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To be honest, I’m pretty sure my lady parts forced my brain to make the decision. They clearly have their own agenda, and unfortunately, I’m the one who’ll be left to deal with the consequences if this blows up in my face.

My hand tremble slightly as I unlock the door, open it and switch on the light. Squawk. “Polly wants a cracker.”

Thankfully, that’s the first thing we hear. I suck in a sharp breath and hold it when I step inside. Bronson is right behind me. I hope Polly is going to be on his best behaviour tonight, but I highly doubt it. That bird is trouble with a capital T.

I cross the room and place my bag on the breakfast bar, and when I turn around, I see Bronson has stopped in front of the bird cage. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his trousers, and I take a moment to appreciate his tight arse.

“Who’s a pretty Polly?” he says, leaning in to get a better look, and I cringe because I already know what that dreadful bird is going to reply.

“Who’s a pretty Polly.” Squawk. “Not you, arsehole.”

“Polly,” I chastise.

“Show us your tits.” he says, bobbing on his branch. Squawk.

Bronson glances over his shoulder and makes eye contact with me. When he arches a brow, I frown. “I’m not showing either of you my tits.”

That makes him chuckle. “The bird asked that, not me.”

He can deny it all he wants, but that arch of his brow was a question. I know it, and so does he.

“Well, you’ve met the dreadful bird so …”

“You’re kicking me out already,” he replies as I step up beside him and reach for the flap on the birdcage.

I side-eye him. “I brought you up here to meet the bird.”

“But you haven’t even introduced us yet.”

I roll my eyes. “Polly, this is my boss, Mr Kingsley. Mr Kingsley … Polly.”

Squawk. “Fuck off.”

I let go of the tie, and the leather cover rolls down, shielding the bird from our view. “Goodnight, you naughty bird.”

Squawk. “Fuck off.” Squawk.

Bronson turns to face me, and he’s suddenly too close. “Interesting pet,” he says.

“As I told you, the bird is my Mum’s.”

“He’s almost as entertaining as you, sweetheart,” he says, reaching up to tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. Why does the slightest touch from this man make my lady parts sit up and take notice?

“Almost?”

“I’m going to kiss you again, Rose.” Before his words have even registered, his mouth is on mine.

A soft gasp escapes me as his fingers grasp my hips and he starts walking me backwards until my back meets the wall. I reach for his tie, tugging him closer. His lips move over mine with a hunger so raw it steals all the air from my lungs.

His hands move around to cup my arse, giving my cheeks a firm squeeze. “Bronson,” I murmur into his mouth when I feel him hardening behind his zipper.

“Rose.”

I don’t know how long the kiss lasts, but by the end of it, I’m a quivering mess.

He draws back, and the heat I see in his eyes has me saying, “I’ve changed my mind. I want a nightcap.”

This makes him chuckle. “You’ve already admitted you don’t have any alcohol in your apartment.”