“I know. So am I, and I’m glad we cleared the air. And for what it’s worth, I believe you when you say you don’t want to step back.”
Her belief settled something vital inside me, a shaky foundation finding solid ground. But the tightness in her posture still told me she’d seen that moment of hesitation, that fleeting consideration of an easier path. I’d offeredreassurance, and she’d accepted it, but I knew the memory of my uncertainty lingered between us. I needed to show her, not just tell her. I stepped closer, releasing her hand only to cup her cheek, my thumb brushing softly against her skin.
“Good,” I murmured. “Because stepping back isn’t an option.”
I leaned down, intending a simple, sealing kiss. But the moment her yielding lips met mine, something sparked—a release of the tension we’d both been holding, a flare of the connection we’d almost let slip. Her hands came up to grip my shirt, pulling me closer as if she needed the physical proof that I wasn’t pulling away. The kiss deepened instantly, moving from tender reassurance to something raw and demanding.
I groaned against her mouth, backing her gently against the edge of her sturdy desk. My hands slid down her back, learning the curve of her waist again, pulling her hips flush against mine. The friction ignited a fire low in my abdomen. I was hard in an instant, pressing against her, needing her to feel the undeniable truth of how much I wanted this, wantedher.
Harper let out a low, wrenching moan against my lips as I ground against her, a sound of pure need. Her fingers gripped my hair, holding me fast as the kiss plunged deeper, tongues tangling, panting breath mingling. The deadlines and disasters receded into a dull roar behind the rush of blood in my ears. We were lost in it, the raw urgency overriding doubt, reclaiming the space between us with desperate intensity.
An insistent text tone against my thigh shattered the moment. We wrenched apart, breathing heavily, eyes wide.
I cursed under my breath, fumbling for my phone asHarper smoothed down her shirt, color high on her cheeks, her lips swollen and kiss-bruised.
I scrubbed a hand over my face as I glanced at the caller ID. Marcus. The Franson job. Reality slammed back in. “Shit. I’ve got to go.”
Harper let out a shaky laugh, glancing pointedly at the desk we were pressed against, then back at me. “Well, at least your phone saved us from another potential desk escapade. My back barely survived the last one.”
A wry grin touched my lips despite the interruption. “My desk misses you. At least we’re not in a closet this time.” The reality of the call pulled me back.
“Hey, it’s okay.” Harper’s voice had regained its steadiness, though her eyes still held the echo of our interrupted passion.
I pocketed my phone again and stroked a hand down her arm. “I can get tunnel vision when I’m knee deep in a project. It’s maybe not my most attractive quality… but it’s part of what makes me good at what I do.”
Her smile steadied. “And I can get a little impatient when I’m overwhelmed. We both have our less attractive sides. And you’re very good at what you do. I see the evidence of that every day. And night.”
I barked a laugh, more relieved now. “We’re good together.”
“Yes, we are.” She gave me a brisk pat on my chest before releasing me. “Go handle what you need to handle.”
The echo of her words from yesterday wasn’t lost on me, but this time they carried a different tone—supportive, with maybe a touch of shared exasperation at the timing.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I promised as I stepped forward. “Six?”
She nodded, but that gleam stayed in her eye. “Don’tbe late—Finn gets cranky if he has to wait too long for dinner.”
“I’ll be there,” I said with conviction and leaned down to give her a quick but thorough kiss. “Even if I have to walk away from a burning building.”
Her laugh followed me into the hallway, a warm sound that eased some of the lingering tension in my lower back. We’d found our way back to solid ground, or at least the appearance of it. But as I returned Marcus’s call, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between us—a new awareness of just how complicated the path forward might be. Had that kiss been me trying to convince her or myself?
The immediate crisis had passed, vulnerability offered, accepted, and sealed with fire. Yet Harper had seen my doubt, and I knew that kiss, however powerful, couldn’t erase it completely. The fragility of what we were building remained, requiring more than just passion to sustain it.
As I strode through the lobby toward the resort entrance, one thought crystallized with absolute clarity—I didn’t want to back away from Harper Coleridge. That kiss proved it more than any apology could. But wanting something and managing to keep it were two very different challenges, and I’d never been good at failing gracefully.
