My chest heaved with the effort of breathing around a man who sucked all the oxygen from the room. Closet. Whatever.
“You wanted professional,” I reminded him.
“No. I wanted you. But professional felt safer. Less risky.”
“Risky for who? You or me?”
“Both of us. I will hurt you, Aspen. I won’t mean to, but it’ll happen.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.” His sigh filled the space around me. “I’m bad news.”
“But wrapped in such a pretty package.”
“Aspen,” he growled. “I’m being serious.”
“Joz, I’m a big girl, capable of deciding what or who I want.”
“Your email made it sound like you wanted nothing to do with me.”
I winced, glad it was too dark for him to see the blush creep over my cheeks. “You hurt me by walking out. I hit back.”
“You hit hard.”
“You didn’t reply.”
“What was there to say?”
“Ouch.”
His hand clasped my hip, and he tugged me close again. “Aspen, shut up.” He kissed me again, his lips moving in perfect synchronicity with my own. I shoved my hands into his hair, anchoring them there. When I finally pulled back, it wasn’t because I wanted to. It was because if I didn’t, we weren’tstopping at a kiss. And I was not fucking Joz Raynor for the first time in a closet that smelled of damp mops and bleach.
“I should get back. Presley’s next door. I want to be there to support him.”
He kissed the top of my head. “And I need to get back to work, too. I have this boss who is so fucking demanding.”
I chuckled. “You don’t know the half of it.”
“No, but I’m going to find out.”
“You’re awfully sure of yourself.”
He rested his forehead against mine. “Come to dinner with me tonight.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
He kissed me again, but it was all too brief. We opened the door right as Presley was walking by devouring a bar of chocolate. His brows rose, and something flickered in his expression, but it vanished before I could get a bead on it. Amusement, probably. It wasn’t hard to figure out what we’d been doing in there.
“Don’t mind me. I’m just grabbing a snack.” He disappeared into Studio A, and the door slammed. I’m sure he never meant to slam it. Probably slipped out of his hands.
I grimaced. “Ah, fuck.”
“Ignore him.” Joz grinned. “We’re over eighteen.”
“In your case, well over.”
“Ooh, harsh, Ms. Kingcaid.” He slapped my ass. “Better get back to it. Text me your address. I’ll pick you up at eight.”
