Page 80 of The Rules

Chapter 21

Katherine

Kath strode into the break room, her mind already whirring with the details for the upcoming meeting. She had her notes organized, arguments prepared, and a fresh cup of coffee would be the final touch to ensure she was operating at peak efficiency. Professional. Focused. She was not thinking about Ben, his fingers or anything else that could potentially derail her concentration.

Balancing her mug and files, she reached for the coffee pot, mentally reviewing her key points one last time. The familiar scent of the dark roast filled her senses as she poured, the motion practiced and grounding. She was ready to conquer this meeting.

Then Patty breezed in, all casual cheer. "Got some blondies this morning! Fresh from that bakery on 5th."

Kath froze, her grip tightening on the coffee pot. Her heart stuttered, skipping a beat before slamming back into a frantic rhythm. The word hung in the air, innocent yet loaded, dredging up memories and sensations she had been determinedly ignoring.

She drew in a slow breath, forcing herself to remain impassive. It was just a name. It meant nothing. She could handle this.

But then Ben's measured tones cut through her fragile composure. "Huh. What's this one called again?"

A lead weight materialized in her stomach as Katherine's eyes snapped up, meeting his gaze. He looked perfectly at ease, casual curiosity on his features. But she knew better than to trust that facade.

Before she could spiral further, Patty's laugh broke the tension, oblivious to the sudden charge in the air. "Seriously?

It's a blondie, Mr. Sinclair."

Kath's posture tightened as she stared daggers at her coffee, as if the innocent beverage had personally offended her. She took a sip, the bitter liquid scorching her tongue, grounding her. Her gaze dropped to the swirl of cream that hadn’t fully mixed—like the day couldn’t decide what the hell it wanted to be.

One second of quiet. Of pretending none of it mattered.

She stared into the cup.

And then—

"Sweet."

That one word from Ben hit her like a slap across the face. Her breath caught in her throat, her carefully organized thoughts scattering.

Gathering her files with stiff, precise movements, Kath fought to regain her controlled demeanor. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.

You need to focus. You still have that case review in ten minutes. Stop being ridiculous.

She walked out of the break room, head held high, hands steady on the surface. But inside, she was spiraling, Ben's loaded comment reverberating through her mind, dredging up memories and sensations she had been trying so hard to ignore.

Now, ten minutes later, Katherine sat across from Ben, the open file in front of her a mere prop. She should have been thinking about contracts, settlements, numbers—the very foundation of her profession. Instead, her treacherous gaze kept straying to his hands.

The way his pen rolled between his fingers, the pad of his thumb tapping an idle rhythm, the casual brush of his index finger across his jaw. And when his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, Kath's breath caught in her throat.

Because she remembered.

Vividly.

Those fingers between her thighs, stroking her to the edge and past it, slow and sure like he’d done it a thousand timesbefore. Her body flushed at the memory, warmth crawling under her skin like fire with nowhere to go.

Ben flexed his hand absently, rolling his wrist with a slight grimace. Then, almost like he was talking to himself, he muttered, "Huh. Might’ve overdone it last night."

The words were casual. Offhand. But they detonated in her mind like a thrown match on dry kindling.

Kath's pen paused mid-word. A breath lodged in her throat.

Her eyes flicked up to his face—cool, unreadable, not even a twitch betraying intent. Just a man reviewing legal clauses like he hadn’t just detonated a landmine under the table.

Her grip tightened on her pen until her knuckles whitened.