island, then grabbed the box of tea from the cabinet next to the one I’d been ransacking. Without asking if that’s the one I had been looking for, she prepared two cups and set them on the counter, then brought the honey over.
“Does it hurt?” I asked as the tea steeped, motioning to her hand.
“No.” She shook her head, her hair sweeping softly over her bare shoulders.
“I’m so sorry.” That tank top was going to be the death of me if I stared too long, so I focused on the cups in front of us.
“Better me than you,” she said with a little laugh, hopping back up to sit on the island.
“Don’t say that,” I snapped. Our gazes collided.
“It’s true.” Her eyebrows rose.
“It’s bullshit.”
“I’m not the one who has to play a show in four days. You need your hand for that.” She shrugged.
“You shouldn’t have to pay for my mistake!” That’s always how it worked, wasn’t it? I fucked up. Someone else paid the price. But not Zoe. She was where I drew the line—where my “always” became “used to.”
“Nixon,” she whispered, softening as she slid her hand toward mine on the counter, but stopped just shy of touching it. “It’s just a little cut. Tiny. No stitches. No blood loss.”
“For now,” I muttered.
“You act like you’re some kind of wrecking ball. You’re not.” Her finger brushed mine.
“Says the woman who currently has to babysit me.” I scoffed. “Not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly easy on the people around me.” Including you.
“What I’ve noticed are a lot of people trying their best to get close, and the ones who do fight to stay.” She squeezed the honey into our teas, and I removed the bags and stirred.
“I’m sorry I woke you up,” I said after my first swallow.
“I don’t mind. My boss sleeps late.” She flashed a teasing smile.
“When he sleeps,” I admitted.
“Have you slept tonight?” she asked, holding her cup between sips.
I nodded.
“What woke you up?”
I set the tea on the counter. “I have nightmares.” I shouldn’t have told her, but there it was.
“I’m sorry. Are they memories or fears?” Her pinky hooked over mine.
I froze at the question—not the touch.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me. I just wish I could help you.”
My focus shifted from our linked fingers to the smooth, creamy skin of her thigh, and I wondered if it was as soft as it looked. “You said something about me not being interested,” I said, dragging my gaze up her body to meet hers, well aware of my subject change.
Her brow puckered in confusion.
“A couple days ago, when we had the incredibly awkward conversation about that kiss,” I reminded her.
“Oh.” Her lips remained parted. “Sorry, I was trying to say that I understood.”
“I didn’t contradict you because it would open a door.” I shifted so I stood in front of her. “And usually I don’t give a shit about what someone thinks, but with you, it’s different.”
“I don’t understand.” She leaned forward slightly, bracing her palms on the counter.
“We said the kiss wouldn’t happen again,” I reminded her, moving closer. Her knees brushed against my stomach, and the contact tensed my abs.
“Right. I remember that.” Her gaze flickered downward but jerked back to my face.
“I agreed with you because it shouldn’t.” My eyes focused on her lips. “Because you work for me. Because we’re living together for the next few months. Because I’m not supposed to embark on any relationships fresh out of rehab, and you don’t strike me as the one-night stand type of girl.”
“I’m not,” she blurted.
“I know.” My face felt so tight it almost hurt to smile. “Those are my reasons. It has nothing to do with not being interested. Trust me.” I let her see it—the hunger I felt for her—as I stepped forward.
“But we’re not going to let it happen again, right?” Her knees parted and her breath hitched.
“Right,” I agreed. “Because we both know it would end badly.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Her words were at odds with her thighs, which split, leaving me enough room to stand between them.
“Because I keep enough secrets, and we’re together too much to not be perfectly honest about this.” I gripped her hips and tugged her to the edge of the counter, until she was flush against me from the juncture of her thighs to her breasts.
Too far, my brain warned me. I was taking this too far. But she felt so damned good against me.