10. Power Surge
POWER SURGE
SEAN
We talk. About everything and nothing. Favorite movies.
Coworkers. He tells me about the time the night janitor, Dex, once built a mini Roomba army to “increase operational efficiency,” and I nearly spit out my drink.
Greg breaks, breath hitching into an unguarded snort as he clutches his stomach, eyes bright with tears.
Something about how open he is loosens all the stress I’m holding, and suddenly I’m laughing harder than I have all day.
I can’t remember the last time I’ve laughed this much.
Not a polite chuckle or a small exhale, but a full-body howl that makes my ribs ache, my cheeks burn, and my eyes sting.
Greg’s laugh is contagious, and soon we’re both bent over, leaning into each other, snorting and gasping, tears of joy running down our faces.
Between gasps, he wipes his eyes and grins at me. “I swear, I didn’t think anyone else would get the whole Roomba army thing. Most people just… blink and nod.”
“Blink and nod? That’s how the Roombas know you’re weak.”
Greg blurts out, laughing, “And then there was the time Magnus actually called me a ‘code wizard.’ Can you believe it? Our fearless CEO—he couldn’t tell a monitor from a modem if his life depended on it!”
I snort, covering my mouth. “Wait, he called you a code wizard?”
Greg nods, chuckling so hard his shoulders shake. “Not a hint of doubt. Like it was totally normal. And me—the giant, IT dork in glasses—just standing there, trying not to spill my coffee while he praises my magic fingers on the keyboard.”
I tilt sideways, clutching my stomach, trying to breathe through the laughter.
Greg reaches to steady me, but we miscalculate.
Our shoulders bump, our hands tangle, and we both stumble into each other.
My cheek presses against his chest, warm and solid.
My hair flops over my face, tickling my skin, and Greg’s glasses slip down his nose.
We both giggle trying to right ourselves but fail spectacularly.
I shove at his chest playfully, trying to push him back, but he grips my shoulders, holding me close.
Our noses brush. His breath is warm, his laughter mingling with mine, and suddenly the chaos of the story fades.
It’s just us, and that sharp, electric tension threading through my chest, tightening in a way that makes it impossible to focus on anything but the moment.
The laughter fades, replaced by something quieter, hungrier.
We’re close—too close. His hand’s still on my arm, steady and firm, and when I look up, his green eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them.
“Sean,” he says softly.
“Yeah?”
Then he kisses me.
It’s deeper this time—confident, certain, like he’s wanted this just as long as I have. For a breath, all I can think is, Finally, his lips are on mine again.
He pulls back almost immediately, breath unsteady. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I shouldn’t have—”
“Don’t,” I say, touching his wrist. “Don’t apologize.”
He hesitates then meets my gaze again. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.
” His voice is rough, unguarded. “Your hair.” He brushes a strand from my forehead.
“Your lips.” His thumb grazes my mouth. “Your face.” A slow exhale.
“Those freckles.” He brushes his fingers against my cheek. “You.”
Every word lands like a spark.
“I thought you were mad at me,” he adds quietly. “After the other night. I thought maybe I scared you off.”
“I wasn’t mad,” I say, forcing out a shaky laugh. “I was… terrified.”
His brow furrows, and his eyes widen in a way that breaks me open. “Of me?”
“No! Of losing my job. Everything I’ve built.
I just—” I swallow. “I’ve never been with anyone like you before.
Hell, I haven’t really been with anyone in a long time.
Just random meaningless hookups here and there.
Too much work, too many bills. Raising Ashley took everything.
And now she’s finally in college, and I—”
I stop, because his expression softens in a way that makes my throat ache.
He reaches for my hand. “You’ve been taking care of everyone else,” he says gently. “Maybe it’s time someone took care of you.”
The words pierce my soul.
I lean in and kiss him again, this time slower, bolder.
He groans softly, one hand sliding into my hair, the other gripping my waist like he’s afraid I’ll vanish. My fingers find the edge of his open collar, tug lightly, then more.
There’s a pull, like a magnet, and I’m straddling his lap, the chair creaking beneath us. His hands skim up my back, tracing lines of heat that make it impossible to think.
There’s no pretense now. No polite distance. Just the low whisper of the machines in the room and the sound of our uneven breathing.
He breaks the kiss long enough to whisper, “Sean, if you want to stop—”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to stop.” My hands land on his chest, and by gods, he’s built like a boulder. “I want… more.”
He swallows hard, eyes searching mine. “Good.”
He tugs me closer, lips finding mine again. His hands slide under my shirt, fingers spreading across my skin, and the world narrows to the press of his body, the warmth of his breath, the faint taste of pizza, and something sweeter, all him.
He pulls back, panting slightly, eyes full of a mix of reverence and hunger. “You turn me inside out,” he murmurs. “Every damn day.”
“Guess that makes us even,” I whisper back.
He laughs softly, brushing his thumb along my jaw before kissing me again—and that’s where everything fades into heat.