Chapter 14 #2
"I didn't say that."
"You were thinking it."
She rolls her eyes. I take the lack of protest as an invitation to enter her office fully, strolling toward the bookshelf on the far wall opposite her desk.
"Impressive collection," I say, scanning the shelves. There's a mix of marketing books, some fiction, and personal items. Her diploma from UT Austin is framed neatly. Summa cum laude, of course. I smile at that.
The photos catch my eye next. Her in hiking gear atop some mountain, arms raised in victory. Her at what looks like a charity 5K, sweaty and grinning. Her with her sister at what must be a family gathering, mid-laugh with wine glasses in hand.
"You have a great smile," I say, the words slipping out before I can filter them.
"What?"
I gesture at the photos. "When you actually smile. The real one, not the corporate one."
She's quiet for a moment. "Hard to tell the difference when you're not looking at me."
I turn to face her, catching her quickly averting her eyes. She'd been checking me out and now she's pretending she wasn't. The thought sends a rush of satisfaction through me.
Time to play this up a bit.
I roll my shoulders casually, knowing the movement stretches my shirt across my chest. "Got your email about the flights this morning," I say, moving slowly back toward her desk. "Very thorough. Very... professional."
"That was the intent." Her cheeks flush slightly. "I'm a planner."
"I noticed."
I smile at her, taking another step toward her desk. "So about those tickets..."
"Yes, the tickets." She straightens papers that don't need straightening. "When do you plan on buying them?"
"Already looked into it this morning." I tap my phone. "Planning to book them before our meeting. First class is still available."
"Still can't believe you're dropping that kind of money just to people-watch in an airport lounge."
"Worth every penny. "
She stands abruptly, circling her desk with a file folder clutched to her chest like armor.
When she reaches the front, she perches on the edge, crossing her legs at the ankle.
The movement draws my eyes down to her heels, then back up.
Her dress hugs her curves in a way that makes professional thoughts nearly impossible.
"Sebastian." Her voice has a warning note.
"Charlie." I mimic her tone, moving closer still.
Now I'm standing directly in front of her, close enough that I can smell her perfume. It’s something light with hints of vanilla, I think. She has to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact, which puts her at a disadvantage she clearly doesn't appreciate.
"I feel obligated to remind you that this fake relationship doesn't start until Sunday." Her voice is steady, but her fingers fidget with the edge of the folder. "At the airport. When we're officially on family vacation time."
"Is that in the contract? I must have missed that clause."
She narrows her eyes. "There's no contract."
"Exactly."
She inhales sharply. "The office is off-limits."
"We're the only ones here."
"That's not the point."
I lean in slightly. "Then what is the point, Shortcake?"
"The point is—" She stops, swallows. "The point is we need clear boundaries."
I can't help it and my eyes drift to her lips, remembering how they felt against mine. How soft and responsive they are. How she'd leaned into me for a moment before pulling back.
"About last night..." I keep my voice low.
"What about it?"
"I've been thinking about something."
Her breath catches. "Sebastian—"
"You're still calling me Sebastian."
"That's your name."
I shake my head slightly. "Not to you. Not anymore."
I lean down, my lips brushing the delicate shell of her ear, close enough that I can feel the slight hitch in her breath as she tenses.
"I told you that you could call me Bash," I murmur, letting my voice drop into that lower register that always makes her blink too fast.
She turns her head slowly and suddenly we're suspended in that dizzying space between one breath and the next, closer than we've been since last weekend. Her lips part slightly, the pink flush racing down her throat betraying her as her gaze flickers to my mouth and back up.
"I know," she breathes, the words barely audible.
The air between us crackles with something dangerously close to inevitability.
Her freckles, those maddening, scattered constellations across her nose are more obvious this close, and suddenly I need to catalog every last one.
I can count every rapid flutter of her lashes, see the pulse jumping at the base of her throat.
She smells like warm vanilla and it's taking every ounce of my self-control not to bury my face in the curve of her neck right here in her goddamn office.
I lift my hand deliberately slow, telegraphing my movement, but she doesn't retreat like I expect. She just watches, wary but curious, as I tuck a stubborn wave behind her ear. My knuckles graze the impossibly soft skin of her cheek, and Jesus, she's perfect.
"Charlie," I whisper, and it comes out rough around the edges, a question and a plea all at once.
Her eyelashes sweep down, dark against her flushed cheeks, and I'm lost. I lean in, the world narrowing to the scant centimeter between our lips, close enough to taste the coffee on her breath—
A sharp knock on the doorframe shatters the moment.
"Morning, Char! I brought—oh!" Zoe stands frozen in the doorway, coffee carrier in hand, mouth hanging open.
Charlie practically teleports back behind her desk, cheeks flaming. I take two swift steps backward, clearing my throat.
"Zoe! Hi! Good morning!" Charlie's voice is at least an octave higher than normal.
"I... brought coffee?" Zoe says, her statement sounding more like a question.
"Thank you," I say smoothly, recovering faster than Charlie. "Charlie was just telling me that she needed some coffee. We're discussing the, uh, Adrenaline Athletics account."
"Right. The account." Charlie nods too enthusiastically. "Very important... strategy... things."
Zoe's eyebrows climb toward her hairline. "Strategy things. Got it." She sets the coffee carrier on Charlie's desk, a knowing smirk playing at her lips. "Amelia just pulled in, by the way. The office team meeting starts in fifteen."
"Perfect timing," Charlie says, not meeting anyone's eyes. "Thank you, Zoe."
When Zoe leaves, Charlie finally looks at me, her expression a mix of embarrassment and frustration.
"That," she says pointedly, "is exactly why we need boundaries."
I run a hand through my hair, suppressing a smile. "Because Zoe brought coffee?"
"You know what I mean."
I do know. But I can't bring myself to regret it. Not when I can still see the lingering heat in her eyes, not when I know she wanted that kiss as much as I did.
"I'll book my tickets," I say, backing toward the door. "See you in fifteen."
"Yup." Her voice is ice cold.
I duck out before she can throw something at me, but I swear I hear her mutter "insufferable" under her breath. I'm still grinning when I reach my office.
Sunday suddenly feels very far away.