She doesn’t move.
Neither do I.
Cue my cock. Insta-hard.
Again.
This is a bad idea.
This is a terrible idea.
Step back.
Now.
Instead I hear myself say, “Last night. That wasn’t easy.”
“No,” she agrees quietly. “It wasn’t.”
“But we did it.”
“We did it,” she echoes.
The words hang between us like a challenge. Like the thinnest possible line between what we want and what we’re choosing.
“Tonight will be easier,” I tell her. Even though I don’t believe it. Even though my hard cock aches in my jeans. “We have a system now.”
“A system.” Her mouth quirks. “Very you.”
“Fuck off.” But there’s no heat in it.
She actually smiles. And for half a second the weight lifts and it’s just us. Two people trying to do right by a kid who deserves better than the chaos we keep almost creating.
Then Ben’s voice carries up from the library. “Jess? Frederick needs help with his worksheet.”
The moment breaks. My cock deflates.
“Duty calls,” Jess says lightly. Moves past me to grab the notebook. “See you at dinner?”
“Yeah. Dinner.” I smile wistfully.
She retrieves the book and disappears down the stairs.
I stand in the hallway staring at her open door, thinking about the seventy-two hours stretching out like a minefield I have to cross without detonating anything.
You can do this.
You’ve run Michelin kitchens.
You’ve built a restaurant group from nothing.
You can handle three days in close quarters with a woman you want but can’t have.
My phone buzzes. Luis in the security chat:Perimeter check complete. All clear inside. Street count unchanged.
I text back:Copy. Holding in-house posture.
Then I head downstairs to do the only thing I know how to do when everything’s spinning out of control.
