Page 55 of What Comes Around

He left about ten minutes later.

An hour after that, Knox appeared at my desk.

“I need a revised risk exposure model for the South Ridge deal. Today.”

I turned in my chair and crossed my legs, not missing the way his gaze dipped briefly before snapping back to my face.

I checked the time on my screen. Three hours left in the workday. Not nearly enough.

“I’ll have to stay late,” I said.

“Is that a problem?” he challenged.

My fingers tightened around the armrest of my chair as I looked up at him. “No,” I said evenly.

His mismatched eyes held mine a second longer than necessary. “Good.”

It was already nine in the evening when I finally sent him the South Ridge report.

The floor was silent. Everyone had left for the weekend hours ago. Even Titan had gone home at seven. The lights had dimmed to after-hours mode, the city glowing faintly through the windows.

Just Knox and me.

I had just shut down my computer and started packing my bag when his office door opened.

“I need to see you in my office. Now.”

He turned away immediately, not waiting for an answer.

“Fantastic,” I muttered, straightening my dress before walking in.

He was sitting behind his desk, arms crossed, eyes dark and unreadable.

“Come here,” he said. “Show me where your model accounts for the zoning shift.”

I walked around the desk and stopped beside his chair.

“It’s here,” I said, pointing at the screen.

“I don’t see it.”

I leaned closer to the screen. “There.”

“Show me.”

I braced one hand on the back of his chair and leaned forward to reach for the mouse. As I did, my breasts brushed his arm. I clicked into the chart.

“This variable compensates for—”

His hands tightened on the armrests.

The air shifted.

I felt the moment he noticed. The subtle change in his breathing. The way his body went still beneath me.

I adjusted my grip on the mouse and leaned a fraction closer, slow enough that it couldn’t be mistaken for clumsiness.

The space between us seemed to hum. I was suddenly aware of everything: the warmth of his shoulder, the faint scent of his cologne, the tension coiled in the line of his body.