I’ve been starving for this. For her. She melts against me like she’s been waiting too, like this has been building since that first day.
My other hand finds her hip, pulling her closer, and she comes willingly, stepping between my legs where I’m sitting on the treatment table. Her hands slide up my chest, over my shoulders, into my hair, and I groan against her mouth because this is—
Her phone buzzes on the table.
Loud. Jarring. Obnoxious.
We break apart like we’ve been shocked.
Reality crashes back in like a bucket of ice water.
We freeze—her hands still fisted in my hair, mine still gripping her hip, our mouths hovering an inch apart. Our breath mingles, ragged and hot. I can see my own shock reflected in her eyes.
What the hell were we doing?
She’s breathing hard, lips swollen, eyes wide. I’m not much better—chest heaving, heart pounding, every nerve ending in my body screaming at me to pull her back.
The phone buzzes again.
“I should—” She grabs it, not looking at the screen. “I have to go.”
“Tori—”
But she’s already moving. Grabbing her bag, shoving her phone in her pocket, avoiding my eyes like if she looks at me again she’ll do something she regrets.
“We can’t—” She stops at the door, hand on the frame. “I need to think.”
“Okay.”
She finally looks at me, and what I see there makes my chest ache: want, fear, and confusion, all tangled together.
“Okay,” she repeats, like she’s trying to convince herself. “I’ll... I’ll see you tomorrow.”
And then she’s gone.
The door swings shut behind her, and I sit there in the empty training room, heart still racing, the taste of her still on my lips.
I should regret that. I should be thinking about all the ways this complicates everything—her career, the fact that we work together, and I have a daughter who can’t afford for me to screw up another relationship.
But all I can think about is the sound she made when I kissed her. The way her fingers slid over my chest.
The way she kissed me back like she’d been waiting for it just as long as I had.
I run a hand through my hair and let out a long breath.
I’m in so much trouble.
And I don’t even care.
13
SPIRALING
Tori
Idon’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I’m back in that training room—his hand on the back of my neck, the warmth of his mouth, the way he looked at me before he leaned in. I kissed him back like my life depended on it.
I roll over and stare at the ceiling.
