Chapter 5
Dylan
The door closes behind Tess with a soft click that should not sound nearly as loud as it does.
Get a grip.
I draw in a slow breath through my nose, aiming to control the hard-on I’m sporting and getting the exact opposite. Her perfume still lingers in the air. The scent hits me immediately, worsening my condition.
Jesus Christ.
I drag a hand down my face slowly, forcing air into my lungs before I shove away from the desk hard enough that the chair behind me rolls slightly across the floor.
What the hell was that?
I know exactly what it was physically. My body made that very clear the second Tess kissed me back like she’d been holding herself in check as tightly as I had.
But standing here now, replaying the look in her eyes before she walked out, the problem sitting under my skin has very little to do with wanting her naked.
I’ve wanted women before.
Plenty of them.
Wanting Tess feels different in a way I deeply do not appreciate.
I cross toward the windows overlooking Main Street, loosening my tie as I go; the knot suddenly feels too tight against my throat. Outside, late afternoon light catches on truck windshields and storefront windows, washing the brick buildings below in gold before clouds drift over the sun again.
Normally, the view settles me.
Right now, my pulse still hasn’t come down.
The kiss keeps replaying whether I want it to or not.
The feel of her softening beneath my hand.
The quiet sound she made when I deepened the kiss and she opened for me instead of pulling away.
The way her body yielded against mine like some instinct inside her recognized exactly what I wanted from her and chose to give it to me.
Jesus Christ.
Heat rolls through me all over again, sharp enough that I brace a hand against the window before I realize I’m doing it. The glass is cold beneath my palm, but it barely cuts through the restless energy burning under my skin.
Because she kissed me back.
A quiet voice in the back of my head keeps pointing out all the reasons this crossed a line neither of us should have touched. She works for me. I signed her contract myself. One wrong move here and everything gets complicated fast.
The problem is that the rest of me feels too damn satisfied to care.
My tie hangs loose around my neck while adrenaline and arousal continue humming through my body in rough, uneven waves. I should regret this already.
Instead, I keep thinking about the way Tess looked at me when she finally stopped fighting the attraction between us.
Open.
Breathless.
Yielding beneath my mouth like she wanted my control as much as I wanted to take it.
Wanting her already feels too personal.
A knock sounds against the door, and my head comes up instantly. Anticipation hits before common sense catches up, followed immediately by irritation at myself for reacting that fast in the first place.
It’s only Ethan from logistics.
“Bad time?” he asks, pausing just inside the doorway.
I force my shoulders to loosen and lean one hip against the edge of the desk. “What do you need?”
He starts talking about a shipment delay out of Wichita, something involving a supplier issue and revised arrival estimates, but halfway through, I realize I haven’t absorbed more than every third word. My attention keeps drifting beyond him to the movement outside my office.
Tess sits at her desk like nothing happened.
She types something into her computer, pauses to answer a call, then reaches for her coffee with the same composed efficiency she’s carried all week. Nobody passing by would guess she was kissing me against my desk less than ten minutes ago.
Meanwhile, I’m standing here struggling to focus on basic conversation.
I drag my attention back to Ethan with effort. “Send me the revised numbers before six.”
He gives me a strange look. “Already did.”
Right.
“Good.”
Ethan lingers for half a second longer before leaving, probably trying to decide whether I’m distracted or just being an asshole today. The second the door closes again, my gaze cuts straight back toward Tess like it belongs there.
She doesn’t look up.
Some irrational part of me wants her to.
I want acknowledgment. Some sign she’s as thrown off by this as I am. Instead, she calmly continues working while tension crawls steadily beneath my skin.
I should stop this now, before wanting her starts bleeding into parts of my life I keep locked down for a reason.
The thought lands cleanly enough. The problem is my body refuses to cooperate with it.
I sit behind my desk and attempt to work, but the spreadsheet open on my monitor might as well be written in another language.
Every few minutes, my focus drifts again despite myself.
Tess making notes during a call. Tess pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
Tess frowning faintly at something on her screen before fixing it almost immediately.
By the time the intercom buzzes, I’m already wound too tight.
“Yes?”
“Your five o’clock canceled,” Tess says, her voice smooth and professional through the speaker. “He’s stuck in Wichita until tomorrow.”
The sound of her voice slides low through me in a way that makes me close my eyes briefly.
“Reschedule him for Thursday.”
“Already done.”
Of course it is.
Silence lingers for a moment before she speaks again, more carefully this time. “Would you like me to leave the revised Anderson file on my desk before I go?”
She’s giving me distance if I want it. A clean reset. A way to put this entire thing back into the box it should’ve stayed in from the beginning.
My fingers tighten around the pen in my hand until the plastic creaks softly beneath the pressure.
“No,” I hear myself say. “Bring it in.”
Another pause.
“All right.”
The intercom clicks off.
I lean back slowly in my chair and stare at the ceiling for a second. Every instinct I have tells me this is a mistake. Unfortunately, the part of me making decisions right now seems deeply uninterested in listening.
Five minutes later, a soft knock sounds against the doorframe.
This time, when I look up and see Tess standing there with a file tucked against her chest, awareness hits me hard enough to feel physical. The faint flush still lingering high along her throat does absolutely nothing to help the situation.
