Page 15 of Single Mom’s Secret Diary (The Forbidden Reverse Harem Collection)

Avery

M y reflection isn’t winning me any beauty contests, but I’m not as washed out as I was this last week. After being poisoned by someone they still haven’t found.

They won’t tell me what the poison was. Or how it got into the chocolates Wyatt made for me.

I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a contamination. The company didn’t close manufacturing down, so it must have been isolated.

So, was it a mistake? Or does someone have it out for me?

Who would? It’s not like my position can be done by anyone. Like I pose a threat to anyone’s life or livelihood. So, what the fuck?

God, those thoughts have been circling nonstop, and I need work to distract me.

I’m going back to work because I’m finally feeling better. Although the tension between me and my bosses has shifted a little since my place has been crowded by the three of them for the last five days.

I’m not tasting anything today. My palate hasn’t returned back to normal yet, but my doctor says it should. Apparently, I have paperwork to do, though, and I’m pretty sure it’s an excuse to get me in the office since they don’t need to watch me anymore.

I shooed them off the moment I was able to take care of Charlie.

Dad did a good job with him as always, and Sophia helped keep his mind off my being in the hospital.

And thankfully, no one seemed to rifle through my photo books or turn on my digital frame that slides through my favorite pictures of my son.

I don’t have any big prints in our home, but my dad has them plastered all over his walls.

It’s more that we move often enough that I don’t bother decorating the walls anymore. Worked in my favor this last week.

Thankfully, no one spotted just how much Charlie resembles Ezra. That is a conversation I am in no way prepared for. I’ve only recently decided that I don’t hate him. That I don’t have to hate him for what he did. That what I did might have sucked for him, too.

Sigh. It was the point at the time, but it certainly hadn’t been the mature move. So what leg do I have to stand on?

Well, I guess I had one, but it doesn’t seem as important as before.

And it’s not like I have any clue how to tell him.

Sighing, I slump a little behind my desk. It’s time to distract myself with leftover paperwork and research, different kinds of roasting and different soil acidities that can change the flavor in a way that would be favorable for us.

It’s a few hours before I stand again. My nerves are too jacked for me to sit still this long. It’s not normally such a problem.

Standing behind my chair, I stretch with the stiffness from spending too much time in bed. My office seems kind of drab as I look around it—just as bad as my house, without any decoration or pictures of my family.

Ugh. I hate secrets. Hate keeping them. Hate them being kept from me.

I am the biggest hypocrite. Rubbing my face has me spinning in place.

A dark shadow looms in my doorway before Wyatt steps forward, head down, looking up at me from under the flop of his hair. He shuffles in a very un-Wyatt-like way.

“Wyatt?”

“You’re okay. Right? No permanent damage?” His hands curl into fists at his sides.

I smile. “No permanent damage.”

His worry is palpable as he takes a jutting step forward. I circle my desk and meet him by the door.

“It wasn’t your fault. I know that.”

My hand spreads across his chest in a reassuring stroke. It draws him closer, finally facing me straight on. That big hand of his lifts to run a thumb across my cheek. Pale green eyes glitter with emotion that’s been lingering in the looks he gives me when he thinks I’m not paying attention.

He doesn’t know that I’m always paying attention.

“Thank you for taking care of me.”

I pull him down into a kiss. His mouth is soft and yearning as it presses into mine. Then, his hands dive into my hair and his chest bumps mine. Wyatt backs me into the side of my desk as something seems to uncork inside him.

Lifting me on the edge, he steps between my knees, and our bodies align.

I cling to his collar as he swipes his tongue across my bottom lip, as if tasting me. His teeth pinch lightly and soothe me with another gentle press.

A firm touch at the small of my back sears me with heat, and I wish I didn’t have barriers between his hands and my bare skin. Finally letting myself explore him, I slide my palms down his chest and around to his back.

Wyatt is solid but trim and overall so much bigger than me. It gives me a thrill to scrape my nails down his back and make him shiver.

The soft moan in the back of his throat is a delight.

His big hands cup the backs of my thighs, hips pressing into mine and showing off the other hard part of his body he’s been hiding. God, he’s long and thick and bruising the inside corner of my thigh.

I can’t keep myself from rubbing against him. It starts a rhythm in his hips that has me whimpering in need.

Dropping his mouth to my throat, under my jaw, and the slope of my shoulder, he lays open-mouthed kisses along my skin. His teeth press and tease and nip at me.

Need builds low in my center, churning the thoughts that have been plaguing me between these four walls. How many times I’ve imagined him sliding up my skirt to explore the bare expanse of my thighs.

Pulling my blouse down one shoulder, his mouth softens. “I want to taste every inch of you.”

His confession makes me shake, and his grip on me tips my head back to suckle low on my throat. Licking that hollow and down a few inches to my cleavage has him humming against my skin.

My knees clench around his waist.

“I want to map out and taste every piece of you. Catalog your reactions. Learn every spot that makes you react and how.”

I laugh lightly, grip curling into his hair. “If I didn’t know how much you love to experiment, I might take that wrong.”

Wyatt lifts from my chest, and his pupils are blown wide. Like he’s high off my skin.

Our mouths collide again, and I’m so lost to him and how much he can tell me without any words. Everything winds me up tighter. My body is overheating. The need pumping through me arches my chest against his.

I don’t know how long we kiss or how many times Wyatt’s hands tour my curves, indeed cataloging me with soft squeezes. I’m molten, about to set fire to my desk, when I draw back for a breath.

A few gasps of cold air send sense back into me. “Wyatt…”

My hands land in the middle of his chest as I gawk at the triangle of skin I’ve unearthed. I hadn’t realized I’d yanked his collar open.

His cheeks are pink, eyes hazy with lust, muscles roiling. Everything about him looks wild. He leans in to kiss me again, but I keep him at bay with my palm.

Clarity washes back over him in a wave. I hate to see it, but it needs to happen.

“Is this not okay?” He searches my face, and I grab the front of his shirt as he retreats. I don’t want to push him away, exactly, but I’ve been back at work for a few hours, and I’m already making out with him in my office, more than ready to have him take me on my desk.

This isn’t good. Even though it felt really good .

I laugh lightly. “If you mean, do I want this? Yes, I do. But we’re at work.”

He nods, and since I haven’t shoved him away, he takes the liberty of spreading his fingers across my collarbones, tangling them in my hair, smoothing them across my nose and cheekbones and brows. His touch makes me feel beautiful.

I smile at him.

Wyatt smiles back with all of his teeth. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him smile like that.

“I like it when you smile,” he says, reading my mind.

“I really like it when you smile.”

A knock on my half-closed office door jerks us both out of our reverie.