22
Julia
I’m in my office without another backward glance. The walk didn’t help. I’m distracted and on edge. Ken’s warning made me feel icky, like my attraction to Nathaniel made me some vixen trying to take advantage of him. If there was any justice in the world, I could punch him in the face and call it a day.
The power hums just under my skin. Even though I know I can dispel the energy outward, it’s still unpredictable.
I close my office door behind me and take a deep steadying breath. I press my hand to my chest and stand in the middle of the small room, complaining to myself.
My hands hand glow and I ball them up and throw my head back to study the ceiling. “Get it together. Get it together.”
I’m embarrassed at the desire making my bones and breasts feel heavy. I’m at work. I am in an office building in the middle of a workday. Now is not the time for this level of horniness.
But it’s been weeks of wanting him. Even longer, if I’m honest with myself. That kiss feels like a lifetime ago. It made me want to push and test my limits, like I did with my dancing. But it won’t be a plant that dies if I lose control.
There’s a soft knock on my door. I grab the shawl from the back of my chair and wrap it around my shoulders to cover the glow.
“Come in.”
Nathaniel walks in, head bowed. He doesn’t say anything. He just closes the door behind him and leans against it. I don’t say anything either. The air is thick with all the unspent energy between us. My ears ring from all the words we aren’t saying.
His arms are clasped behind him on the door handle. His head remains lowered, brows furrowed as though he’s debating how he got here. As though he might leave any minute. My entire body is tingling. My knees feel like they’re going to give out as I step closer to him. He still doesn’t lift his head, but I know he feels me move closer. His chest rises and falls more quickly. I reach behind him and gently depress the lock.
My body hovers just in front of his as we breathe the same air. Our faces are so close I have to take in his features in pieces. His slightly parted mouth. His bright eyes burning with emotion. Eyebrows twisted with worry. The way his Adam’s apple bobs on a hard swallow.
His smell, his heat, surrounds me. I long to feel him everywhere. The longing is as demanding as hunger or exhaustion. My body is desperate for me to just give in. My core aches to feel his presence. I want his weight on top of me. I want his tongue exploring me. I shudder as a wave of heat pulses through me. He must feel the warmth too, as he tugs at his top button of his collared shirt. A red flush spreads up his neck.
I step back suddenly, separating us by three solid steps. The heat is so strong I won’t be able to fight it.
“I came here to tell you that we need to slow this thing between us.” He’s talking mostly to himself. He’s lifted his head a little so that he’s looking up at me through his dark lashes, torment on his face. “I shouldn’t have come here.”
“But you did,” I whisper.
“I really meant to lock myself in my office.”
I crumble at the honesty in his voice. We know the truth of it. He is giving me the space I need to learn more self-control, but it’s killing both of us. I wrap the shawl closer to my body, my fingers pulling it tightly.
“I understand,” I say.
He shakes his head. “You don’t. I think these things and then I come to you anyway. I’m drawn to you and I can’t seem to help myself.”
I know what he means. No matter how I warn myself away from the danger, deep down I know it won’t end until it’s too late to go back. And deep down I don’t know that I care. I don’t want to stop. But I don’t want to hurt him either.
It’s an impossible choice.
A part of me—the loneliest, most desperate piece of my soul—celebrates that we make each other weak. We push ourselves further and further into uncharted territory just because we want to. We are acting purely for ourselves. For once in our lives. Our desire runs the show and I long to give fully into that.
He makes me feel human. Base. Deliciously selfish.
“You can pretend you did,” I say. “Go back to your office, I mean.”
He looks fully at me. His burning gaze moves up and down my body. It’s like he’s slowly peeling back the layers of clothes.
“What do you mean?” he rasps.
He’s always so easy, so affable. So subtly confident that concerns never even seem to cross his mind. Now he seems … tortured.
I step back behind my desk. The back of my knees bump my office chair.
