But I’m wound so tight I feel like I might shatter.
Suddenly, my senses prickle and I know Leo’s nearby. The air changes somehow and gets charged with this electricity that makes my skin feel too tight.
I look up from my book, and there he is.
Leo is standing at the edge of the garden, maybe fifteen feet away, just…watching me. He’s dressed in dark pants and a light blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and even from this distance I can see he looks tired. There are shadows under his eyes that weren’t there three days ago, and his hair is slightly mussed like he’s been running his hands through it.
But god, he’s so handsome it’s unfair.
That’s the thing that kills me. Even now, even pissed off as I am, I can’t stop my body’s reaction to him. My breath catches and heat pools low in my stomach when I look at him. His dark brown hair is catching the sunlight, and I can see the amber flecks in his eyes even from here. His jaw is stubbled because he clearly hasn’t shaved in a couple days, and all I can think about is how that stubble felt against my neck when he kissed down my throat.
How his mouth felt on mine. Hot and demanding and perfect.
How he felt inside me. The stretch, the fullness, the way he filled me so completely that I could still feel him hours later.
My whole body flushes with the memory, heat rushing through me that has nothing to do with the sun. My toes curl in my shoes and I have to press my thighs together because just looking at him and remembering is doing things to me that are extremely inappropriate for a garden in broad daylight.
“Hey, Emma,” Leo says in a low voice.
I close my book carefully, not trusting myself to speak yet because I’m afraid what will come out will be either rage or want or some combination of both that won’t make any sense.
“Well look who finally showed up,” I say sarcastically.
Leo winces and takes a few steps closer, his hands in his pockets, before he schools his expression. “We should?—”
“Talk?” I interrupt, finding my voice and letting all my anger seep into it. “Yeah, we should. We should have talked about it three days ago, but you’ve been too busy running away.”
Leo’s jaw tightens. “I wasn’t running away. I had meetings.”
“Bullshit,” I say flatly. “You’ve been avoiding me. Rosa told me you left early in the morning and didn’t come back until late at night. You’ve been hiding from me in your own house.”
“I haven’t been hiding,” Leo argues, but he won’t quite meet my eyes.
“You have,” I insist, setting my book aside and standing up. “Because you’re a coward who can’t handle the fact that we had sex.”
Leo flinches slightly at the word. “We shouldn’t talk about this out here,” he says quietly, his eyes darting around.
“Why not?” I challenge. Is he ashamed of me? “Afraid someone might hear? Afraid you might have to actually acknowledge what happened?”
Leo sighs heavily and looks up at the sky as if it holds all the answers.
“Are we going to talk about it?” I demand, crossing my arms. “Or are you going to keep pretending it didn’t happen?”
He’s quiet for a long moment, and I can see the war playing out across his face—the desire to flee versus the knowledge that he can’t keep running forever. Finally, he moves to the bench and sits down, his posture rigid.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” he says, and his voice is flat and emotionless. I want to fucking deck him.
“Nothing to talk about,” I repeat, and I’m surprised by how steady my voice is when I’m shaking with anger inside. “We had sex on your desk and there’s nothing to talk about.” I stare at him in disbelief, noting how he refuses to look at me. “Is that really what you’re going with?”
Leo’s hands clench on his knees. “It shouldn’t have happened,” he bites out.
“But it did happen,” I say, moving closer until I’m standing right in front of him.Look at me, dammit!“And calling it a mistake doesn’t change that.”
“It was a mistake,” Leo insists, finally looking up at me, and his dark eyes look tortured. “We crossed a line that?—”
“You’re a liar,” I interrupt, and I watch his eyes flash with surprise. “You’re lying to yourself and you’re lying to me. That wasn’t a mistake and you know it.”
Leo runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “Emma, the power dynamic alone is problematic,” he argues.