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“I wouldn’t, Mr. Stone,” I replied. I meant it with every fiber of my being. Getting another round or two in with Colton before our time came to an end wouldn’t end in emotional disaster.

I glanced down at my watch and realized far more time had passed than I’d thought. Sleep was inevitable—and necessary—if I had any hope of functioning tomorrow.

In just a couple of days, Colton and I were leaving for Wyoming, and there were still tasks to wrap up before we hit the road. The thought added to the weight pressing on my tired body.

Standing, I stretched my arms above my head, feeling the tension in my muscles ease slightly. When I looked down, Colton was still seated, his gaze lifting to meet mine. His eyes were heavy-lidded, softened by the late hour, and for a fleeting moment, the gruffness he carried seemed to melt away.

“I’m going to head to bed,” I said quietly, the words feeling a bit more intimate than they should.

“Yeah, me too.” He rose to his feet, his presence instantly filling the space between us. We were close now, inches apart, and I had to tilt my head back to look up at him. His height had always been imposing, but now, under the glow of the night, it felt comfortable instead.

“Good night, Eleanor,” he murmured, his deep voice brushing against the edges of my composure.

“Good night, Colton.” My voice was soft, almost a whisper, as if saying it too loud would break whatever fragile moment hung between us.

For a brief second, neither of us moved. Then, with a slow nod, he turned, leaving me to navigate the strange pull I felt lingering in the air.

Chapter 14

Colton

I’D KEPT MY distance from Eleanor since running into her last night, retreating into my usual grumpy solitude. Something stirred in me—something I couldn’t quite name or accept. My guard, usually solid, had softened in her presence. When people pried into my past, I usually shut them down without a second thought. But with Eleanor, I found myself open and willing—two traits that had never described me before.

My emotions were tangled, my thoughts restless. And then there was the image I couldn’t shake—Eleanor, tied up, completely at my mercy. The memory alone was enough to send heat coursing through me, an uncomfortable distraction I didn’t want but couldn’t escape.

Sitting at my desk, on a call with my accountant, my thoughts betrayed me, veering back to her. The idea of people hearing us, catching us in the act, was a twisted thrill I hadn’t anticipated. I was possessive by nature—what was mine was mine. And though I hated the idea of sharing her, the notion of others knowing exactly how I made her feel stirred something primal in me. They’d see it, and they’d know she was mine.

A growl of frustration rumbled low in my throat. Focus.

“Just give me the dumbed-down version, Wes. I pay you to know and understand the intricate bullshit,” I barked into the phone, forcing my attention back to the conversation. Anything was better than being trapped in the web of my own dangerous thoughts about Eleanor.

Like she’d been summoned, my office door flung open and slammed shut with a force that echoed through the room. Eleanor strode in, dressed in one of those tight dresses and heels that made her look like she owned the world.

The sharp click of her heels on the wood floor filled the space, drowning out Wes’s voice on the phone. My mind, my body, was instantly aware of her.

Without hesitation, she marched up to my desk and pressed the button on the receiver, cutting off my call mid-conversation. My jaw clenched, and anger surged through me like a tidal wave.

The odd moments last night, when I felt calmer in her presence, had completely gone out the window.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I growled. “You just come in here, hang up my phone, in my office?”

People from the city clearly didn’t understand boundaries.

Eleanor didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink at my outburst. Instead, she leaned against the edge of my desk, one hand flat on the surface, the other resting on her hip as she tilted her head slightly. “I needed to talk to you,” she said, her tone calm but resolute.

“A simple ‘excuse me’ would’ve worked just fine,” I snapped, my blood boiling, every nerve on edge.

She leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper that sent shivers down my spine. “Something tells me it wouldn’t.”

I narrowed my eyes, ready for a fight. I needed to channel these pent-up emotions, and she was an easy target. I knew my anger would hit her, but she’d brush it off, unfazed.

“Take a deep breath and cool it,” she advised, but it did nothing to slow my racing heart or curb the fury.

I plastered on a fake smile, leaning back in my chair with forced ease. My hands clasped over my chest, legs spread wide in a mock display of comfort. “What can I do for you, Miss Stewartt?”

Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she smirked. “That’s hot when you say it like that. No wonder it gets you so worked up. Say it again.”

I rolled my eyes, giving her a pointed look, silently urging her to get on with whatever had brought her barging into my office.