Page 53 of Never To Be Mine

The smart thing would be to back off. Give Juno space. Focus on the business and nothing else. Prove to her through my actions that the kiss was just a moment of weakness. That I could be professional. That the partnership could work despite what happened.

But even as I convinced myself, one little fact kept popping into my head.

She had kissed me back.

It hadn’t been completely one-sided.

And we both knew the kiss had been fire and, given the opportunity, there would be another.

17

JUNO

Ipaced around my apartment like a caged animal, my bare feet wearing a path in the hardwood. Back and forth. Back and forth.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss.

My fingers kept finding their way to my lips, tracing where his mouth had been. I could still feel the pressure. That sexy, gentle way he’d cupped my cheek.

Dammit. Of course he would have to be a good kisser.

“This is insane,” I muttered to the empty apartment. “Absolutely insane.”

I should have been mad. I was mad.

He’d kissed me in an elevator. And I’d let him. No, I hadn’t just let him. I’d participated. Enthusiastically.

My face burned at the memory of how I’d grabbed his shoulders, pulled him closer, and made that embarrassing sound when his tongue had slipped into my mouth. God, what was wrong with me?

I grabbed the bottle of wine from the counter, poured myself a generous glass, took a long drink, and sighed. The Pinot Noir slid down smooth and warm, but it did nothing to quiet the chaos in my head. I should have said something on the plane when he attempted to discuss the situation.

Instead, I’d shut him down. Very mature, Juno. Really professional.

I poured another glass and collapsed onto my couch. What would I have said, though?

“Thanks for the kiss, but let’s keep this professional?”

“That was great, let’s never speak of it again?”

“You tasted like chocolate and I hate that I liked it?”

I burst into laughter, sounding a bit like a lunatic. The wine was making my head fuzzy. I should stop. Put the bottle away, drink some water, go to bed like a responsible adult.

Instead, I refilled my glass. Because responsible Juno had apparently taken the day off. She would come back to work tomorrow. For now, irresponsible Juno was going to get drunk and daydream about the sexiest man she’d ever kissed. Irresponsible Juno had looked at Hollis Blackwell like he was a goddamn snack, and then, because that version of me had zero survival instincts, she went ahead and kissed him.

I went ahead and kissed him.

I groaned and pressed my wine glass against my forehead.

“You’re an idiot,” I told myself. “A complete fucking idiot.”

Even as I said it, heat pooled low in my belly. That kiss had been incredible. Mind-melting. It made me want to do very unprofessional things in very inappropriate places.

I drained the third glass and poured a fourth. The bottle was almost empty. When had that happened?

Should I text him? No, I should block his number and change my name and move to Alaska.

The wine was definitely making me dramatic. I decided to get some sleep instead of cracking open a second bottle.