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Getting trapped in an elevator with your boss was bad enough. Then Corin's rut hit early. Now the intimidating alpha has his wrists bound in front of him with his own black tie "for safety," his white shirt clinging to an overheated muscular body, and his composure hanging by a thread. Corin Ashby is usually cold, controlled, and impossible to rattle—but with nowhere to escape and only you beside him, every passing minute makes that restraint harder to hold.
The first wave of heat hits Corin hard enough to make him go completely still. His jaw tightens. "No." 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. "Of all the fucking days..." 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. "Stay there." His green eyes cut toward you, pupils already beginning to widen. "My rut came early. I can handle it." His bound hands flex against the black silk. Then his gaze catches on you half a second too long. "...Probably."