For a guy who liked to keep things simple, he sure was making this difficult.
God help me.
“You are impossible,” I said, propping the phone against a candle. “And you need to stop saying stuff like that.”
His gaze drifted over the visible parts of my shoulders. “I’m being honest.”
His honesty was going to get us in serious trouble. This was the kind of thing that my professor warned me about in my Ethics in Journalism class. If this ever got out, my credibility would be destroyed.
“It’s probably best that you’re in Chicago right now instead of here.”
“I’m tempted to buy you a plane ticket right now.” His blue eyes darkened. “Because this feels really unfair.”
“What feels unfair?”
He leaned in closer to the screen. “You naked in a bubble bath while I’m miles away.”
I narrowed my eyes. “This is how careers go up in flames,” I said, sinking deeper into the water, causing the bubbles to rise to my chin.
“Becca, I respect you too much to let anything happen to your career.”
Those words felt comforting when they should have made me feel the exact opposite. I should have been shutting him down, not giving in.
“You are making this really hard for me,” I admitted, staring up at the light fixture. I wanted the restless mess in my head to go away.
“You probably shouldn’t have answered the call then.”
He was going to get me fired if he didn’t stop.
I shifted again, trying to get comfortable, which I immediately regretted. That little movement allowed more skin to fill the screen.
His gaze dropped. “Are you doing this on purpose?”
I paused, swallowing hard. “Doing what?”
“Playing all innocent and acting like you don’t know what you’re doing, when you know exactly what you’re doing.”
The heat between my legs had nothing to do with the temperature of the bathwater anymore.
“I’m not doing anything on purpose.”
I should stop this, laugh it off, and tell him we will talk when he gets back into town. I knew I should. Instead, I shifted the camera and leaned back against the tub. I sank deeper into the water, letting my arms fall to the side.
“You’re killing me, you know that.”He exhaled in that low, rough, lazy voice of his that made my stomach fill with butterflies.
“We should stop,” I said, as my fingers slid down past my belly. He couldn’t see them, but I bet he knew where they were headed.
This was so unlike me. I didn’t do this. I didn’t do reckless. I didn’t blur lines and do impulsive shit like sit naked in a bathtub with a man who could make my life more complicated than I was prepared for.
“We’re just talking,” he said as I watched his fingers curl into the throw pillow on his lap.
“It’s never just talking with us,” I said, moving my hand back up before I did something stupid that I couldn’t take back.
“So, why are you still on the phone?”
“Probably for the same reason you are.”
Normally, I was careful and had more restraint than this. That was what scared me the most. This connection wasn’t fading, nor was it something I could reason with and make it go away. It wasn’t just flirting anymore. I didn’t know what it was, but it was turning into something messy and inconvenient, and the worst part was that I was starting to care less and less about the consequences.
