The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, and I stepped in without checking who was behind me.
Big mistake.
The moment the doors sealed shut, I caught the scent—woodsmoke and spice—and felt the pull before I even turned around.
Ethan.
D*mn it.
I slowly looked up, and there he was, hands in his pockets, jacket off, shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal those veined forearms I once kissed my way down. His tie hung loose around his collar like a noose he wore too well. His eyes met mine, calm but unreadable.
He was the storm, and I was the fool who forgot her umbrella.
“Late night?” he asked.
“Working,” I replied, forcing my gaze straight ahead. “Unlike some people who spend their days hovering in elevators.”
“I wasn’t hovering. I just knew you’d be here.”
I swallowed. “That’s cre
