“No,why?” I demand, sounding whiny and needy.
Honestly, who even gives a fuck?
My hands feel empty now that I’m not touching him, and my lips are lonely.
When he opens his eyes, the glasses can’t hide how that sweet caramel shines through, completely absent of annoyance. I know he doesn’t mind me showing my hand either.
No he does not.
Instead, the corner of his lips twitches with a smile he’s obviously trying to tamp down.
“We can’t, Chase.”
The immediate “Yes we can” I want to blurt out gets lost in time when his choice of words registers.
Can’t.
“Why?”
His hands drop slowly as his chest rises and falls with a full breath. That smile finally appears, but it’s more grateful than amused, like he’s thankful that I’m not bulldozing my way through.
I don’t know how I feel about the fact that maybe he expected me to, but now’s not the time to figure that out.
“There’s a company-wide policy about fraternizing with clients, even with the authors contracted to other agents, but especiallyyour ownclients. I can’t risk my career for a fling, Chase. That’s why I pulled back in the elevator.”
I tamp down my annoyance.
Not only at him talking about us like that even when we haven’t—when he hasn’t allowed us to have a conversation about it, or the mention of that awful moment in the elevator, but I’m also frustrated with my own reaction to how apologetic he looks and sounds.
So gentle with his voice, so soft with his eyes.
It pushes me past the line, if I’m honest, and though I never thought of him as anything close to afling, I still wasn’t ready forthis.
This much feeling.
This much desire, frustration,wanting.
No. Focus.
“So why do you work there?” I get right to it.
He shifts on his feet and pushes his glasses up his nose even though they’re perfectly placed.
“To start, they gave me a job right after I graduated from my masters even though all my experience was in antique books. They’ve taught me a lot. Also, I’m not a big enough name in the industry to go it alone, or even to go looking for other agencies.”
I nod, understanding.
“You’re loyal to them,” I surmise.
“I am,” he says simply.
“They don’t seem too loyal to you from what I saw with... that woman.” I huff out a breath. “What was her name?”
In an instant, he’s back, pressed against me wrapping his arms tightly around my middle and resting his cheek against my chest.
“Is it wrong that I love that you don’t remember her name?”
“I don’t think so,” I murmur, hugging him back.