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Dalton rakes a hand through his dark hair, tugging at the crown in a way that has me thinking about how my own fingers had done that same thing two nights ago between my thighs. Focus, Jenna!

“I knew we were hiring a firm, and that Momentum was in the running. But I didn’t find out until this morning that we’d hired you.”

“You knew Friday morning that you might be a client?! Before our date?”

“At first, I thought you did too. And that’s why you were bailing on me. But then I realized you had no idea Ramona had tapped us.”

“And you still let us go on that date together? You let us…” I gesture between us, unable to find the right word for the earth-shattering sex we had and opt for a lewd hand gesture that causes Dalton’s eyebrows to fly up, a bark of laughter escaping before he clamps his jaw shut.

“Dalton, this isn’t funny.” A fissure cracks in my chest. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to hold the sides together. “You were supposed to be a one-night stand, no strings. But this weekend…”

“It meant something more.” He leans in. My stupid heart jumping at the minuscule motion.

“No, it didn’t.” I spit out.

At this, Dalton pushes off the table, closing the space between us. I shrink back into the door as his hands cage me in, his face lowering close to mine. I ball my fists at my side to keep from touching him.

“Yes, it did. And I don’t regret a God damn minute, forty-eight.

I’ve had enough one-night stands to know the difference.

The weekend wasn’t just a fling. You felt it too.

” His lips hover above mine, eyes pleading with me to say yes, to close the gap and claim him as my own.

I clench my jaw, hoping he doesn’t notice the way my breaths are becoming short rasps.

“We can’t.” I manage to get out.

“We already did.” Dalton’s lips lower again, his breath brushing against my skin. “Tell me you regret it.”

I say nothing, because I don’t. The time I spent with Dalton sparked something inside of me I thought had died.

Do I feel guilty about betraying Ramona?

Yes. Both for the bidding fuck up at the event and for now having slept with our client.

But I don’t regret my time with Dalton. Not really.

Sensing my lack of resolve, Dalton presses on.

“Tell me you didn’t feel anything. That this morning, you didn’t mean to text me. That you didn’t want to see me again.”

“I did,” I answer, agreeing to all three of the accusations.

“Well, I’m right here, and I don’t want a clean slate with you. It’s been years since I wanted something, someone this much.” Dalton whispers, grazing his nose against mine.

His green eyes latch onto mine, screaming a thousand emotions, drilling into me with desire, longing, and a hint of fear. Shock shakes my knees as I realize he’s scared I’ll reject him.

“Please, Jenna.”

The plea nearly destroys me. My chin tips up, lips brushing against his as I open them, whether to protest or give in, I’ll never know, because my tablet pings, causing us both to jump.

A quick glance shows another Q&A form from Abby.

I force my lungs to suck in a deep breath.

He must sense the wall I’m trying to build, stepping closer as if attempting to get on the right side before I lay the last brick.

“Dalton, you’re a client. This can’t happen.” I arch into him despite my words, hands tangling in the front of his shirt, holding him at bay while wanting to pull him closer.

“Technically, I didn’t hire you.”

“No, your bosses did. If Ramona finds out I’m sleeping with her shiny new client’s superstar, I could lose my job.”

“I would never let that happen.”

“You can’t guarantee that.” I tug on his shirt, trying to make him listen. “And who are they going to blame? Who’s going to get fired? The dispensable assistant or the superstar bringing in hundreds of thousands of fans?”

“Your door says Junior Publicist.”

“A title your team signing got me. Last week, this was a storage closet. It will be again tomorrow if we’re caught.”

“We could come clean.”

“Sure, let’s tell Ramona we compromised the integrity of her biggest event and put the charities involved at risk. Then this room might be my coffin. At least it already comes with a new headstone for my career.”

Dalton’s eyes slide shut, his forehead falling against mine.

“Fuck.” His right hand fists next to my head like he wants to punch the door down and go fight everyone in this office for our right to be together.

But the tension slides out of him almost immediately, hand opening to hover just above my jaw.

His fingers ghost over my skin so lightly, I’m not sure if he’s touching me or if I’m imagining it.

The gentleness is both shocking and heartbreaking before he drops both hands to his side in defeat.

“You’re right. I would be fine and you would suffer the consequences. You don’t deserve that. If the only relationship I can have with you is a professional one, then I can be a good boy, keep my hands to myself.”

Pulling away with an effort that looks near-Herculean based on the clench of his jaw, Dalton steps back, putting a foot between us.

I let his shirt slide through my fingers, feeling the same sense of loss as when the elevator doors shut between us at his apartment.

Grabbing my tablet and coffee, Dalton walks back to the desk— my desk—, claiming a seat on the guest side.

“Okay, forty-eight, let’s talk business. ”