I went still. The quiet stretched thin. Then I typed—
Is your boss challenging?
Actually, no. Strict, in love with his rules, sure. But you can tell he cares about his work.
About you,I wanted to type. Not work.About every breath you take in this damn building.
And what about you? What do you care about?
Honestly, I’m still trying to figure that one out.
I paused, my thumb hovering over the screen. No more games, not right now.
I slid my chair back, stood, and pressed the intercom.
My voice came out smooth, calm. Dangerous only if you knew what to listen for.
“Harper, can you come here?”
Her head jerked up, startled.
She swallowed, cheeks flushing as she nodded quickly, gathering her phone and notebook like this is just another routine meeting. Like I was not the man who made her moan and cry out in pleasure as her face was pressed into my couch.
She entered a moment later, stepping into my space with that same unsure boldness she wore that night.
“Close the door.”
It shut with a softclick.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
I didn’t answer right away. Instead, I took a slow step forward. Then another.
She stayed where she was. Brave little flower.
Stopping just short of touching her, eyes locked on hers, I watched as they flickered with recognition. With need.
“Well, what do you think?”
Her eyebrows furrowed as she canted her head to the side.
“About?”
The corners of my mouth lifted. “Your company’s new scent. I am wearing it. What is it missing?”
Understanding flashed across her face as her eyes found mind. Her lashes lowered, she stepped closer. Close enough that the hem of her skirt brushed my pant leg.
“May I?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
I nodded once. Just once. Anything more and I might have forgotten how to breathe.
Tilting her face toward me, her nose brushed along the line of my jaw—not fully touching, just hovering—before she drew in a breath. Slow. Measured. Lethal.
Her eyes fluttered shut as the scent registered. “It’s different,” she said slowly, thoughtfully. “Less sharp. More… grounded. Warm.”
“Is that a good thing?” I asked, watching the subtle movement of her lips as she spoke.
“I think so.” Her brow furrowed as she thought it through, stepping into that place where instinct meets intellect. “It’s masculine, obviously, but not aggressive. There’s a softness underneath it—like earth and smoke and something slightly sweet… maybe vanilla?” She tilted her head in consideration. “But then there’s something colder under all that. Not unpleasant. Just… far off. Like you’re standing in a warm room, but you haven’t taken your coat off yet.”
