What the hell was that?

My heart wouldn't settle. Every time I tried to steady my breath, the feeling of Zaya's lips lingered raw, intense, the kind of kiss that leaves you shaken and more than a little unhinged.

I leaned over the sink, staring at my reflection in the mirror, my mind whirling, replaying every second, every flicker of heat, over and over.

The mirror showed exactly what I'd been trying to ignore. My lips were swollen, a bit redder than usual. I tried to tame my hair, which Zaya's hands had likely ruffled, but each time I smoothed it down, my fingers trembled slightly.

My cheeks were flushed, making the aftermath of that encounter painfully visible. I'd told myself, over and over again, that Zaya was nothing but a coworker, a colleague who happened to have a sharp glare and an ability to get under my skin.

But with that kiss, every line I'd drawn between us, every reminder I'd whispered in my head, had disappeared in a haze of heat and want.