“I, uh,” she stammers, along with the start of a few other words. Her eyes are still wide with surprise, but there’s a spark of something else as well, which matches the flicker of heat I feel in my chest.
“Look, I know this is an unusual situation and an unusual offer. I’m asking you as a friend, not as your boss. Whatever your answer is, it won’t affect either of those relationships.”
I stare deep into her eyes, stressing these final words. Of all the reasons that this is probably a bad idea, the one that scares me the most is losing her—professionally or otherwise.
Margot’s expression shifts, like she’s mulling it over. Weighing the pros and the cons. Compiling an entire spreadsheet of data in her head. I watch her, wondering exactly what she’s thinking. Wondering what her answer will be.
Hoping she says yes.
Instead, she sucks in a choppy breath and doesn’t meet my eyes when she asks quietly, “It’s a nice offer, Ethan, but what would you get out of it?”
The laugh that punches from my chest is purely involuntary. It’s such a ridiculous question.
Margot’s eyes snap up to my face, obviously surprised by my reaction. When I reach for her this time, it’s anything but a small or tentative touch. My hand slides along her jaw, cupping it as my thumb skates over her cheek. “I would get to fuck you, Margot. I would finally get to know how you taste. How you feel. How you look when you’re breathless and messy and completely undone. What else could I possibly want?”
When she casts her eyes downward again, it’s only to hide the way she’s blushing. But I can feel the heat of her flushed skin beneath my thumb and the way her pulse quickens beneath myfingertips. There’s no hiding the way she reacts to me, or the smile it brings to my lips.
“Think about it,” I say, my tone shifting. “Take all the time you need. There’s no rush.”
It’s true. I’ll wait however long she needs. If we do this, I want her to be sure about it.
Margot opens her mouth to speak, but she’s cut off by the loud boom overhead. She jumps, looking up just as the first firework’s red and gold tendrils bloom above us. Another one follows, painting the dark sky with bursts of color and light.
Her brows furrow. “They’ve never done fireworks here before.”
I shrug, pretending to be just as surprised. “Weird.”
Margot turns slowly back to me, eyes narrowed. “Ethan.”
“Margot.” I copy her stern tone.
“Did you do this?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, but my smile gives me away.
She shakes her head playfully. “Such a liar.”
“Anything for my favorite smartass.”
A smile widens on Margot’s lips as she looks back up at the sky, now fully alight with streams of color. There’s no space left between us, so when Margot leans into my side, I wrap my arm around her shoulders. We both stare up at the sky, lost in the familiar, comfortable silence.
19
Margot
Methodical. Analytical. Scrupulous. People have used all three words to describe me. But right now, I’m feeling wild and reckless with a resoundingYes!to Ethan’s proposition burning on the tip of my tongue.
Is it smart to sleep with my boss? Probably not.
Could it potentially lead to a whole lot of trouble? Definitely.
Am I likely to catch feelings for a man who will never truly be mine? Yes, but let’s be honest, those feelings are already there.
No matter how much I try to tell myself otherwise, feelings that are far more than friendly have already taken root deep in my chest. But because I’m still a sensible person, I keep them unfed, unwatered, and strictly out of direct sunlight so they don’t grow. How much could this one little ray of sunshine really hurt?
Potentially a lot, you idiot!Methodical, analytical Margot screams from the depths of my brain. But I’m working on banishing negative self-talk, so I ignore her completely.
The heavy thud of Ethan’s footsteps follows me up the stairs to my apartment. My pulse is racing, and my hands are shaking as we reach the landing. I fish around in my purse, through a pileof small stuffed animals that Ethan won for me, to find my keys. He lingers behind me as I slide my key into the lock. I draw this process out as much as possible, trying to gather the courage to say the words out loud.