I blinked. “At all?”
“I tried it your way.” He adjusted in his seat. “That stuck.”
My stomach sank as the meaning landed. “You mean you’ve just had hookups?”
He nodded, rubbing his knuckles under his nose. “Yeah.”
“That’s… not good,” I finished lamely.
Ethan’s brows knit. “Why? You can do it, but I can’t?” His tone edged sharper, the kind I knew could turn into an argument in seconds.
“Because it isn’t like you.Youtold me that.”
His eyes held mine. “It’s been years, Ash. You don’t know me anymore.”
A knife to the chest would’ve been kinder. “Do you really believe that?” The words came out soft, almost hushed.
His jaw ticked. A couple of tense seconds stretched between us before his lips twisted—down first, then into a small smile. “Maybe.” His eyes flicked to my empty glass. “Another one?”
“Sure.” God knew I could use it after the blow he’d just delivered.
He grabbed both glasses and moved to the bar, pouring refills. He didn’t sit, though—he came around my desk, handed me mine, and leaned back against the edge with his ankles crossed, casual and tempting as sin.
“So, Boss?—”
“Marcela is your boss,” I corrected.
He smiled like he enjoyed that. “Why don’t we set some boundaries? So we don’t get called into HR again and you don’t get into trouble. You and I were always shit at being friends. We might as well try, right?”
Something about the look in his eyes—the heat simmering right behind it—started raising the temperature in the room. That and him sitting there like he owned my desk. It did things to me it really shouldn’t have.
Okay, I’ll bite.
I took a sip of my drink. “Like what?”
“First one—look, don’t touch.”
My lips twitched into a smirk. “Wait… what exactly counts as touching?”
He rolled his eyes, but the smile decorating his mouth gave him away. “Just platonic stuff. Nothing with intent.”
I couldn’t help myself. “Intent to what?”
“Fuck off, Sebastian.” His face was flushed in the prettiest way while one of his rings tapped against the glass in his hand. “Your turn.”
I rocked my chair back. “We only see each other in public. No hanging out at each other’s apartments.”
“Fair,” he said, then added, “No calls or texts after midnight.”
I ran my tongue along my canine, trying to figure out his angle. “What about flirting?”
He grinned. “That’s a tricky one.”
That’s what I thought.“How about nothing we couldn’t say in front of Henny?”
He laughed. “Sure.” Then he lifted a hand to run his fingers through his hair, the light catching every golden strand. It was fucking mesmerizing.
I leaned forward, elbow on the desk. “How platonic is hair touching?”
