“I still need to organize orders and schedule the printers to run all night. I’m sorry I’m so quiet,” she murmurs. “I know I’m not good company like this. I’m honestly just drained.”
Pain lances through me.
She has nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one who pushed her. I’m the one who failed to meet her where she is.
“Don’t ever apologize for being honest with me.” I hover closer, our noses brushing.
When her lips tip up in a smile, I kiss the tip of her nose. Then I sit back, nodding toward her food.
“Please eat. I won’t ask any more questions or make another peep tonight if that’s what you need.”
She side-eyes me, skepticism written all over her face, but eventually sits back and picks up her fork again.
Once we’re both done, I hop up to take care of the dishes and Evangeline gets to work but stays seated at the bar. Her brows knit together in concentration as she taps away at her laptop, then her phone.
Thankfully, she’s so focused she doesn’t notice me constantly stealing glances. I’m practically moving in slow motion, prolonging the night.
Her lips are still painted red, all her makeup intact from her live.
Every time she catches her lip between her teeth, memories of the elevator infiltrate my thoughts, testing my impulse control. I smudged her makeup once this week already. What I wouldn’t give to mess it up again now.
With her attention still focused on the screen before her, she mutters, “You know I can feel you watching me, right?”
Shit.
Nope. I didn’t realize I was being that obvious.
“Does it bother you?” I ask.
She peeks up, a twinkle in her eye accompanied by the tiniest hint of a smirk. “Botherisn’t the right word.”
Excitement zips through me. I set down the pan I’ve been hand-drying for over a minute and stalk around the island.
With her focus fixed on me, she spins on her stool.
I position myself between her parted legs and place my palm on her cheek like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Despite the newness, every interaction with her is natural.
“What’s the right word then, angel?”
Lashes fluttering, she leans into my touch. “I don’t know. Maybe… distracting? Beguiling? Or tempting?”
“Tempting?” I inch closer.
Her entire existence is my greatest temptation. Being in her orbit forces me to live in a state of constant self-restraint.
“Dangerously tempting.” She draws out each word, slowly craning back, putting space between us.
Still trapped in her orbit, I sway forward, erasing the distance, hovering mere inches from her face. We’re so close now I can smell the sweet honey scent of her bath products.
Thumb and forefinger on her chin, I tip her face up until the two of us are sharing breath.
“There’s a famous quote about temptation,” I rasp. “I think it goes something like ‘The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it.’”
Her eyes go wide. “That… is not very good advice.” She laughs, planting one hand on my chest and pushing me back slightly.
Begrudgingly, I take a step back.
“I never said it was good advice.” I shrug. “Oscar Wilde said it, I believe. Not exactly a beacon of wisdom.” With a shake of my head, I clear my thoughts, then take a second step away.
