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“Me not loving you.” I step toward her. My gaze is unwavering, making sure I have her undivided attention. “Could I have done things differently? Absolutely. I should have treated you better at work all these years—given you promotions, not demanded your time every second of every day, and made sure you knew how important you were to the company—to me. And I know it was wrong of me to read that letter without your permission. I might not be able to change the past, but I’m determined to do what it takes to prove how much you mean to me. Despite everything I’ve done, nothing has stopped me from falling irrevocably in love with you.”
“You don’t know me that well. How can you be in love with me?” she says with confusion.
How can she possibly think that I don’t know her after all this time? I try to contain my smugness as I raise my chin and look her in the eyes, ready to prove her wrong.
“Your favorite color is lemonade pink—not magenta, not fuchsia, lemonade. You hate raw tomatoes, have an unhealthy obsession with seasonal coffee creamers, and you keep a jar of pink and red Starbursts in the top drawer of your desk. Every Tuesday, you wear your lucky black pencil skirt—the same one you wore to your job interview. And when you’re nervous you play with the charm bracelet on your left wrist. You send all my employees generous birthday gifts and say they’re from me, even though you use your own money because you think I’d say no if you asked me to pay for them. You’ve taken Gary the Doorman to lunch every Friday since his wife passed away last year. And despite your apartment being twenty minutes from the office, you walk to and from work because you like to immerse yourself in the sights and sounds of the city.”
I close the remaining distance between us.
“I’ve spent the past three years paying attention to every last detail where you’re concerned. Not out of obligation, but because you genuinely matter to me.”
Tears spill down her cheeks, and I don’t hesitate to wipe them away with my thumbs.
“I’ll do anything to make you happy,” I promise her. “If you want to leave Sinclair Group, I’ll give you a glowing reference. Or if you want to move to another department, say the word and I’ll arrange it. What I can’t do is pretend this never happened.” I motion between us. “What I feel for you is real, and I refuse to act like it doesn’t mean anything when, in truth, it means everything.”
“You invaded my privacy,” she reminds me.
“I did,” I acknowledge. “I’m sorry. I would take it back if I could.”
“You've treated me with disrespect and acted like I was inconsequential to you.”
“I know,” I say with regret. “At the time, I thought I was doing the right thing by keeping my distance but I was wrong. I can assure you that will never happen again.” I wrap my arm around her waist, drawing her closer so our mouths are only inches apart.
“You strong-armed your way into coming home with me and pretended to be my boyfriend.”
“I have no regrets on that front,” I reply with a smirk, trailing my fingers along her arm in teasing strokes, patiently waiting for her reply.
“I don’t want to leave Sinclair Group,” she assures me. “However, I would like to be considered for a transfer to the marketing department.”
“Anything you want, baby.”
“There’s an opening for an entry-level associate position. I want to start there and work my way up. I don’t want any special treatment just because we’re dating.”
“We’re officially an item now, huh?” A smile tugs at my lips.
Please say yes.
“I should say no,” she says honestly. “The logical thing would be to try to go back to how things were between us before and keep things strictly professional.”
“But?” I encourage her to continue.
“But… I can’t do that.”
“Why is that, Presley?”
“Because I think I love you too.” Her confession comes out as a whisper.
“Thank god, or I might have resorted to squatting outside your bedroom door until you agreed to forgive me.”
“Watch your language, Mr. Sinclair,” she scolds. “That’s no way for a CEO to talk.”
“Then it’s a good thing we’re not in the boardroom, isn’t it?”
“It’s a very good thing, because otherwise I wouldn’t be able to do this.” Her voice is smooth, like melted caramel.
She rises onto her tiptoes, slanting her mouth across mine. Her kiss starts soft and sweet, quickly transforming into an electric surge as she slips her tongue past my lips. Her lithe body is flush with mine, as she explores my mouth while she demands as much as she gives, providing us both what we crave.
“Jack,” she mewls. “More. I want more.”