She crosses toward the desk and places the folder carefully between us. “The revised projections and updated supplier timeline.”
I nod once, though neither of us reaches for the file.
The silence shifts around us again, quieter than before but heavier somehow. Tess smooths one hand lightly over the edge of the folder before stepping back a fraction.
“About earlier…”
My pulse kicks harder instantly.
“Yes,” I say carefully.
Her eyes lift fully to mine then, steady despite the tension humming underneath them. “That shouldn’t have happened.”
The words should feel reassuring. Instead, disappointment settles low in my stomach before I can stop it.
I lean back slowly in my chair, studying her face. “You regret it?”
“No.” The answer comes immediately. A faint crease appears between her brows a second later, like she realizes too late how honest that sounded. “That’s part of the problem.”
Something in my chest loosens unexpectedly.
I drag a hand along my jaw once before answering. “You’re right. It shouldn’t have happened.”
She nods slowly, though neither of us looks convinced.
The air between us remains charged enough that I can practically feel it pressing against my skin.
“I crossed a line,” I continue, forcing the words out steadily. “Professionally.”
Tess’s gaze sharpens slightly. “I kissed you back.”
“That doesn’t help as much as you think it does.”
A small smile threatens briefly at the corner of her mouth before disappearing again, and the sight of it nearly strips the rest of my restraint clean away.
I stand abruptly and cross toward the windows before I do something profoundly stupid. Behind me, the office stays quiet enough that I can hear the subtle shift of fabric when she changes her stance.
“You hesitated before taking this job.” I keep my eyes on the street below instead of turning back toward her. Cars move steadily through downtown Iron Ridge, sunlight flashing briefly across windshields before disappearing again, but I’m barely seeing any of it now.
Quiet settles behind me for a moment.
Then, softly, “Yes.”
Something in the honesty of it pulls my attention back before I consciously decide to move.
I turn just enough to find her still standing near my desk, one hand resting lightly against the edge of the file she brought in.
She doesn’t look uncomfortable exactly. Careful fits better.
Like she’s weighing every word before letting it leave her mouth.
“Why?”
Tess exhales slowly and folds her arms loosely across her waist, fingers disappearing beneath the sleeves of her blazer for a second before reappearing again.
“Because of your reputation.”
The answer lands squarely in the center of my chest.
Not because it surprises me. Because it doesn’t.
I look away before irritation flashes too openly across my face.
The movement turns sharper than intended, and I drag a hand back through my hair instead, my fingers catching briefly in the strands.
The slight pull sends an immediate flash of memory through me.
Tess standing against my desk with her hands buried in my hair while we kissed, her fingers tightening every time I pushed deeper into her mouth.
Heat curls low in my stomach instantly, making me close my eyes for half a second before I force myself to focus again.
“Jeremy warned you.”
“He did.” Her voice stays even, free of defensiveness or embarrassment. “Subtly. Jeremy cares about both of us, and I think he wanted to make sure I walked in with realistic expectations before I agreed to anything.”
That cuts through my irritation cleaner than anything else could have because she’s right. Jeremy would absolutely try to protect both of us, even if this entire situation already feels far beyond protecting.
I brace one hand against the window frame and drag a slow breath into my lungs before looking back at her again. “And what exactly did he say?”
Tess studies me quietly for a second, dark eyes steady enough that I get the uncomfortable feeling she sees more than I intended to show. “He said assistants don’t usually last here.”
Fair.
A humorless smile pulls briefly at the corner of my mouth before fading again. “He’s not wrong.”
Her fingers bunch the fabric at her wrists briefly before she smooths it back into place. “Jeremy didn’t say it outright, but between his warning and your reputation, the rest wasn’t hard to piece together.”
That one settles more heavily.
For a second, neither of us speaks. Traffic moves somewhere below us, softened by glass and distance, while cool air drifts through the office vents overhead. None of it cuts through the silence stretching between us.
“I don’t lie to women,” I tell her finally.
Tess’s gaze doesn’t waver.
“No,” she murmurs after a moment. “I don’t think you do.”
The certainty in her voice catches me off guard enough that I straighten slightly away from the window.
There’s no judgment on her face. No disappointment either.
If anything, she looks like she’s trying to fit the man standing in front of her together with the version she’d heard about before she walked into this office.
And somehow that unsettles me more than anger would have.
“I don’t make promises I can’t keep.” The words come quieter this time, roughened slightly around the edges from everything sitting underneath them.
Something shifts subtly across her expression then. Curiosity maybe. Or recognition.
“Good to know marriage and forever aren't on the list.”
The remark should feel light. Teasing even. Instead, the second the words leave her mouth, something in the room changes again. The air tightens. The distance between us suddenly feels much smaller than the several feet still separating us.
I hold her gaze longer than I should.
Long enough to notice the faint rise and fall of her breathing.
Long enough to watch awareness flicker slowly across her face when I don’t immediately laugh the question off.
“I’ve never met anyone who made me want that.”
The silence afterward feels almost physical.
Tess stills completely except for the subtle change in her breathing. Most people would miss it. I don’t. Her pupils widen until the hazel of her eyes darkens beneath them, and for one suspended second, her breathing catches altogether before returning quicker than before.
And standing there watching her look at me like that, I become abruptly, painfully aware of how small this office suddenly feels.