The billionaire's shy assistant, drunk, texted, "Come pick me up"—ten minutes later, the millionaire was at her doorstep... Only then did he find out why someone wanted her to leave

When Julian kissed me, the world collapsed into fire and heat.

It wasn't gentle. It was eight months of suppressed passion, late-night working sessions, and unspoken tension erupting all at once. His mouth claimed mine with a possessive, breathtaking intensity that made my knees buckle.

I gasped into his mouth, my hands flying up to wrap around his neck, burying my fingers in his thick black hair. He let out a low groan, lifting me effortlessly onto the edge of his massive executive desk, sliding his body between my thighs.

His hands were everywhere—on my waist, pulling me closer, caressing my back, sending waves of intense heat shivering through my veins.

“Nora,” he breathed against my lips, his kisses trailing down my jawline, settling on the sensitive spot beneath my ear. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

“Julian...” I whimpered, arching into his touch, my heart hammering like a war drum.

He pulled back slightly, his chest heaving, his gray eyes dark with raw hunger. He rested his forehead against mine, his thumbs tracing my cheekbones.

“I’m never letting you go back to that desk outside,” he whispered raspy. “You belong here. With me.”

Before I could answer, a sudden knock sounded at the heavy oak door.

“Mr. Cross?” Marcus’s voice called through the wood. “The press conference for the Vanguard acquisition begins in fifteen minutes.”

Julian closed his eyes, letting out a frustrated breath against my forehead. He pressed one more deep, lingering kiss to my lips before stepping back.

I sat on the desk, my hair slightly mussed, my lips swollen, my brain completely fried.

Julian picked up my glasses from the desk and gently slipped them back onto my face, his fingers lingering on my cheek.

“Fix your hair, Miss Quinn,” he said, his crooked, handsome smile returning. “We have a press conference to dominate.”