So,this vulnerable version needed to go away before it completely slayed me.
“Maybe,”he admitted. “But maybe not so crazy either.”
Ibraved those brown eyes, dark with the secrets of what we just did. “What doyou mean?”
Hisarms tightened around my waist. “I mean… it feels inevitable. I know things arecomplicated since I’m your boss, but it had to happen eventually, right?”
Maybesleep deprivation had broken his brain. None of his words were making anysense. “Why eventually?”
Heglanced at the ceiling, already getting frustrated with me. I nearly smiled athow quickly the bliss of kissing wore off. We would be back to bickering in notime.
“Idon’t understand why you keep saying that. What had to happen eventually?”
Hissigh was frustrated and annoyed. I tried to suppress a victorious smile. “Thisgoddamn tension between us, Kaya. It’s been building and building and building.Eventually it was going to come to a head.”
Iglared at him, irrationally angry that he was downplaying what happened here. Iknew it made no sense. I was the one trying to convince him that nothingsignificant had transpired between us. But I was a female and therefore allowedto be fickle at least once a day. “That’s what you think this was? Sexualtension coming to a head?”
Hisrumbly chuckle chased another shiver down my spine. “No, this was more like acompression leak.” His hands moved down my hips, to the backs of my thighswhere he gripped me beneath my ass. He tugged me toward him and I had to grasphis shoulders for balance. “We haven’t even begun to release the realpressure.”
Ilaughed, even though inwardly I was freaking out. “Wyatt, we’re not doing thisagain.” A slow smile spread across his mouth. I pushed at his shoulders, buteven I had to admit I barely put any effort into the protest. “Wyatt, I’mserious,” I insisted. “This was a mistake. We’re smart enough to know not torepeat our mistakes.”
“Youkissed me,” he said, totally catching me off guard.
“What?”
“Tonight.Right now.” His eyebrows jumped, insisting that he was telling the truth. “Iwasn’t going to kiss you, but you practically threw yourself at me.”
“You’reblaming this on me?” I was too shocked to be pissed. Although I knew that wouldcome later. Right after the shame and embarrassment.
Ormaybe before.
Itwas hard to tell at this point. There were too many emotions clamoring forfirst place.
Hishead cocked back and his hold on my waist went slack. “I wasn’t blaming you,”he said. “I was… crediting you.” His eyes flashed with something that lookedtoo much like hope and I wanted to take back my words and swallow them just toerase that look on his face.
ButI couldn’t. I was too worked up, too out of my depth. As much as I liked topretend I loved spontaneity, what I really loved was predictability and obviousness.I hated change. And I hated not knowing what happened next.
Thatwas one of the reasons I loved cooking so much. I knew what would happen. I hadthe variables calculated and my processes in place. If I cooked a specific sizeprotein for a certain number of minutes, it would turn out exactly how I wantedit to. If I used x amount of spice with x amount of other spice, I would get avery consistent flavor profile.
Sure,there was some change and I couldn’t predict the future no matter how hard Itried. But for the most part, I could get pretty damn close.
Andthat was important to me.
I’drun from a past that had been way too predictable, but I hadn’t left that girlbehind completely. She still lurked inside me, a shadow of a past I desperatelywanted to forget. But I couldn’t. And I couldn’t completely forget the girl Iused to be either.
“Idon’t want the credit,” I told Wyatt. My eyelids slammed shut, hiding the shamefor my cruel words. I took a step back and Wyatt let me go.
Hewas going to be pissed. The man did not handle rejection well. I knew this fromworking with him. This would wound his pride, chip away at his testosterone.He’d hate me forever now.
So,I drove the nail into the coffin and let go of this delicious, wonderful,totally unexpected moment of insanity. It was better this way. “I don’t want you.”
Onlyhis smile turned genuine again. His eyes twinkled and darkened, beckoning allat once. His hands rested on his desk, his fingers curling around the edges. Hestretched his body back all cocky arrogance and self-satisfied man. “Liar,” hetaunted.
“Excuseme?”
“You’rea dirty liar, Swift. You fucking want me.”
Red.I went red. From head to toe, including my vision. “I don’t want you.” Istepped forward and pointed a finger directly in his face. “I seriously don’twant you.”
