Han's POV
Tyler's mouth was warm against my neck. Wet. Soft. His teeth grazed my skin, then his tongue flicked over it—slow, uncoordinated, tasting. My breath caught in my throat. I froze. I shouldn't have frozen. I should've shoved him off, yelled at him, something—anything. But I didn't.
Instead, my pulse skipped like a traitor.
And for a heartbeat, just one, I leaned in closer.
Then the world snapped back with a furious voice.
"What the actual fuck do you think you're doing?!" Eric's voice sliced the tension in half. In an instant, he was beside me, yanking Tyler off with a grip that was less protection and more punishment. "Are you insane?!"
Tyler stumbled back with a dazed laugh, his lips still wet. "He smells good…" he mumbled, swaying on his feet.
Eric shoved him again. "Unprofessional little shit. You're disgusting. You're not even supposed to be here!"
