.
“We can talk about it later,” she said, standing and smoothing down her dress. His eyes tracked the movement of her hands, slow and deliberate, before flicking back to her face. Her heart kicked up a notch—or ten.
Lochlan’s gaze shifted, landing on one of the pots clustered at one corner of her desk. With restless energy, he reached out, brushing his fingers over a rough-edged leaf. Nia leaned forward as red flowers bloomed under his touch, the vibrant color spreading like fire.
“Whoa,” she said, her voice soft with wonder. “I didn’t know it had flowers.”
“Episcia,” he said, lifting the plant with careful hands. “They bloom if they get enough sunlight.”
He walked it over to the table by the window, setting it down where the light streamed through. He lingered, his fingers brushing absently over the pot as though he was settling himself. His posture was relaxed, but Nia could still feel the tension rolling off him.
“I got it because the leaves reminded me of dragon skin,” she admitted.
Lochlan glanced back at her, his expression shifting, surprise softening the harsh angles of his features. “Most people only like pretty, easy things.” He stepped toward her slowly. “You’re pretty. But you’re not easy.”
Her grip tightened on the edge of the desk as she looked up at him, their shoes nearly touching. “You think I’m pretty?”
“You walk into a room and I forget everything else exists.” He toyed with a strand of her hair before adding, “I’ve never seen anyone carry their fire like you do. I misspoke, pretty doesn’t cover it.”
Her breath caught. “What brings you to this side of Stella Rune?”
“I had a book to drop off a few doors down,” he said casually, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. “I thought I’d stop by. I… needed a distraction.”
A distraction?
Before she could unpack the weight of his words, he stepped closer.
“I needed you,” he said, his honesty cutting through what little remained of her defenses.
The world tilted as his hand brushed her cheek and his lips met hers. There was no hesitation, no pause to question. He kissed her like it was instinct, like they’d done it a thousand times before.
Her hands slid to his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as she leaned into him. The kiss was sure and familiar, but still sent a jolt through her, as if she hadn’t already memorized the way he tasted.
He broke away just enough to rest his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the intimate space between them. “You make it hard to think,” he murmured, his voice unsteady.
Her laugh was soft, shaky. “Then don’t think. Let me be a distraction.”
His eyes closed briefly, his expression torn between restraint and surrender, and then he kissed her again—deeper this time. His hands slid down to the back of her dress, fingers gathering the soft fabric.
“This damned dress,” he muttered against her lips, frustration laced with desire. There was a mixture of reverence and urgency in the way he tugged at it, like the dress had been taunting him all day.
She felt everything—too much and just enough. Confidence surged through her veins, different from the usual self-assurance she carried. With him like this, needy and open, she felt untouchable. Like a siren pulling him under, leaving him powerless to resist.
“The dress, it’s magic,” she whispered when they finally broke for air, her voice low and teasing.
Behind Lochlan, shadows uncurled, fast and fluid, racing across the window and snapping the curtains shut. Stella Rune vanished in an instant, swallowed by darkness and silence. The only light came from the scattered lanterns and candles she’d placed around the office. Their flickering warmth painted the room in gold.
“Mmm.” He leaned in to claim her mouth again, but she tilted her head back, just out of reach. His brow furrowed, his gaze locking on hers, making her pulse trip.
Satisfied with his attention, she slowly grasped the ties at her waist that kept the dress wrapped around her. With a quick tug, the fabric gave way, falling open like a spell undone.
“Damn.” The word came out rough as his eyes swept over her. Her bra, a light silk that shimmered in the low light, paired perfectly with matching underwear that left little to the imagination. Semi-sheer tights clung to her thighs and waist.
His hands slid slowly up the length of her legs, palms gliding over the soft mesh—practical, she’d told herself this morning. Nothing about it felt practical now. All she could focus on was the way his fingers lingered, his grip firm enough to make her breath hitch.
“Do you have another pair of these?” he asked, his tone almost too casual, but the intensity in his gaze gave him away.
