that barely contained the glorious curves. Cute dimples just above winked at me. Her cheeks jiggled enticingly as she frantically threw the blanket and an assortment of clothing to the floor in her frantic search.
God, this was the prettiest, juiciest peach I’d ever seen.
So this was how I died. Death by Zora’s ass. Not how I’d expected, but still, an amazing way to go.
I gritted my teeth at the insistent throbbing of my cock against my fly. There was no way I could stand, not if I wanted to appear a gentleman.
“Zora.” I closed my eyes briefly, reluctant to lose more than a millisecond of the splendid sight in front of me. This woman. Twelve years later and she hadn’t changed. She was still as off-beat, as wonderfully awkward as before, and still had the potential to drive me out of my mind with lust. “Why the hell are you sleeping naked on a couch with the door open?”
“The door was closed, or at least I thought it was, I went to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Maybe I didn’t pull it completely closed.”
“Why are you sleeping without your pants?” But thank you for doing so.
“I can’t sleep in jeans.” She’d moved her search to the back of the couch, as if a pair of pants would magically sprout along the wall. “I usually take them off so I can sleep, really sleep, for a few hours while I’m working on an application and need a break—”
Frustration warred with lust. “Usually? So you do this often. What’s so pressing you’re sleeping in this godforsaken office?”
“Money,” she yelled, turning to face me. “I need money. For tenure. To fund my employees.”
“Okay,” I said, lost. “How are you making it in this office?”
“Grants, dummy.” She said it in precisely the same tone she’d used when we were kids and I’d baited her by doing something deliberately idiotic.
She pulled up short and blinked at me.
I snorted with laughter. “Yes. Yes, you did just call me dummy.”
We blinked at each other in reluctant amusement, suddenly back to being the children who relentlessly teased and harassed each other.
God, I missed her. God, I missed this.
All things considered, I was making progress. I’d take the bloodlust in her eyes over wounded resentment any day.
“Help me find my pants.” Her hands crossed at her crotch. “And stop looking at me.”
“While you’re like that? Impossible. But I will help you find your pants.”
Jesus, how to do this? Well, she was exposed and asking for my help, so maybe it just made us even.
I hesitated, then stood.
“God.” Her gaze snapped to my dick, which certainly wasn’t going to make it go down any faster. I swallowed a comment, decided I was better than that. I was an honorable man, above asking if it was more than she was used to. Although, fuck honor when it came to Jackson James.
I moved around the table, unable to break my gaze away from her legs, her thighs, which led up to—
“Nick!”
“Sorry, sorry. Shouldn’t you know where you left your own pants? How far could they have—”
“There they are.” She rushed past me, her soft hip brushing my leg as she ripped a blur of denim from one of the meeting chairs. I looked away as she went through the tortuous process of wiggling and jiggling into her jeans.
I wanted my hands on her, helping. But if I helped, they were going back down.
Good Lord. Was life on her planet always this upside down?
I turned my gaze from the reflection of her glorious ass disappearing into her jeans in the opposite window. As delectable as this distraction had been, I needed to get back on course, find out what was going on.
“Is that what they’ve got on you, Zora? You need grant money to keep your job?”
Her shoulders slumped. She spoke over her shoulder to me.
“Yes, Nick. Yes. Happy? You’ve caught me at my lowest. Again. Not only am I half-naked this time, but I’m at the end of my career. I came here—” She gestured at her paper-covered desk and let her arm fall against her side. “Adesola came across a last-minute funding opportunity and I just had to try. It probably won’t work. Nothing else has. But I had less than a day to get it done and in.”
It killed me seeing her like this. Tired. Broken. Hopeless. “How long have you been doing this?”
“For a while now. A year.” She lifted one shoulder.
“My team told me all