I glance at him.
His jaw is tight with tension that has nothing to do with desire now.
I should leave. Go back to my villa, take a long shower, pretend this was just physical release and nothing more.
But instead I hear myself ask, “What now?”
He studies me uncertainly. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, what about professional boundaries? We just completely obliterated them. Again. Are we going to pretend this didn’t happen? Go back to careful distance tomorrow morning?”
Corin is quiet for a long moment. Then he crosses the small space between us, cups my face in both hands.
“The only boundary,” he says, his voice low and fierce, “is that you share my bed each night. I don’t care anymore about the rest. You’re mine.”
My heart does this fluttery thing.
“Good,” I whisper.
He kisses me. Soft this time. Tender in a way that makes my throat tight.
When we break apart, I add, “But I’m still worried this is going to come back to bite us somehow.”
“It might,” he admits. “Xavier is still out there. The foundation situation is still unresolved. There are about forty ways this could blow up in our faces.”
“So comforting.”
His mouth quirks. Almost a smile. “But I’m done pretending I can protect you by keeping you at arm’s length. If this is going to blow up, we face it together.”
He’s echoing the words I told him before our last argument. The words that sent us spiraling apart.
“Do you mean it for real this time?” I ask.
“I do.”
“Okay,” I say. “Together. And... what happens when the pilot extension expires?”
“Then I renew,” he says. “Indefinitely.”
I purse my lips. “Until we work out something better, at some point.”
“Agreed.”
We gather our things, I grab my legal pad and tote. Corin unlocks the door, and we step out into the main clinic area. It’s dark except for the security lights Marisol leaves on overnight.
Through the window, I see headlights in the parking lot. Keon, probably, waiting to drive Corin back. My rental car is parked on the other side of the lot. I should go to my own villa. Sleep in my own bed. Maintain some semblance of professional boundaries, even if we just shredded them on his desk.
Corin’s hand finds mine as we walk to the door.
I don’t pull away.
When we step outside, he doesn’t head toward the SUV. Instead, he stops, turning to face me.
“Come home with me,” he says quietly.
My heart skips a beat. “Corin—”
“You agreed to share my bed.” His thumb traces across my knuckles. “Might as well start tonight.”
