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“I’ll keep it off the record unless there’s something else about your personal life you’d like me to highlight.”
He shakes his head. “No. I’m good.”
“How are we going to do this?” I ask quietly.
“We fight whatever’s going on inside and we act professional.” His voice is low, nearly a confession as he speaks his words.
“What are you fighting?” My stomach flips as I ask the question.
His eyes flick to my mouth before moving back to my eyes. “The same thing you are.” His voice is low and raspy, and my thighs clench together.
“Spell it out for me, Mr. Nash.”
He clears his throat. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re fighting first?”
I shake my head, and I force my eyes away from his. “It’s too dangerous.”
“You think I don’t know that? I just came from a weekend with my family where my father took the time to remind me how I need to stay away from you.”
I reel back a little like he struck me even though he didn’t. It wasn’t a physical blow, anyway. “Twenty years later and you’re still doing what he tells you,” I murmur.
“What do you want me to do, Jolene?” he roars at me, his voice thundering through the lobby.
I don’t have an answer to that.
“I didn’t have a choice back then, and I don’t have a choice now!” He’s still yelling, and seeing him get all fired up is somehow…sexy as fuck.
I want him. It’s forbidden. It’s wrong. It’s the worst thing I can do. We’d be putting both our careers in jeopardy, and our families would never understand the absolute and total betrayal.
But I can’t help how I feel.
I never stopped loving him, and I’m so goddamn tired of pretending like I have, particularly when my new job requires me to be in close proximity to him.
He turns to walk away, and I stop him with my words as my own temper grabs hold.
“Does it matter what I want, then? You’ve already made up your mind!”
He freezes in place and turns slowly around, his eyes finally landing on me. But now they’re hard and fierce, nearly black in the dark lighting in here. “What either of us wanted back then—what we want now…no.” He shakes his head, his voice low again but filled with despondency as his eyes shift down to the ground. “It’s never mattered.”
“What do you want, Lincoln?” I whisper as heat pinches behind my eyes.
His eyes lift to mine again, and he takes a step toward me. “You.” He closes the gap until he’s standing right in front of me, close enough that I can feel the heat coming off him. I think he’s going to take advantage of the opportunity he missed in that break room when he didn’t kiss me when he says, “It’s always been you. But it can’t be. There’s too much at stake now.”
We face off in the dimly lit lobby, and I’m shocked when he reaches out a hand and grips onto my bicep. He yanks me toward him until I nearly fall into his chest, and I tilt my head up as I stop myself with my hands on his chest.
His rock-hard, solid chest.
Holy hell.
Was he that solid back in high school?
He certainly is now.
His hand moves from my arm to my hip, and the other one moves up into my hair.
“What are you doing?” I murmur.
“What I should have done in the break room. What I’ve wanted to do since I saw you out the window when I was here for my interview.” With those words, his mouth comes crashing down to mine.
