Page 143 of A Million To Fall

Already the place feels different than it did even just an hour ago when it was nothing but bare furniture taking up room in an otherwise empty apartment. Now it feels like something akin to a home. Carefully-chosen pops of color breathing some much-needed vibrancy into the neutral tones of the walls and carpets, pillows and blankets and other small things absorbing the white noise echoing through the emptiness. And the smell—Skye’s scent, all spring and strawberry—fills the last hollow corners of the apartment, settling somewhere deep in my chest.

“I still can’t believe this is real,” I admit quietly.

Skye’s hand comes to rest on mine, a soft smile painting her pink lips. “It’s real, Boss.”

I swallow, glancing around the room. “I'm not sure I know how to have this.”

“An apartment?” she asks, her thumb grazing back and forth across my knuckles.

“A home.”

Her smile fades, blue eyes moving between mine. And there it is. That thing she does where she looks right past the version of me I let everyone else see and straight into my soul.

“You deserve this,” she says, somehow threading her fingers through mine. It shouldn’t feel like a lightning strike. But it does.

My fingers curl around hers automatically, and I watch her thumb brush along my index finger.

Once.

Twice.

By the third pass of her thumb, my pulse is kicking hard enough to make me dizzy.

Skye’s eyes drop briefly to our joined hands. Then lift back to mine.

Something shifts. The air grows heavier. Charged somehow. Like we’re standing in the middle of a storm waiting for the first crack of thunder.

For a moment, she just looks at me.

Then she scoots closer.

Barely.

An inch.

Maybe less.

But I feel it everywhere.

“Boss,” she breathes.

The way she says my name nearly undoes me.

My eyes move to her mouth—those soft, full lips, still glistening with her lip balm. They part just the slightest bit, her tongue skimming the bottom one. I don’t think she even knows she’s doing it.

She’s always been like this. Unintentional. Unaware of the havoc she wreaks on me just by existing.

I shut my eyes for a moment, forcing an inhale through my nose.

I can feel it—the heat spreading from my chest all throughout my body.

I know I should stop it.

I know she still has a boyfriend.

But knowing and wanting aren’t the same thing.

And fuck, I’m losing the war with myself.