Page 49 of Only the Devil

I alternate between making notes for security recommendations, noting where I’d like to install surveillance for Sterling Financial and unofficially, for KOAN, and doing rounds. When a steady flow of employees files through the lobby, it’s my time to do rounds. I circle through the fourth floor, discover Sterling has already headed home for the day, and with him seemingly most of the execs, then head down to the third floor.

A young guy in a slightly wrinkled suit calls ‘Have a good night’ to Daisy and nods at me as I pass. Daisy’s office door is open.

As expected, I find her at her desk, but she’s not typing. Instead, she’s staring off into space, chin propped on her hand, completely lost in thought. Her blazer hangs forgotten on the back of her office chair, and without that professional armor, she looks...different. Younger. More vulnerable.

And fuck me, more tempting than any woman has a right to be.

The tight little tee she’s wearing hugs every curve, and without the blazer, it’s obvious she’s not wearing a bra. The soft fabric clings to her breasts, revealing the outline of nipples that have my mouth going dry.

Professional, Ryder. Keep it professional.

I pause in the doorway, giving myself a moment to get my head straight before I announce myself. She’s clearly processing something heavy—the investigation, maybe, or whatever Sterling’s been putting her through. The last thing she needs is me barging in with my dick leading the conversation.

I rap my knuckles against the door frame, keeping it light. She blinks rapidly, coming back to the present, and when her eyes focus on me, something shifts in her expression.

“You ready to call it a day?”

She releases a long sigh. “Sure. My brain’s running like dial-up internet today, anyway. Might as well.” She flicks her mouse and as the screen darkens, she asks, “How’d your day go?”

“Fine.”

“That sounds like the opposite of fine. Not too much fun playing mall cop?”

“It wasn’t bad,” I answer somewhat honestly. “They’re leaving it to me to recommend adjustments to security. I’ll have free rein to install surveillance. We could learn something.”

I don’t mention that it was notably easy for someone to remove the body in the dead of the night. There’s no point, and besides, someone might overhear—unlikely, since the office has mostly emptied out, but not inconceivable.

“Is it just you? Someone mentioned they saw multiple suits.”

“Just me today. Sounds like they interviewed quite a few.”

She pushes up from her desk and as she steps closer, the memory of this morning’s kiss rushes forward.

Her tongue darts out to wet her bottom lip—nervous habit I’ve noticed—and my focus zeroes in on that small movement. On the way her lips part slightly afterward. On how the fluorescent lighting makes her skin look soft and warm.

She steps closer and I have this feeling she might be thinking about our kiss this morning too.

“Jake.” My name comes out barely above a whisper, but there’s an invitation in the way she says my name that makes my pulse kick up.

I should step back and keep it professional. My employer sent me here to keep her safe with the expectation I’m trustworthy. But those doe eyes call to me.

Heeding the siren, I step closer. I want this, and if I’m reading her right, she does too, and we’re both adults. Both single.

There are loads of reasons this is a bad fucking idea. “Tell me this isn’t what you want.” I close the distance. “Tell me to stop.”

She doesn’t. Instead, her free hand comes up to rest against my chest, right over my heart that the doc would probably say is beating too fast. “I should.” Those brown eyes flash, her pupils expansive.

“But you won’t.”

“No,” she breathes confirmation, and that’s all the permission I need.

My fingers thread through her hair, and my lips crash down on hers.

I probably deserve to be smacked. But she opens to me, pulling me to her, taking my tongue. My back hits the wall and she rocks against me. The pressure against my cock is exactly what I need.

Every rational thought in my head screams that this is wrong—we’re supposed to be professional, focused on figuring this place out and getting out of here. But the way she tastes, the little sound she makes when I deepen the kiss, the way her nails dig into my shoulders like she’s claiming me...

Fuck the job. Fuck professional boundaries. Right now, there’s only this woman that I’ve wanted since the day we moved in across the street.