Page 12 of Surprise Me Tonight (Claimed on Sight #1)

Callum

S tella knocks lightly on the frame, already halfway through the door.

“I think we need to talk about it,” she whispers.

“Yeah. We do.”

She tilts her head, trying to look unfazed. “Look, it doesn’t have to be complicated. It was a moment. We gave in. No need to drag it out.” She is trying to give me an out.

She watches me. Her face is calm but her eyes give her away — flickers of doubt, heat, hope. She’s not trying to forget it. She’s trying to protect herself .

I stand, walk around the desk. Every step is a battle between my better judgement and the part of me that’s completely, irrationally gone for her.

“I’ve been mesmerised by you since the first day.”

She lets out a breath of a laugh. “Not the first day. You ignored me. Remember?”

“The coffee shop.” I wince. “I didn’t know it was you.”

“Because you were too busy ogling the yoga instructor,” she adds, with a grin that doesn’t reach her eyes .

“I don’t even remember that or that woman I apparently ogled,” I say honestly. “Which makes me a bit of a twat, I’ll admit. But I was probably in my own head.”

My hand lifts without thinking, brushes her cheek.

“But since that interview… since you walked into my house, all quiet and soft-spoken and feisty at the same time…” I exhale. “You’ve been stuck in my head. And I haven’t been able to get you out.”

She stares at me, lips parted, eyes wide.

“I know I shouldn’t be saying this,” I go on, voice quieter now, closer. “I know I’m your boss. But I also know I want you. Not just like that—” I nod toward the desk, “—but all of you. Talking to me. Laughing. Smiling at my stupid jokes. Giving me grief when I deserve it.”

I lean in and kiss her — slow, deep, reverent — and everything in me tightens.

Because this is the kind of kiss that ruins a man. This is the kind you don’t come back from.

When I pull back, she looks at me torn.

“There’s still the fact that I’m… old,” she says, voice a little too casual.

“Older than me,” I correct. “Not old.”

“It’s a big gap.”

“Maybe when we were twenty it would’ve mattered. Now?” I shake my head. “Doesn’t make a damn bit of difference.”

She tilts her head. “So what are you saying?”

I take a breath. Feel it hit my ribs like a warning. This is the part where I’m meant to walk it back, draw a line, be sensible.

But I’m so bloody tired of pretending I don’t want her .

“I don’t know yet,” I say honestly. “But I think I’d like to date you. Take you out. Talk to you without worrying about where it leads.”

She blinks. “Date me?”

“Yeah.” My voice roughens. “And fuck you again. Because, bloody hell, Stella, this was amazing.”

She swallows.

“And yeah, we’d need rules. At work. Boundaries. Clear lines.”

Her mouth twitches. “So… boss with benefits?”

I groan softly, stepping in closer. “You say that like it’s a joke.”

“It does sound a bit filthy.”

“Good,” I say, lowering my voice. “Because right now all I can think about is bending you over my desk again .”

Her cheeks flush, and her lips curve just slightly. But it’s her eyes that undo me — bright, full of nerves and hunger and something dangerously close to hope.

She hasn’t said yes.

She hasn’t said no either.

I want to kiss her again. Want to pull her close, press her to the door and lose myself in her all over again. But this moment needs more than heat.

It needs honesty.

So I take a breath. Step back just enough to give her space.

“Think about it,” I say quietly. “All of it.”

She watches me, still.

Whatever she's thinking is written nowhere on her face. She’s gone quiet — the kind of quiet that means a storm’s moving beneath the surface .

“I mean it,” I go on. “You don’t have to give me an answer tonight. But whatever you decide, I promise you this: your job is safe.”

Her eyes flicker, uncertain. “Callum—”

“I’m serious.” I hold her gaze. “If this makes things uncomfortable, or complicated, or just not what you want anymore — all you have to do is tell me. I’ll reassign you.

There are a few roles that can be done remotely — support for the Brighton team, or liaising with Luciana directly. You wouldn’t have to report to me.”

She opens her mouth, but I keep going.

“It would kill me not to see you every day,” I admit, and that’s the first time I’ve ever said anything like that out loud. “But I’d rather lose you as a PA than make you feel trapped.”

She swallows. Her throat moves, her lashes flutter once.

“No hard feelings,” I add, softer now. “No retaliation. No weirdness. If you want out — of us, of this — all you have to do is say the word.”

She still hasn’t looked away.

For a second, I think she might bolt. That she’ll give me a tight smile, say thanks for being understanding, and walk out of here like none of this ever happened.

But she doesn’t.

She steps in closer, just half a pace.

“Thank you,” she says, voice quiet, breath catching ever so slightly. “For giving me the choice. For not making it harder than it already is.”

I nod, trying to keep my expression neutral, when all I want to do is drag her into my arms and beg her not to go.

She looks down at her hands, then back up. Her face is open. Honest. Stella, through and through .

“I am conflicted,” she admits. “I’m trying to figure out what’s smart, what’s right, and what’s me . And I don’t know yet. I really don’t.”

My chest tightens. “I get it. I do.”

She nods, takes a step back, like it’s done. Like she’s about to leave.

But then she stops.

Turns.

And before I can say a word, she crosses the room, grabs the front of my shirt, and kisses me.

Hard.

No hesitation. No preamble. Just lips and hands and heat — one last flare of everything we’ve been fighting and giving in to in equal measure.

I freeze for half a heartbeat, then kiss her back with everything I have.

It’s brief. Fierce. Final, maybe.

And then she pulls back, eyes still closed for half a second like she wants to memorise the feel of it.

“In case I decide against it,” she whispers. “I just wanted… one more.”

I can’t find words.

She doesn’t wait for them.

She turns and walks out, soft steps fading down the hallway, and all I can do is stand there with the taste of her still on my lips and the echo of that kiss still ringing in my chest.

In case I decide against it.

The thought sparks a raw burn low in my stomach. She doesn't even realise how much power she holds over me. Her decision can make or break me.