Clara’s POV
His chest rose beneath mine with every breath, slow and steady like he had all the time in the world. My hands were braced on either side of his shoulders, fingers curled into the firm muscle under his shirt. His body was hard. Solid. Way too warm.
And I was still straddling his lap.
I didn’t move. Couldn’t. The fall had knocked the breath out of me, but his eyes—those gleaming, dangerous gold eyes—held me in place more than anything else.
“You gonna let go of that folder,” he said, his voice low, rough silk, “or are you planning to keep pretending you came here for business?”
The folder was still clutched between us, mashed awkwardly to his chest. I hadn’t even realized I was still holding it.
“I—” I opened my mouth, but the words tangled in my throat. My skin was flushe
