Page 32 of My Office Rival

“I’m fine. I just burned myself a little.” I’d dumped half my tea onto my chest, and I grabbed a towel to soak and press over my breasts where the water had burned me.

“Can I make you some more tea? I need a cup myself.”

“Honestly, after this, I may just do a shot of vodka and hope for the best.”

He chuckled and my stomach tightened. The heat of his body was a physical touch as he rustled behind me, and I turned, still pressing the cool cloth against my chest. Oh no. I froze at the sight of his back muscles flexing in the soft moonlight as he reached for a mug. He was naked to the waist. I remembered this sight and I remembered the feel of his hot skin under my hands. And now he had the audacity to prance around this house with no shirt on, showing off his godlike physique and stupidly beautiful arms? Rude.

I’d been lying in the grocery store. Jason Elliott walking around without a shirt on wasdevastating.But if he was going to be casual about our situation, I would too. I leaned against the counter and crossed my legs in what I hoped was a believably relaxed pose. My arms felt awkward, heavy. I settled for clutching my remaining tea like it was a lifeline. My hand throbbed and my legs prickled where they were exposed to the air under my indecently short sleep T-shirt. The same one I’d worn yesterday when I’d taunted him in the kitchen. Then, I’d felt powerful, at ease. Now? Now I felt exposed, all too aware of him.It’s the night air and the soft darkness.It made me want to linger, to trail my eyes over those lovely arms, those bare feet.

I cleared my throat. “Why are you up, anyway?”

He gave me a half smile. “Couldn’t sleep. I’m not a big sleeper. I have bad dreams. And there always seems to be something to do that’s more important than sleeping. I can get by on four or five hours a night.” He shrugged. “I probably should have put that on my resume when I applied to the firm. They would have hired me in a heartbeat.” He gave me an appraising look, eyes snagging on my legs and a strange expression crossing his face when he finally met my eyes. “What about you? Work keeping you up?”

“Uh, no.”It’s you. Your hot eyes and your insufferable attitude and the way you throw me off balance.“I had a little too much wine, and I guess I’m old now. You know when you’ve had just enough to drink so that you’re not hungover, but you've still had too much to sleep? Well, I’m in that fun hour of being wide awake.” I made a face. “I’ll probably be deep in REM when my alarm goes off, so look forward to me being a raging bitch tomorrow.”

He snorted out a laugh and started coughing on his tea. “And here I was going to say you are extremely pleasant even on the worst of days.”

“Don’t lie to me, Jason Elliott. No one has ever dared to call me nice or pleasant.”

“Me neither. And I don’t give a fuck.” His white teeth flashed in the darkness.

“Yeah, I guess not.”We’re the same, you and I.

“Does it ever bother you?” he asked, head tilted. “I mean, don’t you ever get told to be softer?”

I snorted. “All the damn time. If I had a dollar for every time opposing counsel clearly wanted to tell me to pipe down, I’d have quit the firm by now.”

“Not me, though, I hope.” His voice was quiet, and his eyes lookedsoft?Must be a trick of the moonlight.

“No. Not you,” I scoffed. “In fact, you might be number one on the list of going toe-to-toe with me.”I guess that’s respect.My heart lurched before settling into an unsteady rhythm.

“It’s because I’m scared of you,” he said, his voice full of laughter.

“Yeah, right.” I rolled my eyes. “You’re not scared of anything.”And it was pretty fucking hot. The way he cut through everything, cool, confident.If only I could be like that.

“Oh, I totally am.” He leaned back against the counter.

“Let’s hear it then.” I mirrored his pose.

“Why would I tell you my weaknesses?” He grinned at me.

“Good point,” I admitted. “I’ll have to guess, then.” I tapped my finger against the warm mug. “Let’s see…shirts. You’re scared of shirts. Based off how little you seem to wear them.”And I’m terrified of how much I like it.

He barked out a short laugh, like I’d surprised him. His eyes glinted in the moonlight, and warm pleasure spread through me.

“Definitely not scared of shirts.” He paused. “Though it seems you are deathly allergic to wearing pants at home.”

I grinned into my mug. I was getting to him.I knew it.

“So what you’re saying is, you’re scared of a little thigh.” I raised a brow.Fire. You’re playing with fire.And yet, I couldn’t stop. This moment, wrapped in moonlight, it didn’t feel real. Could there really be consequences tomorrow? I shifted and let the hem of my shirt hitch up over my legs.

His hard swallow was audible in the silent kitchen.

“Stop,” he rasped.

“Why?” I raised a brow at him in challenge before dropping the cloth I was using to soothe my burned skin onto the counter.

“Fuck,” he breathed out. I just barely heard the soft curse and his sharp inhalation as his eyes caught on my breasts. Oh no. My shirt was damp and my nipples were hard. I froze.Say something, idiot. Make a joke.Don’t just stand there while he devours you with his gaze.I looked up and met his eyes. They were electric in the moonlight, his lips slightly parted, his breaths hitching. I couldn’t look away.Where is my bravery from this morning? From two minutes ago?I wanted to draw myself up, say something flirty. Instead, Imeltedunder the heat of his gaze.

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