“TESSA! Boss is looking for you!” someone yells from down the hall.
The urge to throw myself off the top floor? Yeah, it’s creeping in again.
Then my phone buzzes. A message from Emilia.
It’s a picture of takeout containers. I zoom in. Sushi.
Tessa: Girl. You’re allergic to fish.
Emilia: Yeah… Zane kinda forgot. He’s ordering pizza as an apology.
I smile despite myself.
Tessa: You beautiful, utter fool.
TESSA
ONE YEAR AGO
I’m walking down the hallway, hunting for Mr. Harris who definitely gets a kick out of mispronouncing my last name.
–
my boss
It’s Orlov.
Not Ralov.
Thanks for nothing, Dad. Pretty much the only thing he gave me was a last name people can’t say right.
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Just as I’m about to round the corner, someone yanks me into an open door.
I nearly scream – until I see him.
Those grey–blue eyes. That stupid heart–melting smile.
“You really couldn’t wait ‘til I clocked out, huh?” I breathe out, pulse still racing.
Lyle’s standing there, leaning in close. His strawberry blond hair is damp – probably sweat – and somehow, it makes him look even hotter. It should be illegal.
My heart skips. Then trips. Then forgets how to beat entirely.
“It takes everything in me not to lock you in my apartment and throw away the key,” he says, voice low and rough, “just so no one else can even look at you.”
God. He really knows how to talk.
I laugh, but there’s no real joy in it. I push at his chest, trying to ignore how solid and warm he feels under my hands. “So what? I get locked up while you parade your hookups around like trophies?”
He groans, head falling into the crook of my neck like he belongs there. I hate how right it feels. I hate how good he smells – sweat, citrusy shampoo, and something that’s just him.
“Don’t be like that, gorgeous,” he murmurs against my skin. “You know it’s not that simple.”
I swallow hard. My head’s screaming at me to run. My heart’s
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already halfway gone.
“Sure I do,” I whisper. Then louder, sharper: “Now get the hell off me, Lyle. I’m at work.”
He lifts his head slowly, that lazy, crooked smile spreading across his lips. “No one’s gonna bother us in here.”
“That’s not what I mea-”
But his mouth is already on mine, cutting me off completely.
The moment his lips touch mine, everything else melts away. The sting in my chest, the confusion, the guilt – all gone. His kiss is warm, hungry, and so familiar it makes my knees weak.
When his tongue brushes mine, a soft sound escapes me – like I’ve been holding my breath since the last time he touched me.
His fingers slide into my hair, gripping just tight enough to make me gasp. I find myself rising on my toes, chasing his lips like I need them to breathe.
And then – just as suddenly – he pulls away.
I blink up at him, lips tingling, chest heaving. His eyes are hooded, stormy, but there’s a wicked little smirk on his face.
“What were you saying, gorgeous?” he asks, voice low and
smug.
I try to focus, to remember what I was even thinking before he kissed me senseless. “That… this is a horrible idea.”
His smile deepens as he leans in close, lips brushing against mine again, just enough to make me shiver.
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“Good,” he whispers. “Those are always my favourite kind.”
Lyle’s lips find mine again, slow and hungry. His hands roam up my sides, and I melt into his touch without thinking. He slips his tongue into my mouth and I let out a soft moan as his hands slip beneath my shirt.
He pulls back, just a little, his breath mingling with mine. Then his lips trail kisses down my jaw, over my neck, and lower. He sinks to his knees, fisting my shirt as he looks up at me. “Hold this up.”
I listen, finally giving him the view he wants. He’s halfway through tugging down my shorts when he inhales sharply. He tugs on the hem of my lace panties and looks up at me, the heat in his eyes undeniable.
“This new?”
My mind’s a mess, from the heat of him against my skin, the high of knowing he’s come back to me after weeks of pushing me away. I can barely understand what he means, much less form a coherent thought, but I try.
“Do you mean…” I manage, breathless. “The panties? The piercing? Or the tattoo?”
Lyle’s lips part like he’s about to answer, but he never gets the
chance.
Loud voices echo from the hallway. Then the door bursts open.
“I’m sure he went this w- What the actual-”
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