Terms of Agreement

49. Chapter 49

Chapter 49

Aiden

I was fucked. Well and truly fucked. That had been my final thought before we’d fallen asleep in a tangle of limbs. Charlotte Hall had ruined me, but somehow, when I’d woken up in the middle of the night, unable to tell where I ended and she began, I couldn’t find it in myself to care. I’d just nuzzled my face into her brown curls and pulled her body closer to mine before going back to sleep.

Rolling onto my side, I turned to face the woman beside me, whose soft grumble of protest indicated that she was waking up. My lips spread into an easy smile. Charlotte was delightfully predictable in the mornings, always fighting for “just five more minutes,” until eventually she’d have to cede victory to the daylight and her mossy green eyes would flutter in defeat. I met her gaze, chest clenching as it always did, when her pretty, pink lips split into a sleepy smile and I was suddenly, inexplicably overcome with the urge to ask her to stay. My chest seized, panic smothering any pleasure the notion might have had as realisation reared, fresh-faced, in the light of day. I’d allowed myself to get to caught up in this—in her.

Last night had been a mistake—a momentary lapse of judgement, one that had been so terrifyingly easy to make. But I couldn’t allow myself to forget that, beyond this building, we didn’t exist in any shape or form. Not in any real way.

‘Morning,’ Charlotte murmured, her voice still thick with sleep.

‘Morning,’ I returned with a tight smile.

‘That was fun.’ She smiled, rolling onto her back and rubbing her eyes.

‘It was.’ It always was with Charlotte. That was part of the problem.

Reaching for her phone, she glanced at the time before turning back to me. ‘I should get back,’ she said, her eyes studying my face, waiting for my reply.

‘I’ll walk you out,’ I said, turning away the temptation she posed as I forced myself out of bed.

‘Oh, you don’t have to do that.’

She was right. I didn’t have to. I’d never done it before. But I wanted to. I’d never known myself to be a masochist, but I couldn’t seem to help myself when it came to Charlotte. There were only two weeks left until the Christmas Party, and while I would be more cautious of the lines between us, I couldn’t bring myself to pass up an opportunity to postpone our inevitable parting.

‘Just to the elevator,’ I said, enforcing a boundary as if it mattered.

Charlotte nodded and moved past me towards the door, and for a moment, I could have sworn I saw a glimmer of my own disappointment reflected in her eyes.