“You want to talk about torture? Let’s talk about this naughty cowgirl getup you’ve been prancing around in all night.”
“Prancing?”I start giggling.
“For a guy from Texas, it may as well be a French maid’s costume.”
I’m dragging my feet as he leads me into my building by the hand.
“Come on now, I’m walking you to your door. And spoiler alert, you’re getting a goodnight kiss.”
I can’t let it go. “So what exactly is it you need me to do at work? Put out a press release announcing we’re dating? Let you throw me up against the window and have your way with me?”
He grimaces and adjusts his pants. “We need to not be hiding in bathrooms, to start.” He prods me into the elevator and pushes the button for my floor.
“So I just need to be comfortable enough to tell people. That’s it?”
“That’s it. See? Easy.” He brushes his thumb across my knuckles and just that minor amount of friction leaves me quivering with want.
“Stephen knows!” I shout triumphantly.
“And I’m sure you swore him to secrecy.” Drat, he’s got me again.
I can’t believe he’s denying me—denyinghimself—especially when I can see how much he wants this. The evidence is visible from across the elevator. Apparently, I’ve found the only incorruptible man in DC.Lucky me.
The elevator dings and he tugs me out. I follow at a snail’s pace, the condemned headed to the gallows. When we reach my door, he grabs me by the jacket lapels and pulls me close. The way he’s looking at me reduces me to a consistency similar to the milkshakes we just consumed.
“What time do you leave for work in the morning?” It’s his husky voice, the one that makes me forget my own name. I want to close my eyes and let it wash over me. I want him to tell me a bedtime story.
“Eight forty-five. Why?”
His eyes shine down at me like two brilliant stars. “Because I’m going to walk you, silly.”
He kisses me slowly, his hands migrating up my jacket to cradle my face. It’s soft and light, lovely and unhurried, like he’s tasting me and committing me to memory. He’s going slow, making it last, leaving an impression. If he’s not going to stay, he’s going to make damn sure I know what I’m missing.
When he pulls away, I’m gasping and overcome. I wonder if you can die from unfulfilled lust.
“If you come in, we don’t have to do anything. We can just talk!” I plead, clutching his shirt in a death grip.
“Oh sure. We’re very good at ‘just talking’ when we’re alone together.” He replaces my hat on my head and smiles.
“Your moral uprightness is getting annoying,” I grumble.
“Nah, you love it. You want me even more now.”
“I knew it! This is all just a ploy. You’re into long, drawn-out foreplay.”
“Maybe you’ll find out someday.”
“I bet I could break you.”
“I bet you could too. Please don’t try. I’m a good guy, not a priest.”
I feel it so strongly then, standing there and grinning up at him, my heart nearly beating out of my chest.I’m in love with you.It’s on the tip of my tongue. It’s tripping out of my mouth. I want to breathe it into him. Tattoo it on my forehead. Shout it through a megaphone so loud his hair blows back.
But how can I sayI love youin one breath and deny him the acknowledgment of our relationship in the next? It would be wrong and unfair to him. I say something else instead.
“It’s weird. I already miss you, even though you’re standing right here.”
He looks at me so sharply, I wonder if I’ve said something wrong.
