"It's not about that."
"And it would change things between us," she continues, her voice softer now. "It would make me even more... dependent. More aware of the gap between us. I can't. I won't do that."
The gap between us. She means the money, the success, the fifteen years and everything that comes with them. She's aware of it. Of course she is. How could she not be?
And that gap is exactly why I should walk out of this apartment right now. Why I should maintain professional boundaries and keep my distance and not do what every cell in my body is screaming at me to do.
But then she lets the blanket drop, and she's standing there in just that oversized t-shirt, and I'm only human.
"There's already a gap between us," I say quietly, taking a step closer. "But it's not what you think."
"Henry—"
"The gap is that I'm your employer and I shouldn't want you the way I do. The gap is that you're young and just starting your life and you deserve someone who can offer you more than a complicated single dad with a seven-year-old. The gap is that if I cross this room right now and kiss you, everything changes, and I don't know if I have the right to ask that of you."
She's staring at me with those wide hazel eyes, her lips parted, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
"What if I want things to change?" she whispers. "What if I've been lying awake every night for months thinking about you? What if I can't stop wanting you even though I know I shouldn't? What if I—" She breaks off, seeming to gather her courage. "What if I'm falling for you?"
Something in my chest cracks wide open.
"Then we're both idiots," I manage, my voice rough. "Because I fell for you months ago."
I cross the distance between us before I can talk myself out of it, before logic and responsibility can reassert themselves. I cup her face in my hands and just look at her for a moment—at her flushed cheeks, her parted lips, her eyes dark with want.
"Tell me now if you don't want this," I say quietly. "Because if I kiss you, I won't be able to stop. And I need to know you want this as much as I do."
"I want this," she breathes. "I want you. I've wanted you for so long—"
I don't let her finish. I claim her mouth with mine, and she melts against me with a soft sound that goes straight to my cock. She tastes like toothpaste and something sweet, and when her tongue slides against mine, I groan and pull her closer.
This. This is what I've been craving for months. Her soft body pressed against mine, her hands fisting in my hoodie, her little gasps and moans as I kiss her deeper, harder.
I walk her backward until her legs hit the bed, and we tumble down together. She sprawls beneath me, her hair fanning out on the pillow, and I take a moment to just look at her.
"You're so beautiful," I murmur, brushing hair from her face.
"Henry."
"Let me say it. Let me tell you how fucking beautiful you are, how crazy you make me, how many cold showers I've taken thinking about you."
She laughs breathlessly. "That makes two of us."
"Good." I lower my mouth to her neck, finding that spot below her ear that makes her gasp. "Then you won't mind if I take my time with you."
I kiss my way down her neck, her collarbone, pushing her t-shirt up as I go. When I reveal her breasts, I have to stop and justappreciate them for a moment. "Perfect," I murmur, cupping one in my hand. "You're absolutely perfect."
Before she can protest, I lower my mouth to her breast and suck her nipple between my lips. She arches off the bed with a sharp cry, her hands flying to my hair.
"Oh god!"
"That's it," I murmur against her skin. "Let me hear you."
I lavish attention on her breasts, learning what makes her gasp and what makes her moan, until she's writhing beneath me and begging for more.
"Please," she whimpers. "Henry, please—"
"Please what? Tell me what you want."
