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I kiss her softly, tentatively, testing the waters. I don’t deepen the kiss on purpose, pulling back as I peel her off the wall.
“Has anyone ever told you your lips are utterly divine?” She smiles.
I link her fingers through mine. “Nobody has ever put it quite like that,” I chuckle.
She has a way with words that sends electricity running through me. I hang onto every word, like it’s my lifeline.
If she didn’t want to see me tonight, I don’t know what I’d fucking do.
One hour later
“I picked up some Chinese,” I say, dumping the bags on the kitchen table.
She’s changed into a Seattle Seahawks hoodie and gray sweatpants. She looks adorable with no makeup and her hair slung up in a messy bun.
Seriously, Imogen could wear a paper bag and I’d be all in.
She gives me a little smile and I want to press her with what’s on her mind, then I stop myself. I tend to have this habit of being CEO outside the office. In this scenario, this is her home, and I want her to feel like she can say and do what she wants. If she wants to talk or ask me anything, then she can.
“I’m starving.” She rummages around in the cupboards until she finds us two bowls.
I can’t help but come behind her when she starts putting the food into each bowl, my hands at her hips.
“I’m glad we’re doing this,” I say.
“It’s like a mini-housewarming.” She sounds happier.
“What did Ariana say?” Okay, so that’s asking questions, but I know she would’ve told her friend why she’s packing her bags.
She stills for a moment. “She’s happy for me, but concerned, as all good friends should be. She doesn't want me to get hurt.”
I frown. I’m not going to hurt her, I never would. Not intentionally. But I also see where Ariana is coming from.
I run my nose up her neck as she wiggles her butt back against me. “I’m not going to do that.”
“She’s concerned about the work thing, too.”
“Does she know I’m the guy from Endeavors?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say about that?”
“She was surprised, obviously. If I wasn’t working for you, maybe it wouldn’t be so… awkward.”
I don’t want that. I want her with me at all times.
“So do you want to pass the job up?”
“Would we still be getting to know one another?”
“Yes.” I spin her around to face me. “Do you really think that I’d not see you again if you turned the job down? I don’t give a fuck about that. Obviously, I want to see you every day and fucking touch you when I want to, that’s a given. But I know what this job means to you. If anything, it should be me that stays away from you.”
She clutches onto my shirt. I changed into a long-sleeved top and sweats. It’s like we’re a fucking old married couple, not two people who barely know one another.
“By going back to New York?”
“Like I said, I’m going to be here, I won’t lie about the fact I live in New York. At some point, I’ll be going back. But it isn’t what you think.”
