“Oh,” he said. “That’s too bad.”
She shot him a look, knowing and amused. “It is.”
The first firework cracked in the distance, echoing over the river. Hillary turned toward the sound, her hand shifting on the blanket.
His fingers brushed hers.
Electric.
He froze, waiting, ready for her to pull back, to retreat behind the careful smile she wore so well.
She didn’t.
Instead, she threaded her fingers through his and gave a small, steady squeeze. Then she leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Murphy’s breath caught.
Slowly, reverently, he wrapped his arm around her, drawing her in until she fit against him perfectly. Like this was where she’d always been meant to be.
Fireworks bloomed overhead—white and gold and impossibly bright—but he barely saw them.
All he could feel was Hillary in his arms. The weight of her head against his shoulder. The warmth of her body pressed into his side. The quiet certainty of the moment.
This.
This was perfection.
After the finale, she looked up into his eyes. Every fiber of him pulsed, don’t fuck this up.
When she said, “Do you want to come over for a drink?”
“Yeah, I’d like that.” He said it as calmly as possible, biting the grin that wanted to spread across his face.
“One more night. That’s it.”
“That works for me,” he said as he leaned in and pressed a small kiss to her lips. She tasted like strawberries and raspberry tea as a cool summer evening breeze enveloped them. It was everything.
He would not ruin his second chance with the fascinating woman.
7
HILLARY
FALL ~ TWO MONTHS LATER
"Oh, fuck," Hillary moaned. "How are you so good at this?"
His lips kissed her neck as his nimble finger slid under her panties.
"You're already wet," he said as he slid a finger into her soft, wet heat. With his other hand he swiped some things off her desk before pushing her back and spreading her legs wider, then circling her clit.
Her hand speared into his soft brown hair as he sucked on her neck.
Then suddenly there was a knock at her door. "Hillary? Can we talk?"
Without thinking, Hillary shoved him down under her desk, straightening her skirt and paperwork, and plopped down into her office chair and opened her computer.
"Come in," she said as she smoothed her hair.
