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I blew out a heavy sigh as I leaned back in my chair, closing my eyes for a few moments. I had about ten more emails I needed to respond to, along with about seven ad spreads that needed my approval for our other client projects. But for just a moment, I wanted to breathe—
“Brynn,” Weston’s voice startled me out of my moment of calm, and I jolted in my chair.
“What?” I snapped without really meaning to, but God, the man had done this almost eight times today.
He titled his head at my tone, and stepped into my office, shutting the door behind him. “Is there a reason you’re angry with me?”
I sighed, flashing him an apologetic look. “You scared me,” I explained. “I didn’t mean to snap.”
Weston cocked a brow at me as he rounded my desk and leaned against the edge of it. “Were you meditating?”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Just breathing,” I said, then grinned up at him. “Something you’ve been doing a lot of today.”
Weston furrowed his brow, and I hated, absolutelyhatedit when he gave me that look. The curious, he-had-no-idea-what-I-meant look. It quite possibly made him about ten times more handsome than he already was, and when he was six foot three with a muscled frame and the richest chocolate eyes out of anyone else in the world, he didn’t need any more help in that department.
“Breathing down my neck,” I finally finished my tease.
Weston’s full lips popped open. “I have not—”
“Yousohave,” I cut him off. “I get it, Weston,” I said, moving out of my chair to stand in front of him. “I really do. This is a big change, but I’ve been shadowing you for years. I’ve watched you make million-dollar deals before brunch countless times. Plus, with my degree, I’m not going to let you down. You have to trust me.”
He shifted against the desk, reaching for my hand. I slipped it into his, the motion easy, effortless, and something we’d done a thousand times before.
But every time it had the same effect on me—my lungs tightened, my skin flushed, and a blinding need flared in my core.
Weston had touched me like this too many times to count because we were friends, not to mention we were almost always together. There were about a hundred different reasons for him to grab my hand—to help me out of a car or to guide me through a crowd—he’d just never touched me in the way I’d always dreamed about.
And that was agoodthing. Our lives were too entangled. Crossing any one of those lines would send us spiraling into a ruin we surely wouldn’t make it back from. Besides, he had women like Lena constantly vying for a coveted spot on his arm.
He smoothed his thumb over the back of my hand, and the innocent touch sent a jolt of electricity straight down my spine. God, I couldn’t help but wonder what else could those hands do?
“I’m sorry I was breathing down your neck,” he finally said. “I’m not used to…”
“To having me run anything other than your schedule?” I asked when he didn’t finish.
His eyes met mine, and damn him, the look he gave me was hard to breathe around. “I’m not used to being away from you all day.”
I swallowed hard, my heart pounding. He kept doing that thing with his thumb against my hand, and it made my mind whirl with of fantasies about where else he could stroke my skin.
Stop! He’s your boss. And your oldest friend.
I pulled my hand back, trying to laugh away the tension making my body tight. I pretended to clear up some things on my desk, literally just shifting my tablet and some pens to the other side of it. Anything to give me space to breathe in air that wasn’t drenched in his intoxicating scent.
“Figured you’d enjoy the reprieve,” I said.
He watched me shift around the items on my desk, eyes calculating. “I don’t like it,” he said, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Poor Mr. Rutherford, not used to not getting his way,” I teased.
“Cut that shit out too,” he grumbled, shaking his head. “What’s with theMr. Rutherfordcrap? You’ve known me since we were drinking out of solo cups and avoiding my family’s politician guests at parties.”
I pressed my lips together, and bit back another laugh. “I don’t know,” I said. “It felt right to address you like that in front of the team. The last thing I need is someone thinking I was handed this position because we’re friends.” I cringed. “Well, that or what the truth actually is…that I was handed this position because you lost a bet.”
Weston hissed, then pushed off the desk, stopping only a breath away from me. “I should’ve offered it to you the second I bought the place. Hell, before I bought it,” he said, eyes intently on mine as he looked down at me. “And not because you’re my friend or even because you’re my assistant, but because you’re brilliant.”
Emotion climbed up my throat, and I tipped my chin to hold his gaze. “Then why didn’t you?”
Sure, I’d kept the masters portion of my degree to myself, but he’d always known my passion was marketing.
