Page 32 of Through the Flames
“Sure, you didn’t.”
Her lips parted, and her hand flew up to her chest. “Excuse me, I’ll have you–”
“Yeah, don’t really need the whole rundown.”
I was being a dick on purpose, but it needed to be this way. Now wasn’t the right time to let her in, not before all the pieces were in place.
“Okay, Mr. Grumpy. Newsflash, I think you do. So you’re just gonna have to listen.”
Her leg brushed against my arm as she adjusted her position, her skin feeling like fucking silk.
Jesus Christ, how was I supposed to survive this?
I didn’t move a single fucking muscle.
Ella was talking about spreadsheets and embezzled funds. Something serious and probably illegal.
My only contribution so far was breathing unevenly.
She scrolled through receipts and forwarded me the information I needed to make her request happen. Meanwhile, I couldn’t stop watching the freckle constellation on her collarbone.
My girl had called it “serious shit.” She had no idea what serious looked like. But she’d see.
The worst fucking part was, she had no clue what she was doing to me.
I should probably move away.
Be responsible.
But she was already under my skin, branded there whether she knew it or not.
By the time she had finished her unnecessarily long-winded story, I had only retained the most basic parts, but it didn’t matter. I’d grasped the gist of it.
There was no question of me helping her, there never had been.
She had no idea what I’d do for her, no idea what she was sitting next to.
“This is felony-level chaos,” I simply said, barely suppressing a smirk, after she’d finished her little story.
Ella just shrugged. “Mhm. But who doesn’t like a little chaos?”
I took a second to let my eyes wander over her body. On the outside, I was cool and assessing, but on the inside, desire and lust were consuming me.
Ella was dangerous. She made me want things I’d spent years convincing myself I didn’t need.
“I don’t.” I deadpanned.
It was true.Exceptwhen it came to her, apparently.
“So why do this then?”
As if on autopilot, my fingers began to fly over the keyboard, and I felt her curious gaze rest on me.
Not on the screens or on the code.Me.
Her eyes were tracking every movement of my hands, slow and deliberate, like she was cataloging them.
I didn’t look at her. If I looked her way right now, I’d fucking snap. But I felt the air change — thicker, slower, charged.
