That’s when I see it, an envelope half tucked into the opening of her purse. Plain white. Opened. I reach for it on instinct.
Her reaction is immediate. “Don’t.” Her hand shoots out, grabbing my wrist.
Too fast.
Too sharp.
We both freeze.
Her fingers are warm against my skin, but it’s not the touch I notice. It’s the fear.
Real.
Unfiltered.
I lower my eyes to her hand still wrapped around my wrist, then back to her face. “What’s this?” I glance at the envelope.
“It’s private.”
“So is what we did in New Orleans. Private. Between us.”
Her breath hitches. “That’s different.”
“How?”
She lets go of my wrist like she just realized she’s still touching me. “Because that was a mistake.”
Her words throw water on the fire in my chest, so I fire back. “Didn’t feel like a mistake.”
“I can’t cross the line again.”
“Okay.”
“You’re just… okay with that?”
“No.” I stand back up. And she stands too like she’s going to escort me out of the office. “But I’m not going to argue about what happened. It happened and we both know it was fucking incredible.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Originally, because you left when you said you would stay.” I glance at the bag and the envelope that keeps pulling her attention away from me. “But now, I know something is wrong… other than me being a mistake.”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Annika.” Her name rolls off my tongue. No challenge. No push. Just letting her know I’m here to listen.
“I’m fine.” She swallows. “It’s not your problem.”
“Maybe I want it to be. Maybe I want to help you overcome your fears like you’re helping me.”
My words land. I can see the crack in her armor. It’s small but it’s there. She steps back, putting distance between us.
“You said yourself, it wasn’t my techniques that helped you. It was the sex.”
“I was joking. But it didn’t hurt,” I wink. “Don’t push me away the minute this thing between us gets real.”
Her shoulders tense. “It didn’t getreal.”
“Right, because you have casual sex. You don’t strike me as the casual sex type.”
