“You’re distracted?”I asked, even though I could see it in her eyes.The same desire I felt.
“Completely.”Her voice softened.“I spent all of Sunday thinking about Saturday night.”
Heat spread through me at the admission, the memory of her in my lap making my dick twitch very inappropriately considering where we were.“Yeah?”I had to work to keep my voice steady and my hands to myself.
“Yeah.”She bit her bottom lip, and I had to force myself not to stare at her mouth.“And then I came to work this morning determined to be professional and focus on the launch, and you were sitting across from me at this conference table looking at me like…”
“Like what?”I asked, stepping closer without meaning to.
“Like you wanted to do very unprofessional things.”
I didn’t bother denying it.“Would it help if I apologized?”
“Not really,” she said with a small, warm smile.“Because I was having the same unprofessional thoughts.”
We stood there, the space between us charged with everything we weren’t saying.Everything we were trying not to do.Yet the emotional undercurrent felt solid, like we were both invested in exploring this carefully.Together.
I exhaled a deep breath.“This slow thing is going to be harder than I thought,” I admitted.
“For me, too.But, I think it’s the right call.We should figure out what this is before we…you know.”She gestured vaguely, her expression a mix of amusement and sincerity.
“Jump back into my car for another make-out session?”I suggested, keeping it light, but the heated memory flashed between us.
Her cheeks flushed pink once again.“Something like that.”
“For the record,” I said quietly.“I’m very interested in figuring out what this is.”
“Good.”Her smile turned genuine, less teasing.More real.“Because so am I.”
She headed for the door and I watched her go, trying not to notice the way her skirt hugged her curves—her ass, especially.Then she was gone, leaving me standing there with a smile I couldn’t quite get rid of, along with the unsettling, impossible to ignore feeling that I was already in deeper than I’d planned.
***
The next twoweeks blurred into a steady rhythm of deadlines, strategy meetings, and long nights in the office.The charger launch was picking up speed, CES planning was in full swing—booth designs approved, demo units prepped, and travel logistics sorted for the team—and somehow, despite the chaos, things with Morgan felt easy and natural.
We hadn’t crossed any lines since that night in my car, not even a kiss, but the flirting hadn’t stopped and it felt suspiciously like…dating.I liked getting to know her piece by piece in her established environment.Learning all those small, intimate details about her, a person that I genuinely liked—what made her laugh, what fired her creativity, watching how she talked with her hands when she got excited about something.
Those light-hearted, playful moments threaded through our days.She’d roll her eyes when I triple-checked meeting times.I’d tease her about her obsession with color-coded spreadsheets.She’d pretend not to be affected when I leaned over her shoulder to look at her computer screen so she could show me one of her graphs.One morning, she’d complimented me on my tie with a sexy gleam in her eyes, and I spent the rest of the day trying not to imagine her tugging on it.
The sexual tension was there, simmering just beneath the surface of every conversation, every shared laugh, every moment our eyes met across the office or the conference table.There was something about the way she’d show up at my office door in the morning with coffee, knowing exactly how I liked it.The way we’d debate marketing strategies and product features, and how she would call me out when my ideas were too over the top and unrealistic.The way she’d stay late at night at the office just because I was working, sharing a take-out meal with me, even though she could have gone home hours ago.
It felt like we were building something between us.Laying a foundation that could actually hold weight in the real world.And I wanted that.I wanted to take her out to a romantic dinner.Wanted to walk her home and kiss her goodnight at her door.I wanted to do this the right way—slow and intentional, proving that this wasn’t just about our physical attraction, as tempting as that was.
But there was no opportunity.Between everything moving at a swift pace at GalvaTech and Simon needing my time and advice on hammering out the final details of the Stark, Inc.investment—which required endless calls, negotiations over equity shares, and due diligence that ate into every spare minute—my days were stretched impossibly thin.
But things between myself and Morgan seemed solid and all that flirty banter, the shared looks and inside jokes, was creating this delicious sexual tension that made every interaction electric, like a slow burn promising so much more once we finally let it ignite.
It was only a matter of time before it did.Because somehow, I felt myself falling deeper into whatever this was becoming between us.
Thanksgiving slipped by in the midst of it all.I spent the day with my family, the usual chaos of a turkey dinner and football and playing with my nieces.Even then, my mind kept drifting back to Morgan, wondering how her holiday went and fighting the urge to text her something flirty that might blur our self-imposed lines.
We were back in the office after the long weekend, hitting the ground running refining prototypes, getting marketing strategies locked in, and signing off on vendor contracts.The pace was relentless, but necessary.CES was approaching, the launch calendar was tight, and every department was grinding hard to make sure nothing slipped through the cracks.
Mid-week, I called Parker and Samuel into a meeting to discuss a decision I’d made.
As we settled around the conference table, I couldn’t help noticing that Parker looked ragged.His expression was pale, and he seemed quieter and more withdrawn.I could only assume that his back pain was acting up again.
“I won’t keep you two long,” I said, glancing between the two men, and got right to business.“I want to increase the budget for marketing.”
