I looked up at him and tugged at his belt. "My turn."
Jason braced one hand on the desk behind him. I freed him. I started slow, licking along the underside. Then I took him into my mouth inch by inch. My hand wrapped the base, stroking in time with my lips. His other hand threaded into my hair. He held on. His breathing turned ragged. His hips jerked once. Twice. He groaned my name like a warning.
I pulled back just before he finished. My lips felt swollen. My eyes burned with want. I stood, turned, and bent forward over the desk. My palms flattened among the scattered papers. I glanced back over my shoulder.
Jason stepped close. His hands settled on my hips. They felt tentative for one heartbeat. Then firmer when I pushed back against him. He reached into his pocket, tearing open a condom packet with shaking fingers. He rolled it on.
He entered me slow. One careful inch at a time. I adjusted to the stretch, exhaling on a long, shaky moan. When he seated himself fully, I rocked back, urging him deeper.
That broke his last restraint.
He gripped the desk edge. Slow thrusts at first. Then harder. Faster. He matched the rhythm I set with every backward push. The desk groaned under us. Papers slid to the floor. The brass lighthouse rolled to the corner. Our breath filled the tiny room.
I reached back. I found his hand. I laced our fingers over my hip. Jason leaned forward. His chest pressed against my back. His lips brushed my ear.
"God, I've missed you," he rasped.
I answered with a broken laugh that turned into a moan when he drove deeper.
I came first. My body clenched hard around him. He followed a few thrusts later. His hips stuttered. He buried himself deep with a low, guttural sound.
We stayed like that for several long seconds. Just breathing. Hearts pounding. The desk creaked faintly beneath our weight.
Jason eased out. He disposed of the condom in the trash can under the desk. He helped me straighten. We fumbled clothes back into place. I smoothed his hair. He brushed his thumb across my flushed cheek.
I leaned into his arms. My forehead rested against his chest. His heartbeat thudded steadily under my ear. For a moment, neither of us spoke.
I pulled back just enough to look up at him. “Does this change anything?”
Jason met my eyes. His expression stayed even. “No,” he said. “It doesn’t.”
I nodded once. “Good.” I forced a small smile. “You know it’s good to get it out of our system. Especially since we need to pretend we’re in a fake relationship for your aunt anyway.”
I heard myself talk and wondered who I was trying to convince. Him? Me?
No. This was just sex, not a promise. Chemistry, not destiny. Still, part of me wanted to stay right there and let him choose me without a plan or a reason.
“Yeah,” he said. “Sure. Whatever.” His voice sounded flat. A shadow crossed his face. Disappointment maybe. Or hurt.He covered it with a quick half-smile and a shrug. “We’re professionals.”
“Right.” I stepped back. I tucked my shirt in properly. “So maybe we don’t do this again. Keep it a little more… professional from here on out.”
He nodded. “Yeah. Professional.”
We stood there another beat. The brass lighthouse paperweight lay on its side in the corner. It still smiled up at us like it knew something we didn’t.
JASON
Afew days later, Aunt Ophelia pulled up to the diner just before noon in her gray sedan. The sight of it twisted my stomach like I’d swallowed a handful of thumbtacks. She parked straight, turned off the engine, and stepped out with purpose. Clean linen blazer. Practical shoes. A small tin in her hand, wrapped in wax paper.
I stood behind the counter, stiff as a fence post. Rolled my shoulders once. Twice. Didn’t help. I adjusted the napkin dispensers. Then adjusted them again.
Emily caught me in the act. “You need to breathe,” she said.
“I’ll breathe when she leaves.”
We had prepped all morning. Notes scattered across the prep counter like war plans. We had practiced our story until it came out smooth. High school sweethearts. Time apart. Reconnected when she moved back. Not too cute. Not too tragic. Believable. That was the goal.
The bell rang.
