Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 78249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Hearing her speak so plainly about the things we had done was oddly arousing. Until now, we had at least stuck to the terms of our agreement. When we weren’t fooling around, we more or less pretended everything was normal. If anything, we over corrected toward stiff formality.
“I’m aware,” I said. “And even with the limits of what we’ve done, we both appear to be struggling with the terms of our agreement.”
She was grinning when I finally turned to face her. “Are you implying that I have caught feelings, too, Mr. Foster?”
My nostrils flared.
“Easy,” she said, smiling wider. “You’re not the only one struggling. I was just teasing.”
"What are we doing, Ember?" I sighed.
"Currently?" She stood and looked out one of the smaller windows overlooking the office itself. The building was already clearing out because it was late, and only the true over-achievers were still at their desks working. Ember pulled the blinds shut and turned toward me, walking closer. "I’m feeling tired of rules and agreements. My body knows what it wants, and I’m pretty sure yours does too.”
There was something different in her body language and voice. Something less primal and hungry than usual. I felt it, too.
It was as if the complete release and abandon of our last few physical interactions were meant to drown out any possibility of emotional connection.
The way she was looking at me now was… not that.
I moved to the rest of the blinds, pulling them closed. Ember watched me, visibly swallowing as she came closer to me, one hand hesitantly lifting toward my face.
I hooked a hand around her waist and pulled her close. I shouldn’t be touching her now—not when our emotions were so obviously malfunctioning. I shouldn’t have backed her against my desk and kissed her until we were both breathless.
But I did.
Unlike the last few nights, we only kissed. It started hard and heavy, but it turned into something new. It was slow, passionate, and tender. She kissed me softly, her tongue sliding across mine as she smiled so close to my face I could feel it. She held onto me like I was a rock and she was trying not to be dragged away in a hard current, and I let her.
When we finally pulled back, from our long series of kisses, her eyes were heavy and her lips were pink. Her cheeks flushed when our eyes met.
“That was nice,” she breathed.
“Yes,” I said stiffly.
“Okay, then… I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“You work here. I imagine you will.”
She reached up and straightened my already straight tie—as was her habit. “Bye, Orion.”
“Good night, Ember.”
She stood on her tiptoes and gave me one last, tender kiss, then touched her fingertips to her lips before turning and rushing out of my office.
I flopped into my chair with a hard sigh when she was gone and stared for a very long time at the folder with the property transfer papers.
Two problems: One, whatever the hell that was definitely felt like it violated our “physical only” agreement. Sure, the words we exchanged weren’t exactly dripping with emotional energy, but that kiss was more than physical. It had felt like a connection. I could still feel it even now, as if an invisible tether had formed between us, keeping her actively on my mind even as she retreated through the office to her desk.
Two, the whole goddamn reason I wanted to avoid this was because I knew she was hiding something that would crush me, and I was hiding something that would crush her. Opening ourselves up to these… feelings was asking for disaster.
If I signed those papers and Ember found out what it meant, she wouldn’t ever forgive me. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I could even forgive myself if I signed them.
I lifted the folder and let it hover over the trash can. My thoughts swirled as I held the papers, considering what it would mean to let them go. It would mean changing myself and my vision for Foster Real Estate. It would be a decision of people over profits. It would be a completely different take on the legacy I had been trying to build for the company and the dream I’d been pursuing since my dad passed.
I watched in stunned surprise as I opened my fingers and let the folder thump into the trash. I felt a sickly weight slide off my shoulders as soon as I did—a weight I hadn’t consciously known was there until it was gone.
The gesture was largely symbolic, I knew. Roman could reprint those and have them on my desk in minutes. But he also wouldn’t know I didn’t sign them. I was supposed to send those to legal and have things finalized. Roman would assume I did exactly that until the day Davenport died, I assumed.