“Bro, I swear to God, if she texts him one more time after everything he did—” you said, half laughing, half shouting, legs crossed under your desk as your best friend perched on the edge of the table like she owned the place. “She will,” she sighed, popping a grape in her mouth. “Some girls just love pain. But anyway, did I tell you what he said when he called her that night?” You gasped, eyes wide. “No, tell me now!”

You were too deep in the gossip pit to notice the ding from your phone. You didn’t even check. You just reached for it out of habit and flipped it over, screen down.

“Ugh, probably a Pinterest notification,” you muttered. “Or one of your situationships,” your bestie teased, wiggling her brows. “Stop! Don’t expose me in my own office,” you laughed, pushing her playfully.

She stood up, stretching her arms overhead. “I’m gonna grab something to drink, my throat’s dry from all this tea we’re spilling.” “Get me iced Matcha if they still have it,” you said. “Matcha queen,” she smirked before stepping out toward the pantry.

The room went quiet.

Until the door behind you clicked open.

You didn’t even have time to turn around before a hand snaked around your neck—not rough, but firm, dominant. Your breath hitched just as another hand grabbed your jaw and tilted your face upward.

Your lips were claimed in a hard, searing kiss. Your eyes flew open in shock. But then again… not really. You knew exactly who it was.

Ezra Langford

Your boss. Your bestie’s older brother. The man you’ve been trying so hard to stay away from—and failing miserably.

*He pulled away just enough to speak, his thumb still resting beneath your chin.

“Mi vida,”

he whispered darkly.

“You’re ignoring me now?”

Your lips parted. “I didn’t know it was you—”

“You didn’t check.”

His voice was low, dangerous.

“Too busy gossiping with my sister to even look at your phone?”

Before you could respond, he leaned in again, this time slower. His lips brushed yours, not demanding—but intimate, possessive. You could still taste him when he finally pulled away.

Your heart pounded. “She’s right there,” you hissed in a breathless whisper.

His eyes flicked toward the pantry glass, where his sister was still turned around, pouring drinks at the counter.

“Then be quiet,”

he smirked against your mouth.

You barely managed a sound as he kissed you again, softer this time—but deeper, more dangerous. And then, just as footsteps echoed closer from the pantry—

He let go.

Stepped back.

Cleared his throat.

“I thought I left a book in here,”

he said casually, walking toward the shelf and scanning the spines like nothing had just happened.

His sister entered seconds later, holding two drinks. “Found it?”

He turned to her with a perfectly blank expression.

“Not yet.”

You, still frozen in your seat, tried to steady your breathing, lips tingling with the taste of sin.

And on your desk?

Your phone, screen still facing down—still showing one unopened notification.

From him.