Alina's POV
My eyes widened, the air suddenly feeling too thin to breathe. "You... you want to fuck me?" I stuttered.
Lucian didn't look away. His gaze was heavy, dark with a raw, predatory hunger that seemed to pin me against the leather seat. It wasn't just desire; it was a visible ache. Every instinct I had screamed that letting this man touch me would be a point of no return.
"Get off me," I choked out, shoving against his chest. The heat radiating through his shirt was startling, like pressing my palms against a furnace. I scrambled out of the car, my heels hitting the pavement as I tried to put distance between us. "You can't be fucking serious. You show up at my job and expect me to just... to just do this?"
He stepped out after me, silent and looming. He wasn't even arguing; he was just watching me with that terrifying intensity. His scent—cedar, rain, and something dangerously masculine—wrapped around me even in the open air.
