Page 11 of Falling for My Shifter Boss

When his hands move to my calf, I nearly jump out of my skin.

His touch is careful but firm, strong fingers pressing into the tight muscle. The warmth of his skin seeps through me, and I have to bite back a sound that would be mortifying to let escape.

I should stop this.

I should definitely stop this.

But I don't.

Instead, I watch him work, mesmerized by the way his dark brows furrow in concentration, the way his jaw clenches slightly as he focuses. His hands are surprisingly gentle for someone so powerful, each movement precise and measured.

The cramp begins to ease, but Adrian doesn't pull away. His thumbs trace slow circles that send sparks of electricity up my leg, and I forget how to breathe.

"Better?" he asks, his voice lower than usual.

I mean to say yes. I mean to thank him and get up and put some much-needed distance between us.

Instead, I whisper, "Don't stop."

His hands still.

Slowly, so slowly it feels like time itself has frozen, Adrian lifts his gaze to mine. The storm in his eyes makes my heart stutter—there's something raw there, something dangerous and hungry that makes my wolf want to run.

Or maybe stay very, very still.

He leans in, just slightly, and I catch the slight tremor in his breathing. His hand slides up to my knee, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

"Maya." My name falls from his lips like a warning—or a prayer.

The air between us crackles with electricity, with all the things we shouldn't want but do. With all the reasons this is a terrible idea, and all the reasons I don't care.

His face is inches from mine now. I can see the flecks of silver in his eyes, the slight stubble along his jaw, the way his pulse jumps in his throat.

Chapter 6

Adrian

I tell myself this is a mistake.

I tell myself I should stop.

But the moment Maya's scent wraps around me—wild pine and lavender, mixed with something uniquely her—I'm lost. My wolf stirs, pressing against the cage of control I've spent years perfecting. The beast wants out. Wants her.

She's too close in my office, perched on the edge of the leather couch where we've been reviewing security reports. Or maybe I'm the one who's moved, drawn to her like a moth to flame. The air between us crackles with tension, heavy with possibility. Her amber eyes flick up to mine, sharp and questioning, her lips parting like she's about to say something smart—probably another challenge to my authority.

I don't let her.

I kiss her instead.

The moment our lips meet, years of careful restraint shatter. It starts as a tentative press, a test of boundaries, but the second she responds—soft and fierce all at once—I'm gone. My hands slide into her curls, tangling in the silk of them as I pull her closer, needing more. Maya doesn't hesitate. She matches my hunger, pressing against me with a fire that makes my blood run hot.

A low growl rumbles in my chest as my wolf surges forward, instinct flooding through me like wildfire. Mine, the thought whispers, primal and unrelenting. The feeling is raw, consuming—possessive in a way I've never allowed myself to be. Her hands fist in my shirt, and I can feel the heat of her skin through the fabric, burning away what's left of my control.

I should stop. This isn't who I am anymore. I don't let people in. I don't take risks.

But I don't stop.

Maya's fingers dig into my shoulders as I press her back against the couch cushions, caging her between my arms. She gasps against my lips, and the sound nearly undoes me. Her heart pounds against my chest, matching the frantic rhythm of my own. When my teeth graze her bottom lip, she makes a sound somewhere between a whimper and a growl that sends electricity down my spine.

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