Page 24

He bites down, jaw flexing. “Hadley, for fuck’s sake. How am I supposed to protect you if I don’t know what’s going on?”

My head rears back at that. “Protect me? When did I become your problem?” I ask rhetorically. I want to be the smart and savvy businesswoman, the strong bitch who can hold her own, a woman he could respect and not have to fucking rescue . He’s already done that once before.

He only stares at me, like he’s thinking the same thing. Shoving down the nerves, I press my shoulders back. “I can handle it,” I lie.

“Didn’t look like you were handling it.”

Hopping onto my desk, I cross my legs. “You’re right.

Tall guy with the great hair manhandled baldy.

” I raise my eyebrows, trying to play off how much that whole situation rattled me.

“Who is that, anyway? He was at your place the night I grabbed a handful of your...” I look down at exactly what I grabbed onto before trailing my eyes back up to his.

“Careful,” he warns, his gaze searing.

I tilt my head to the side and ask, “Did you send him over, or did he valiantly come to my rescue all on his own?”

He closes his mouth and says nothing. There’s no flare of anger or a quip to tell me to knock it off.

He looks at me in that way he sometimes does—curiously.

A look that has questions or professions hovering just below the surface.

I’m usually very good at filling the quiet, adding something to pull a laugh or a smile, but not this time.

I let the silence linger. I swallow and glance at his lips, the scruff along his cheeks and chin, the way his “eleven” lines between his eyebrows are so much more noticeable when he’s looking at me.

It’s been years of this push and pull, and even now, after a marriage proposal and the world’s sexiest kiss, he still keeps me at arm’s length.

“Hadley,” he finally says, like he’s already fed up with me.

“So we’re really back to Hadley, huh?” I say with a sigh, uncrossing my legs and keeping them open.

He licks his bottom lip and looks down at his crossed arms, nostrils flaring slightly with his heavy exhale.

“What happened to calling me sugar?” I tease.

It only takes him two long strides to stand in front of me, my pulse quickening when his arms brace on either side of me as he leans on the desk, his mouth grazing the side of my cheek.

“You don’t get to be called sugar when you’re keeping things from me.

” His words drag from his throat, low and slow, like they ran over gravel before reaching me.

“And if I tell you every single secret?” I breathe out.

“What do I get then?” I stare at his mouth, mere inches from mine, and remember the way his lips felt.

The intense dance of his tongue and how it stole the breath from me.

The sides of his arms, from his biceps to his forearms, all the way down to his wrists, graze my sides.

It sends a small tremor through me, different from the unease of what happened at the bar, and more like a jumpstart of heat.

It fuels me. So instead of leaning back or meeting his stare, I look down his body, widening my knees just enough to extend them and wrap my legs around his.

As I pull him closer, he stays quiet and breathes me in. I can feel him looking at me, chest moving faster as he tries his hardest not to lose whatever upper hand he thinks he may have.

“You want a reward for honesty? Praise for being a good girl?” he practically growls, sending a shiver all the way to my toes.

“You told him to step in, didn’t you?” I whisper. “Why do you care?” When my legs tighten around him even more, his body becomes flush with mine. With his hips pressing into me, I can feel how affected he is right now. I have to suppress a moan at how satisfying that is.

Instead of answering my question, he continues talking, as if I never asked. “I don’t want you to be a good girl. I would much rather you tell me the truth and then tell me to go fuck myself. That way, I can think about stuffing this pretty mouth?—”

But the slamming of a fist against the office door echoes loudly and has him pulling back and straightening to stand.

My legs fall away from him as Laney calls my name from the other side of the door, breaking the moment.

“Hadley, I’ve got someone out here asking for you.

Are you here, or am I telling them you’re not in tonight? ”

“I’ll be right there!” I call out.

Ace takes another step back, and then another as I stand from the desk and adjust my skirt.

I brush by him and turn the doorknob to leave, but something has me stopping to look back at him.

With a rough swallow, I say what’s been on my mind since our kiss.

“I think I made it seem like my offer to marry you also meant it needed to be tied to whatever that just was. It doesn’t.

If you need my help, then my offer still stands.

” I turn my body fully to face him, letting out the truth I’ve been stubborn about.

“Because...you’re right, I don’t have things handled.

Maybe marrying you is also a way for me to get out of this constant state of being my father’s daughter.

It would benefit me just as much as you.

” Tilting my chin higher, I pull as much strength as I can.

I feel safe when I’m with him—so many other things too, but those can be stifled, if it means this could help us both.

I could never say it out loud, but I didn’t want to be a Finch anymore.

I didn’t want to deal with the money, the threats, the outcomes—almost as much as I wanted to be a Foxx.

“Friends with the benefit of a marriage certificate. Nothing more.”

He shoves his hands into his suit pants pockets and watches me, letting what I’ve said linger for the briefest moment before he says, “We both know it’s not that simple.”

I smile with a shrug and open the door. “Maybe not. But I’m still your best option.”

Closing the door behind me, I walk down the hall, toward the crowded bar and laughter.

With every step, I shake off the vulnerability that always escapes when I’m alone with him.

And as the live music and applause for Faye grows louder, it drowns out the fact that I just suggested that Ace Foxx marry me. ..again.