His other hand lifts, and for one suspended second, I think he might touch me. His fingers hover, close enough that I can feel the heat of him before his arm falls back to his side.
My mouth dries as I pull my hand away. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep.”
The apology feels inadequate, too small for the weight of what just passed between us.
He shakes his head once. “Don’t be. I appreciate you saying all that. It means a lot.” His voice is steady, but there’s something underneath it, as if he’s choosing every word carefully.
The space between us feels different now, charged in a way it wasn’t before, and I suddenly notice how close his thigh is to mine. My gaze drifts to his chest, and I can’t help wondering what it would feel like beneath my palm.
It startles me how easily this moment could turn into more if either of us moved even an inch closer. The thought alone sends goose bumps prickling over my skin.
His gaze flicks to my mouth before returning to my eyes. Even though the moment passes almost as quickly as it came, the tension continues to linger, stretched thin and impossible to ignore.
He watches every movement as I swallow and shift my weight, unsure where we go from here.
“You should probably get some sleep,” he says, voice rough.
The words are practical.
Sensible.
Even necessary.
I nod but don’t move a muscle otherwise.
How can I when I’m frozen in place?
18
Laiken
Our gazes continue to cling. There are at least a thousand reasons why I should pull back and put an end to what’s happening here.
Kia now lives under my roof and is taking care of my daughter.
For fuck’s sake, she’s Oliver’s little sister.
Not only is this reckless, it’s dangerous.
A mistake waiting to explode in my face.
And yet, sitting here with her in the quiet, I can’t remember any of the reasons clearly enough for them to matter.
My attention drifts back to her mouth. I’ve been trying not to notice how pink and full her lips are since I first laid eyes on her. I’ve done my best not to acknowledge how plush they look. Or how easy it is to imagine what they’d feel like beneath mine.
That curiosity should have died the moment she agreed to work for me. Instead, it’s only gotten worse. Like an itch beneath my skin I can’t quite scratch. This woman is gradually starting to occupy every waking thought.
Not once does she break eye contact.
It would be so much easier if she did.
I feel the way her breath shifts more than hear it as the space between us shrinks inch by inch until I don’t remember consciously crossing it. When the couch creaks beneath our weight, it sounds more like a gunshot in the silence of the penthouse.
My tongue darts out to moisten my lips. “Kia…” Unsure what to say, I trail off.
We can’t do this.
It’s a mistake.
