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“It’s okay.” A shadow darkens her eyes for a moment. Mike shifts and licks her face again, lighting her up with a smile.
Fine. The cat can stay.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat, not knowing what else to say. “About your parents, I mean.” Having both parents pass couldn’t have been easy.
“Really. It’s okay.” She looks up at me, her expression sincere. “It’s been eight years. And though I still miss them, I was lucky to have such great parents. They loved me. So much. When I got the scholarship to Columbia, I didn’t want to leave Texas. To leave them. Then one day I came home to find all my bags packed with a plane ticket on top, like a cherry on a sundae.” She looks back to Mike. “That was a big deal for them, that plane ticket. I was their only kid, but not only that, we didn’t have a lot of money. But they didn’t want me to pass up my dream of New York.”
“They sound great.” And so different from my own.
Her eyes focus on the distance, and I imagine her thinking of her parents. A small smile plays at her lips. “Yeah. They were. They were older when they had me, so they might not have been chasing me around playing tag or rushing me from activity to activity, but they did the important stuff. They taught me right from wrong. The importance of hard work. To learn from my mistakes.” She stiffens, straightening in the chair, causing Mike to jump down. “You know, I should really go. It’s getting late.”
I wonder how she doesn’t give herself emotional whiplash.
When she gets up from the chair, I settle my hands on her shoulders. “Okay, what just happened?”
She doesn’t meet my eyes. “Nothing, I just…” She blows out a long breath. “Look, you know this isn’t a good idea. We work together.”
She’s right. I know she’s right. But it doesn’t make me do the smart thing and step back. Maybe I’m spoiled and used to getting my way. Maybe I have too much confidence for my own good. Or maybe something inside me just knows that Campbell is different. We could be different. More than a hookup. More than just two people thrown together by proximity and opportunity. Just… more.
“Look. I like you. You’re…” God, I feel like a fucking adolescent as I struggle to find the words that will convey how I feel without scaring her, or me, with their intensity. “Unlike anyone I’ve ever met, and I need… well, fuck, I don’t know exactly what I need, but I know that we need to stop being a couple of bitches and actually do something about this.” I drop one hand from her shoulder to motion between us.
“Bitches?” She chuckles before getting serious again. “We work together,” she repeats. “I mean, technically, I work for you, even though I have my own company.”
“Are you worried what people will think?” I’m not stupid; I know the world is unfair to women. That’s why I invented my dick app in the first place, after all. But maybe I’m the only one with feelings strong enough to think that, together, we won’t let it matter.
“I hate saying this, because it’s unfair and a cliché, but it’s true. It’s different for men than it is for women. If anyone knew that we”—she flails her hands about— “you know, or even if they thought we did, I’d be the one facing rumors and innuendo. Not you.”
She’s right. I don’t want her to be right, but she is. “I would never say anything if you didn’t want me to.”
The pinch is back between her brows, like she’s thinking. I trail one finger between her eyes and down her nose, smoothing out the frown.
“Look, it’s Friday. We have nowhere to be and nothing to do for the next two days. Unless you’re jetting back to Houston again?”
She smiles. “No. I’d actually planned to stay the weekend.”
“Good.” I step closer, and her head tilts up to keep eye contact. “Give me two days. Fuck, give us two days. No work, no co-workers. Just two people who like each other wanting to spend more time together.”
The silence stretches out between us, and I would give my right nut to know what’s going through her mind right now. I’ve always liked lefty better anyway.
Finally, she releases a long, slow breath, tickling the underside of my jaw. “Okay.” She leans forward and kisses the hollow of my throat. “Two days.”
My shoulders sag forward, and I touch my forehead to hers. “Two days,” I repeat, letting relief wash over me. I’m not sure what I would’ve done if she hadn’t agreed.
She pulls back. “I should probably get going then.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Emotional whiplash is a thing. True story.
“You said two days, right?” She asks this with a calm demeanor. No trace of the uncertainty or lust from a moment ago.
“Uh, yes.”
“Okay. Then I’ll head back to the hotel tonight, and you can pick me up in the morning. We’ll have Saturday and Sunday.”
“Yep. Good idea.” I hate this idea.
Campbell gives me a wide smile.
My dick is crying right now.
