“And?”
“Haven’t you been up since six?”
I sigh and rub my temples. “It’s the first time all week I’ve felt like I could concentrate on my work,” I admit. “We’ve only got three more days to prep.”
Seth presses his lips together. “Oh? Is having an assistant making it harder? If Sierra isn’t working out—”
“It’s not her. She’s wonderful.”
As an employee, she’s fantastic. But employees don’t read erotic poetry together, not without HR dropping an anvil on them. They don’t live in the same house, cook and eat meals together, laugh over the same TV shows. Share a sexual history.
“She’s great at her job,” I say firmly.
Seth raises his hands in mock surrender. My delivery must have sounded more forceful than I intended. “Then how’s closure coming along?” he asks. “Mom keeps asking me for updates.”
“I just…” I hesitate, searching for a way to describe it that won’t betray my real feelings. Not that I can even parse out my real feelings.
In theory, everything is fine. It’s almost too fine—how well we work together, how easily our old dynamic seems to have slid satisfyingly back into place. It feels comfortable and new all at once.
And that’s the problem. I hate to say that Seth is right, but achieving closure seems…impossible. Not only because it’s an intense subject, but because I’m distracted by how good it feels just to be with Sierra.
And, well, it’sSierra.
I thought my obsession with her before was because I was a horny teenager, but now, as an adult, I can see that it’s more than that. She has incredible sexual energy, exuding it so naturally, I don’t think she even realizes it. I find my eyes on her too often, my focus drifting, my discipline crumbling. I’m behind on planning the Blackstone Legacy poetry event, and a part of me doesn’t care. But I have to care. If I lose control, then I lose everything.
“There’s just too much to do,” I say.
“What? When Ethan asked you about it during our meeting yesterday, you said you had it handled. If you don’t, bro, you gotta tell us.”
“No, it’s just…it has to be perfect.”
“What needs to be perfect?”
The sound of her voice hits me before I even turn my head toward it. Sweet with a hint of smoke. Sierra stands in the doorway—flushed and glowing from her workout, wearing short Lycra shorts and an orange sports bra.
It’s perfectly normal gym wear. I tell myself that as my eyes skim over the smooth, bare skin of her trim waist. My focus disintegrates. What were we talking about?
I look down at my laptop in despair. “Everythinghas to be perfect,” I finally say when both of them keep staring at me.
“You need to lighten up, sir,” Sierra says playfully.
I try not to react to Sierra calling mesiras theword lands like a spark at the top of my spine and sizzles all the way down. Breathing in is easy. Breathing out takes a little more effort.
“It’s true,” Seth chimes in. “I’ve been saying that for years. He’s gotten too serious.”
“Some people would call it driven.” Inhale. Exhale.
“Yeah, some people, meaning Mom.”
Sierra drops down next to me on the couch, the cushion dipping just enough to tilt me toward her. I resist the urge to let gravity pull me against her.
“Yes, yes, you’re such a hardworking, dedicated beast. We lesser mortals can’t do anything but cower in the presence of your go-getter glory.”
I smile despite myself. She always saw me as more than I was, and that at least hasn’t changed. She used to tease me, compare me to a knight in shining armor riding into battle to save her when I picked her up from her house, or shielded her from the gossip at school, or accompanied her on her insanely dangerous adventures. She didn’t trust easily, and I felt possessively proud that she chose me to be her champion.
And then I threw it all away in a stupid power move.
“But even overachieving gods need a break. So let’s do something that’s not work or boring adulting stuff,” she continues. “God, I’d even be willing to play a round of Monopoly at this point!” She pokes my side, and it takes everything I have not to catch her hand, hold it there.
