He nods, short and sharp. “And what about you?”
I clear my throat. “You were a good hire.”
“Not glowing, but I’ll take it.” He meets my eyes, scrubs a hand over his jaw. “We have a good thing here. Everyone is happy. I don’t want to ruin it fucking around with the boss.”
It makes perfect, logical sense. It’s absolutely correct. But it sticks in my sternum that he has better stamina and more control over our attraction than I appear to. He can resist, whereas I seem to melt whenever he touches me. It’s a blow to my ego, but I’m positive I can get over it.
If he wants professional, I’ll give him professional. “I agree. It won’t happen again.”
Why did I have to climb on top of him? Why? I’m so stupid. First rash action I’ve taken in as long as I can remember, and it has to be withhim.
I raise a brow. “Is that it?”
He studies me, his expression intent. “I suppose it is.”
I pick up a paper on my desk, an article I meant to read but haven’t. “Great. That’s settled then.”
I wait for him to move, but he doesn’t. He just sits there, looking at me.
I keep my attention glued to the words I’m not reading. “Is there something else?”
“Cat.” His voice is soft.
I’m compelled to raise my head. “Yes?”
“I want to set one thing straight.”
“You’ve already made yourself clear.”
Can he just get the hell out of here and leave me in peace? How else can I start working on this whole professional thing and forget how his lips felt against mine? Or how I can still taste him…
He takes a breath and slowly exhales. “You didn’t sexually harass me. I wanted it as much as you did.”
A muscle under my eye twitches. “Again, I apologize for my actions. Let’s just forget about it and start fresh, okay?”
His features flash with something, but I’m not sure what it is. He’s silent for a good thirty seconds, which stretch like an eternity between us, before he nods. “Sounds good. I’d like that.”
“Great.” My voice is far too bright. “Let’s not discuss it again.”
“Glad we cleared the air.”
“Me too.” Now if he would only leave.
Finally, he stands. “Have a good one.”
I offer my most brilliant smile. “You too.”
He vacates my office, leaving the door open so I’m not able to lay my head against my desk. I press my fingers to my temples.
He’s giving me what I want. What’s right. Obviously nothing can come of the attraction. It’s the smart, logical course of action.
Besides, what am I expecting? He works for me. He’s a drifter—a loner with no ties, the last thing I want in a man. Sleeping with him would end badly, and my brothers will kill me if I ruin their businesses because I can’t keep my hormones in check.
This is right; I’m positive of it.
I just wish it didn’t feel like a rejection, like a loss.
I flick the papers in my hand. I’ll get over it.