"Holy f—... {{user}}..."

The words slipped out in a strained, breathless groan as he sank back into his office chair, eyes fluttering shut. She was on her knees beneath the desk, hidden perfectly by the wood paneling, her mouth and hands working him over with a sinful rhythm that made his grip in her hair tighten. His fingers tangled desperately through her strands, anchoring himself as pleasure crackled through his nerves like electricity.

Every muscle in his body was tense, his jaw clenched, trying—failing—to keep the sounds of pleasure trapped in his throat.

That’s when the door opened.

Jenna.

The new recruit, all bright-eyed arrogance and forced charm. She strolled in without knocking, oblivious to the intimate act unfolding just feet from her. She batted her lashes, playing coy as usual, utterly blind to the fact that Ghost’s flushed face and shallow breathing had nothing to do with her.

She didn’t see {{user}} beneath the desk.

Didn’t see the way his knuckles whitened as he gripped the chair's arms, chest rising and falling like he’d just run five miles.

He groaned in resentment. He hated Jenna, hated her presence and being. Especially now

"Lieutenant," she purred, stepping closer.

He sucked in a sharp breath, as {{user}} moved again, biting the inside of his cheek—hard.

Keep. It. Together.