He barks out a horrified laugh. “Winona, if you walk into my office and find me doing Sloane on my desk, call Torchwood. I’ve been replaced by a shapeshifting alien bent on world destruction.”
“Oh my God, did you just make a Doctor Who reference?” I say, delighted. “You big nerd.”
“Hey, you got the Doctor Who reference.” He grins at me. “You little nerd.”
“I’m learning so much about you.”
Good things. I’m learning good things about Blake Hudson, which feels dangerous. He suffered loss after loss when he was younger, and came out of it strong and successful. He’s enough of a geek that he can casually sprinkle his conversation with sci-fi in-jokes. He may give me grief, but when anyone else even looks at me wrong, he morphs into a knight in shining armor. He acts like he’s all business and nothing else, but he’s a big mushy marshmallow when it comes to his family.
It’s so much easier to manage my crush on him when I can wrap it in resentment and anti-elitist judgement.
I set down my glass of water and take a step away from him. As if putting an extra six inches of distance between us will save me.
He’s looking around the apartment again, as if he needs a distraction from the heavy emotional energy that’s fizzing in the air. His eyes light on something, and his brows shoot up in surprise.
“What is that?” He points accusingly.
Curse the luck, he’s spotted a crate of peach jam in the corner of the living room – with the logo on the outside of the wooden box.
I want to move to block his view, but that would be too obvious, so I just shrug. “It’s nothing.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing. It looks like a crate of peach jam,” he says accusingly.
He sets down his water glass and takes a step forward. He’s going to walk over to the crate. He’s going to demand answers.
I quickly move in front of him. He tries to sidestep me, so I wrap my arms around his neck and move with him.
“Shall we dance?” I keep my tone light.
He smiles down at me, his eyes sparkling with humor. “What secrets are you keeping, Winona?”
He’s not going to let this go. I press up against him and kiss him. I mean, I have absolutely no choice, do I? It’s that or start spilling confessions of my own, and that’s never going to happen. I don’t want him to think I’m asking for charity, or pity.
He startles at the touch of my lips, then leans into it.
He cups my cheek in his hand, deepening the kiss. His tongue strokes mine, tangling with it, caressing me. Like a fuse box switched on, my senses blaze to life, my skin pulsing with hunger for his touch. Then he pulls back, putting his hands on my shoulders.
“Fuck. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. We can’t,” he says roughly. “I can’t date. I’m terrible at it. I don’t have the time for it. When Sloane and I were together, the only reason we lasted as long as we did was that she never demanded anything of me. She was so eager to have bragging rights as Blake Hudson’s girlfriend that she tolerated me cancelling at least half our dates at the last minute and going a week at a time without calling her. I was a real asshole, now that I think of it. I can’t do that to you, and one night with you would never be enough. So where would that leave us?”
My heart thuds in my chest. “I don’t know,” I admit. “But I do know that we both want each other – we have since we first laid eyes on each other, and we’re fighting it so hard it’s wearing us down to a nub. Am I wrong?”
He shakes his head slowly. “No. I can’t sleep at night for wanting you.”
“Maybe we’d just get it out of our systems.”
“Or I’d find out that you’re an addiction I can never quit. Seems more likely.” His voice is a roughened growl of need. He moves closer to me as he’s talking. “Also, the whole boss-employee thing… I feel like I’d be taking advantage of you.”
Laughter bubbles up from my throat. “Blake Hudson. Look me in the eye. Do you think I’m someone who would let a man intimidate her into doing something she didn’t want to?”
“God, no,” he says fervently. “I think you’re the kind of woman who’d chew a man’s dick