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Sleep was the last thing on my mind.

8

JOSS

From the moment I heard there was only one room, I knew I was in trouble. It was already hard enough being around Garner—the pull to brush past him a smidgeon too close so that our bodies touched, to reach out and grab his hand, to sit close enough to feel his breath—it was all getting stronger and stronger by the day.

I’d been able to refrain. There were times I’d catch myself just on time, but I managed. But now? Now we were sharing a room. One room. One bed. A sad little settee that could barely hold a throw pillow or the floor were our only other options. I was in trouble. Big trouble.

The moment we stepped into that enclosed space together, all I wanted was to wrap my arms around him and pull him in close.

So instead of getting myself fired, sued, or worse… rejected, I panicked. I announced that I needed food and walked out the door like that would fix the problem. Obviously, I couldn’t hide from him the entire trip, and honestly, I didn’t want to. But this—whatever this thing between us was—wasn’t exactly appropriate. I needed air and time to compose myself.

I took the stairs instead of the elevator. Burning off the energy might help, and waiting for the elevator meant it was easy enough for me to go back and pull him in for that kiss. This was better.

When I hit the bottom landing, there he was… Garner, waiting, a smile already on his face. What was funny about me walking out on him, not even offering to bring him back food?

“Were you planning on taking us somewhere that required cardio first?” he teased.

He was kidding. Probably. Maybe. I didn’t know. Something in him had shifted. He seemed almost... giddy.

Then he reached out and took my hand. Just like that. Reach and grab as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And the really messed-up thing was, it was.

“I get it,” he said gently, giving it a squeeze. “We don’t have to talk about it. But I get it.”

And then he led me out onto the street, and suddenly all that spinning—my mind, my emotions—stilled and centered right where our hands touched. I didn’t care about work or boundaries. I didn’t care about what this meant for the company or the contract. All I cared about was him and where our bodies met.

“You don’t have to hold my hand,” I murmured.

“No,” he said, and brought it to his lips. “But I want to. Is that okay?”

I nodded, heart thumping loudly in my chest. “Yeah. It’s okay.” It was more than okay. It was everything.

We walked a few blocks to a Mediterranean place and grabbed a table. I ordered the first thing I saw because I didn’t want to take my eyes off him long enough to read the menu. We didn’t talk about what was happening between us—we didn’t need to. Acknowledging it in silence felt like enough. And when dinner was over, he took my hand again as we stepped outside.

We barely made it half a block before he pulled me into a shadowed alleyway, crowding me gently against the brick.

“Tell me you want this too,” he whispered, voice rough, mouth hovering just above mine.

I didn’t answer with words. I tilted my chin up and kissed him—soft at first, just a brush. Then again. And again. Until his lips parted and his tongue swept into my mouth like he’d been waiting all night.

My knees wobbled. I clutched his jacket.

“This will change things,” I said when we broke apart. “But I’ll still get the work done.”

Garner smiled, leaning close, lips brushing my cheek. “Oh, it’s definitely going to change things. And I don’t care about the work right now.”

Truth was, I didn’t either. Harold would understand—or not. But that was a worry for tomorrow.

“Let’s go back to the hotel.” I couldn’t wait to peel his clothing from his body.

He pulled back enough to grin, his eyes looking at the bulge in my pants.

“We should probably wait a minute.” I gestured to the very obvious erection he was sporting.

“I don’t have to hide mine,” he said, bold and warm. “No one could see you by my side and be shocked.”

Back in the room, we barely had the door shut when both our phones started ringing. Mine was Harold—of course it was Harold. Persistent bastard. I stepped into the hallway to answer it while Garner fielded a call of his own, something about Denmarke. When I came back in, he was pacing in front of the window, still mid-call, so I slipped into the bathroom for a second, took a breath, and let the heat in my face settle before cleaning up a bit.