“I’m sorry I took away your choice. I’m sorry I made it public when it should’ve been private.” His hand comes up, hovers near my face like he’s asking permission. “But I’m not sorry I wanted you. I’ve wanted you since the first time you told me my supply manifest was ‘aggressively inefficient.’”
A laugh startles out of me. “That was my first week.”
“I know.” His thumb brushes my cheek, feather-light. “You were wearing that blue blouse. Your hair was falling out of its bun. And you looked at me like I was the most irritating man you’d ever met.”
“Youwerethe most irritating man I’d ever met.”
“And now?”
The air between us is charged. Electric. Like the storm moved inside, crackling in the space between our bodies.
I should step back. I should remind myself of all the reasons this is a terrible idea—he’s my boss, he’s Kitty's cousin-in-law,he kissed me without asking, and I still haven’t decided if I’ve forgiven him for that.
But he just let me see him shatter. Trusted me with something he doesn’t show anyone. And when I put his hand on my heart, he held on like I was the only solid thing in his world.
Maybe I want to be that. Maybe I want to be someone’s solid thing.
Maybe I justwant.
“Now,” I say slowly, “you’re still irritating.”
His mouth curves. “But?”
“But you’re also...” I trail off, searching for words that won't come.
“Also what?”
I don’t have words for what he is. For the way he makes me feel—seen and frustrated and safe and terrified all at once. For the way my heart races when he’s near, the way my skin tingles where he touches me.
So I stop trying to find them.
I rise on my toes and press my mouth to his.
Chapter 6
Delaney
For a heartbeat, he doesn’t move.
I’ve surprised him. The man who sees everything, plans everything, controls everything—I’ve caught him off guard with my mouth on his.
Then his hand slides into my wet hair, tilts my head, and he takes over the kiss like he’s been starving for it.
This isn’t like the diner. That kiss was a brand—public, claiming, meant to send a message. This one is hungry and a little desperate and entirely ours. His tongue strokes against mine, and I make a sound I should be embarrassed about, but I’m not, because he groans in response like I’ve undone something in him.
Then he pulls back. Abrupt. Breathing hard.
“Wait.” His voice is rough. “We shouldn’t?—”
The rejection lands like a slap. Of course. Of course, this is where it ends. I start to pull away, armor slamming back into place, but his grip tightens in my hair.
“Not shouldn’t.” His jaw is tight, eyes conflicted. “I just need to know this isn’t—” He stops. Starts again. “You just talked me off a ledge. I need to know this isn’t gratitude. Or pity.”
Oh.
That’s not rejection. That’s fear.
“Daniel.” I wait until his eyes meet mine. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since you told me my filing system was ‘an affront to logic.’ That was three weeks ago. Before the diner. Before today. This isn’t pity.”
