“So,” he says, lingering as I unlock the door. “When can I see you again?”
“I see you every day, Nash,” I joke.
“Maybe I need to be more specific,” he says, stepping closer and lowering his voice almost to a growl. “When can I see you again where I’m allowed to touch you the way I know you want me to?”
I hesitate, the thrill of his suggestion colliding with the reminder of what I’m risking.
“Nash, I really want to, but with this new case—Just let me get through the next few weeks before I say yes to anything,” I tell him, my voice faltering between reluctance and desire.
He nods, a glimmer in his eye that suggests he’s already planning our next date. “Okay,” he says, the word filled with all the patience he doesn’t have. “But I’m holding you to that.”
“Wouldn’t expect anything less from you,” I say, sliding into the driver’s seat, the familiarity of the car grounding me as I pull out of the lot, Nash shrinking in the rearview.
Chapter 11
We spend the next few weeks buried in work. Nash is right by my side, pulling long hours with me. We’re making progress, and each day we get closer to trial, the energy between us is even more charged.
I should have known better than to think we could keep our hands off each other.
We’ve been careful, never letting things go too far. But the tension is there, simmering beneath every touch. Every glance.
We’ve managed to keep it mostly under control.
Mostly.
If anything, sneaking around has just made things that much more exciting. The thrill of knowing we shouldn’t be doing any of it, and that anyone could catch us.
Like the time he cornered me in the file room, the door not quite closed behind us. His hands were everywhere, his mouth hot and insistent until we heard voices approaching and had topull apart, breathless and laughing, pretending to be organizing the mess of papers between us.
Or the time he held my gaze across the conference table, his eyes dark and promising, until I was shifting in my seat, unable to focus while he scribbled notes on a legal pad, knowing exactly what he was doing to me.
Keeping this a secret has been getting more difficult, but I’m doing my best to keep my wits about me, keep my panties on in the office, and more importantly, keep my job.
It’s late one night when he finally pushes me against my office door, his body warm against mine. He picks me up and I wrap my legs around him, my hands finding his hair, pulling him closer.
The kiss is fierce, weeks of restraint unraveling in an instant. Our breaths mingle, and I forget everything except the need to feel him.
His hands roam, and I know we should stop. I know the risks, but I can’t bring myself to care.
“This is insane,” I say, pulling away just enough to catch my breath. “We shouldn’t.”
Nash grins, playful and smug. “But you want to.” He leans in, his lips brushing my neck, and I shiver.
“God, yes. But we have to be careful,” I remind him.
He pauses, pulling back just enough to meet my eyes.
“I’ve been careful. I haven’t touched you in weeks, Avery. Not the way I want to. And it’s not enough. I need all of you. I’m losing my mind here.”
I look at him, seeing the truth of his words.
“I know. Me too,” I say gently.
“Come home with me,” he says, his voice needy. “Please.”
The word ‘please’ undoes me.
I hesitate, thinking about what this means, how much further we’re letting this go.
