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“Yes, you do.” He shifts around his desk, lowering into the chair—a wordless dismissal. “Have a proposal to me for the K-9 training by the end of the week.” Translation: Thursday evening for review on Friday morning. “I look forward to reviewing the plan.” He lifts the file on his desk and opens the folder, dropping his gaze and skimming the pages—his silent way of saying, “see yourself out and shut the door behind you.”
“Yes, sir.”
Thrilled as I am to take on the task, to finally be seen by my father as worthy, even if only for a moment, unease courses through my veins. And I hate that he harnesses this level of power over me and my future.
If I don’t get this right, if Ifailas an Emerson because of this project, I will never earn the respect I so desperately crave from him.
Smoky maple wafts in the air as Kirsten sets my breakfast on my placemat, snapping me back to the present.
I blink a few times and lift my gaze to hers, a halfhearted smile on my lips. “Thank you.”
She tilts her head to the side as her spellbinding eyes trace over every ridge, curve, and peak of my face. Her inspection heats my blood. Awakens the passion in my veins. Calls to the hidden cravings in my bones. I come alive under her observation.
“Everything okay?” She breaks eye contact, reaches for the coffee pot, and fills my mug.
Loaded question.
“Yeah.” I shrug. “Work stuff.”
With a sympathetic smile on her lips, she nods. “Whatever it is, I’m confident you’ll be great.” She lays her hand over mine on the counter.
How does she do it? Find the right words in the moment. Touch me in the simplest way and blanket me with ease. Hold me with those magnetic, stormy-blue eyes and make the world disappear.
My thumb brushes over hers and she sucks in a breath. The cacophony around us fades, the room and everyone in it blurring as we lock ourselves in this mini bubble. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips and my eyes zero in on the action, my cock swelling as my mind drifts to all the things I’d love to do to her mouth.
Ding, ding, ding.
The bubble pops as Max rings the service window bell. Kirsten blinks as she pulls her hand away. While the heat of her touch fades, the buzz on my skin remains.
“That’s me,” she whispers, then clears her throat. “Be back in a few.”
I unravel my silverware while she loads up two trays with several plates. Oliver sidles up to her and offers to help. As they deliver food, I dig into my own breakfast.
Salty bacon with a hint of maple hits my tongue and I moan. I could make breakfast at home any day, but it would never taste this good. And as much as I love Pepper, she’s not the only woman I love seeing in the morning.
As I swallow the bite, I glance over my shoulder at Kirsten. I shove the rest of the bacon strip in my mouth and watch as she smiles at the construction crew, handing them their plates. When she calls out an order, a man with curly black hair and tan skin holds his hand up. She moves around the table and hands him the plate.
His body language shifts as she moves back to the tray, his head tilting to the side as a Vforms between his brows.
Who is this guy? And why the hell is he studying her so fucking hard?
She hands him a second, smaller plate and he grabs her wrist. I drop my fork and spin on my seat, my feet on the floor, ready to charge if this asshole tries anything.
Her eyes drop to his grip on her wrist, worry etching her expression. She lifts her gaze, opens her mouth to say something, then freezes.
Does she know him?
“Sparkles?” His head tilts the other way, a subtle smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “Is that you?”
The buzz I felt moments ago vanishes. In its place… fire and rage and the sudden desire to hit something.
SIX
KIRSTEN
“Sparkles?”
I stare at the man with black curls, turquoise eyes, and a soft smile as he tilts his head. Open my mouth, then clamp it shut, lost for words.
