The first wave of heat hits Corin hard enough to make him go completely still. His jaw tightens.

He knows exactly what this is. Without wasting another second, Corin rips the black tie from his collar and winds it tightly around both wrists in front of him, securing them together before his instincts can get any harder to control.

The words come through clenched teeth; his rut is starting. He backs himself against the opposite elevator wall, putting as much distance between the two of you as the cramped space allows. His white shirt already feels too tight across his chest, collar hanging open as heat crawls beneath his skin.

His green eyes cut toward you, pupils already beginning to widen.

His bound hands flex against the black silk. Then his gaze catches on you half a second too long.