Chapter Nine Ezra #2
There’s no reason to waste that kind of magic, especially when you have an opportunity like this lying at your feet.
“Does that mean you’re accepting my offer?”
“You’re not really leaving me a choice, are you?”
I rise from my chair, moving around the desk until I’m seated on the edge. The position causes my hip to pinch with pain, but I do it anyway, just to be closer to her. It’s clear this is stressing her out, and that’s the last thing I wanted. “Of course I am, Summer. This choice was always yours.”
“It doesn’t feel that way,” she mutters, turning once more to go back the other way.
“I’m sorry. I was just messing with you.”
“You were pushing me.”
I nod. “I was.”
“And it was mean.”
“It was,” I agree, and as she passes by me again, I grab her wrist, stopping her.
She’s soft beneath my fingers, her skin like velvet. Warm too.
She looks down at where my hand is curled around her, then back up at me, but she doesn’t pull away, and I don’t either.
Stop touching her, Ezra. She’s your employee.
I ignore myself.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her again. “I shouldn’t have done that, but Summer . . . you’re incredible in the kitchen, you know that, right?”
She looks anywhere but at me as she shrugs. “I guess.”
“You guess?” I tug on her until she looks up at me because I need her to hear this next part.
“There is no guessing, and you know it. Just like I know you know how much you enjoyed being in there. I have no idea what happened at your last job, but it’s obvious that whatever it was, it has you scared to try again, and that’s fucking heartbreaking.
You’re too damn talented to let your passion fizzle out over one bad thing, and you’re too young to give up now. ”
“I’m not that young.”
“You’re twenty-six. Talk to me when you’re thirty-four and your dream is nothing but a distant memory.”
As if I need the reminder, my hip throbs, and I swallow down the pain—the physical and the emotional.
“Anyway, you can’t just give up. I know you want to, but don’t.”
“I . . .” She runs her tongue along her bottom lip, her lipstick not moving an inch. “I don’t want to give up. I just don’t know if I’m ready. What if I let you down?” Then, quieter, she says, “What if I let myself down?”
“You won’t. I promise that you won’t. And if at any time it’s not what you want, you tell me, and I’ll let you out. You can walk away. No harm, no foul.”
She weighs my words carefully, letting them hang between us.
Say yes, I beg silently. Say yes, and not just for me, but for you too.
Then finally—fucking finally—she utters a single word. “Yes.”
“Seriously?”
She sighs, then nods. “Yes, seriously. But I have . . . requests.”
“Whatever you want. I’m not an expert in this area. You are.”
“Pfft. Please. I’m not. An expert wouldn’t have lost their kitchen so quickly,” she says softly.
I know I should have more questions about that—and I do, and I will ask them later—but right now, I’m fucking elated, and it’s not solely because I know that the cidery is going to benefit from this.
I’m happy for her. I’m glad she’s getting her passion back. I know all too well what it feels like to lose the thing you love the most. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, least of all Summer.
I don’t know what it is about her, but . . . fuck, I don’t know. I just want the best for her. I want her to get everything she’s ever wanted, and I can’t remember the last time I felt that way about anyone.
I run my thumb over the inside of her wrist, and her pulse intensifies. I can feel it thrumming against me. And fuck if it doesn’t make mine ramp up too.
Her brown eyes darken until they’re nearly black, her mouth dropping open just slightly, and once again I find myself leaning into her.
Stop this, Ezra. Stop it right now.
But I don’t.
And neither does she.
Closer and closer, and I know I should stop. I know it, yet I can’t make myself do it.
“Ezra . . .”
She says my name in a whisper just before our lips connect, and fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
She’s sweet. She’s soft. She’s everything I thought she would be as I tug her closer. I drop her wrist, instead cupping her face as her mouth works against mine.
There’s a tiny voice in the back of my mind that’s telling me what a bad idea this is, but how can that be when she feels as good as she does? When she tastes so fucking heavenly. When she lets out the softest whimpers as my tongue brushes against hers.
This can’t be a bad idea. It’s not possible.
Summer steps closer, and it’s not enough, so I tug on her, her weight resting on me.
That’s when I feel it—a jolt through my right hip and down, and I nearly crumble.
I snap back from her in a flash, and I know instantly it’s a mistake.
Regret and shame and utter fucking embarrassment swirl in her gaze, her face falling right in front of me.
“Oh my god!” Her hand goes to her mouth, her eyes wide as she stares at me with horror. “I’m sorry. I’m . . . I didn’t . . . I . . .”
“Summer, wait.” I push off the desk, and my hip screams at me so fucking loud, I sit right back down. I gnash my teeth together, trying to fight the ache, but it’s too much. My leg is completely stiff, my body coursing with pain. “Fuck, I—”
She shakes her head. “No, I . . . I . . .”
It’s the last thing she says before she turns and runs out of my office.