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I kissed her neck, smelling the scent of her shampoo and that intoxicating, indefinable aroma her skin always had. She let out a little moan, leaning into me and running her hand through my hair.
“I think I love you.” I hadn’t planned to say the words. I hadn’t even dwelled on the fact that I hadn’t told her I loved her before. But the moment I heard it aloud, I felt each syllable like it was sinking deep into my chest.
She turned her head, eyes searching mine. “You’d better know if you’re going to start throwing around statements like that.”
I grinned. “I do. I love you, because if I didn’t, there’s no way I would be able to put up with you.”
She swatted at me but closed her eyes and leaned into my shoulder. “Yeah, well, the feeling’s mutual.”
“You’d better say it,” I warned. I stood, picking her up with me. “It’s a long way down.”
Chelsea widened her eyes, laughing. “You absolutely would not throw me to my death. It won’t count if I’m only saying I love you to save my life.”
“Say it,” I warned, inching closer to the edge.
In a robotic voice, Chelsea said, “I. Love. You.”
She tickled my armpits, which was a weakness she’d unfortunately discovered, and wormed her way out of my grasp. She stopped at the sliding door and gave me a taunting smile. “There’s something I want to tell you, but I have to ask for a favor first.”
“What?”
“You need to say, ‘I am a grumpy butthole and I only recently took some of the stick out of my ass.’”
“Why would you want or need me to say that?”
“It will be therapeutic. Now say it.”
I glared.
“Okay, fine. Just tell me you love me again. But if you say you think you love me I’m going to throw you off the balcony. So choose your words carefully.”
“I love you, Chelsea. Even though I—”
She stepped toward me and pressed her fingers to my mouth. “Nope. Stop while you’re ahead. And I love you too, you grumpy asshole.” She pulled her hands back and kissed me. “Even though…”
I picked her up, interrupting whatever she’d been about to say with her laughter.40Epilogue - ChelseaI ran my hands across my shiny new desk, smiling. There was even a nameplate on my desk that read: Chelsea Cross - Agent.
That’s right, bitch. I was an agent now. Certifiably badass. Top of the food chain. The—
My door swung open. Daria stuck her head in, gave me a look like she knew whatever I was thinking was dumb, and cleared her throat. “Wow,” she said dryly. “Look at you riding that dick all the way to the top.”
If I hadn’t gotten to know Daria by now, I might’ve hurled something at her head for that. Instead, I was smiling. “And what a ride it was.”
That earned me a faint smile from Daria. “Your little friend is here. Pathetic, by the way. You made her come just to show off your new office, didn’t you?”
“No comment. Send her in, please.”
Daria rolled her eyes, then closed my door.
A few moments later, Milly walked into my office. She wasn’t wearing athletic gear for a change, which either meant her training session today was much later at night or she’d done it super early this morning. She quickly pulled her hair up in a ponytail and sat down across from my desk, taking in the space. “Very fancy.”
“I know. Watch this.” I pulled a latch on the front of my desk and stood, lifting the top of my desk up to standing height. It clicked firmly into place. I leaned my elbows on it, smiled, then crashed down when the latch gave out under my weight.
Milly laughed at me. “Wow, Really cool. If you’re ever choking in here alone, I’m sure you could use that to propel a hotdog out of your throat.”
“Ass,” I said, rubbing my chin.
“Then again, you’re more of a hotdog in the throat kind of girl, aren’t you?”
I balled up a paper from my notepad and tossed it at her. “Is everyone trying to call me some kind of hoe this morning? Did I miss a memo?”
“Sorry, you just make it too fun to tease. But I am proud of you. Seriously, girl. Look at where you are and think about where you came from. You kicked ass. And you deserve it.”
“Thank you. And for the record, I am a hotdog in the mouth kind of girl.”
We both laughed, then Chris stuck his head in my office. “Hey,” he said. “Is Damon around?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Shit,” Chris said. He pulled his head out of any door and ran toward the elevators.
Milly tilted her head at me. “What was that about?”
“With Chris, your guess is as good as mine. He’s probably in some fresh trouble.”
Before I packed up my things to leave the office, Damon slipped in through my door. He planted his hands on my desk and glared down at me. I made the mistake of telling him a few weeks ago that I’d gotten wet from the sight of that glare alone more than a few times, and now he had weaponized it.
