Sweet Love - Mia Kayla Page 0,54

my hands in my lap. I swore I had never experienced such anxiety before. I’d stood, giving speeches, in front of boardrooms, in front of the whole Colby’s factory, in front of companies in New York on the verge of failure and I was their only hope, but, shit, that felt like peanuts to this. “And I’m sorry.” My eyes dropped to the floor of the limo. “I don’t know what else to say.”

Her shoulders began to shake. Is she crying?

Shit. Shit. Shit. I didn’t want her to cry.

She swiped at her eyes, and panic seized me. What a way to end the night.

But she wasn’t crying.

When she turned my way, I realized that she was laughing—not a little laughing, but full-on stomach shaking, tears-running-down-her-cheeks laughter.

My lips turned up because she was so damn adorable.

“I can’t deny”—broken huffs left her lips—“that I want you.” She cowered into herself, and when she met my eyes, her laughter heightened. “ ‘And I’m sorry’?” She threw up both hands. “What kind of apology is that?”

I laughed then because she was right.

Man, I knew I had it bad because I inched closer even with everything that had happened to us earlier. “Well, it’s your fault really …”

Her eyes narrowed, but amusement was heavy on her face.

Our knees touched, and my smile widened to match hers. “I’m sorry that you’re so damn creative and that I need you to save the company that I probably can’t even save myself. I’m sorry that your artistic ability is out of this world and that I’m honestly jealous. I wish I had an ounce of creative juices in my genes.”

“Well, you know”—she flipped her hair over her shoulder in an exaggerated effect—“not everyone can be like me with my big, fat creative brain.”

I laughed. “But most of all, I’m sorry that I can’t keep my hands to myself—or my eyes obviously. I’m sorry I’m just so attracted to you. I am not joking when I say I don’t recall a time where I’ve felt an attraction this strong for anyone else before.”

Her smile slipped, but I kept on going, trying to keep it light but be serious.

“And I promise you, I won’t touch you or make you feel uncomfortable in my presence. I value our friendship, Charlie. Above all, I want to keep that intact.”

All humor vanished from the limo, and I sucked in a breath, waiting for her response, any response.

“Forgive me?” I added when there was a long stretch of silence between us.

After a beat, her shoulders relaxed, and she bumped her shoulder against mine.

“All’s forgiven.” Her eyebrows scrunched together. “And just because we’re in the oversharing mood, I’ve pictured you having me on your desk multiple times.”

I coughed and choked on my own saliva.

She patted my back and grinned. “But we can’t go there. I can count my sexual partners on one hand.” She lifted two fingers.

I nearly choked again. I mean, seriously, how was this woman still single?

“And I don’t want my third to be with someone who is leaving.”

“Yeah, I get that.” There was a strand of hair over her left brow, and I wanted to brush it away. My fingers itched at my side, so I fisted my hands instead. “And I’ll promise to stop staring, only if you promise to wear baggy jeans all the time and not bounce when you walk. I can’t stop staring at your, ahem …” And now that I knew how they felt in my palms, I wanted—

Stop!

“I do not bounce.”

My eyes flickered to her breasts, which were covered underneath her coat. “You do.”

Her arms crossed over her chest. “Stop staring at my boobs.”

My eyes moved to her face. “See, done.”

“Can we really do this?” she sighed and bit her lip in a nervous gesture. “Be platonic friends when my nipple was in your mouth only hours before?”

My eyes flashed, and I licked my lips. “We have to, right?”

She nodded. “Yes, we have to.”

Charlie

My mother and I went to one of our favorite restaurants, Pasta Scolla. We were seated at a corner booth. I cherished times like this, just the two of us alone, spending quality time together. But my mind kept wandering to what had happened earlier with Connor, to what had transpired between us. There was no way I could go there, not when he was leaving and we had to work together.

“So, how was work today, honey?”

Wasn’t that the loaded question of the day?

“It was interesting …” I began because I couldn’t exactly