It wasn’t a question. Not really. But the way he said it—rough, almost desperate—made it feel like one. Like I had a choice. Like he’d respect whatever I decided.
I should’ve said no. Should’ve suggested we cool off, think this through, maybe grab coffee sometime and talk about whatthis meant for the patent dispute, for our companies, for our professional reputations.
Instead, I nodded. “Okay.”
Something flared in his eyes—heat, possession, maybe even relief—and he grabbed his briefcase with one hand and reached for mine with the other. “Let’s go.”
We tried to look normal walking through Ultra Bright’s office. I smoothed my hair, Kyle straightened his jacket, and we kept a professional distance between us. But my hand was still tingling from where he’d held it, and I was hyperaware of every step he took beside me.
The elevator ride down to the parking garage was torture. We stepped in alone, and the doors had barely closed before Kyle moved closer. Not touching, but close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him.
“Avery.”
My name sounded like a prayer. Or a curse.
“Mmm?”
“If you’ve changed your mind?—”
“I haven’t.”
The elevator dinged. Third floor. The doors opened, and a woman from accounting stepped in, giving us a polite smile. Kyle and I moved to opposite corners like we were strangers, and I focused very hard on the floor numbers ticking down.
Two.
One.
Parking garage.
The doors opened, and Kyle’s hand found the small of my back, warm and possessive through the thin fabric of my blouse. He guided me toward the guest parking section, where luxury vehicles gleamed under the fluorescent lights. He stopped in front of a massive black Range Rover with windows so dark, I couldn’t see inside.
“This is you?” I asked because apparently I needed to fill the silence before I combusted.
“This is me.” He clicked the key fob, and the locks disengaged with a soft thunk.
He opened the passenger door, and I moved to climb in, but he caught my wrist, pulling me back against him. His mouth found mine again—hungrier this time, less controlled—and I melted into him, my hands sliding up his chest to his shoulders.
“Kyle,” I breathed against his lips.
“I know. Ten minutes.” He pulled back, jaw tight. “I can wait ten minutes.”
But when I looked up at him, I saw the same desperate need I was feeling reflected in his eyes.
“Can you?” I whispered.
His gaze dropped to my mouth, then lower, and I watched him wage some internal battle. Professional Kyle versus the man who’d just kissed me senseless in a conference room.
The man won.
He reached past me and opened the back door instead. “Get in.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. “Here?”
“The windows are tinted. No one can see.” His voice was rough, barely controlled. “And I really, really can’t wait ten minutes, Avery.”
I should’ve been scandalized. Should’ve insisted we go back to his penthouse like responsible adults. Instead, I climbed into the back seat, my body humming in anticipation.
The interior was all black leather and luxury, spacious enough that I didn’t feel cramped. Kyle followed me in, closing the door behind him, and suddenly the world outside disappeared. It was just us, cocooned in darkness and possibility.
