Page 39 of That Moment
“Scotty?” My voice comes out softer than I mean, breathy in a way that makes heat crawl up my throat.
He stops and turns, surprise flickering quick across his face before it’s replaced with a slow, sexy grin. The hall shrinks.I’m instantly aware of every open door, every nosy assistant. I should care. I don’t. All I can see is the thumb that held my jaw while he kissed me like his life depended on it.
I take a step closer because I can’t not. The scent of soap and clean cotton reaches me, undercut with the faintest whisper of oil that never really leaves his skin. My palm itches to find his shirt, to test whether the steady thud beneath it is as wrecked as mine.
“What are you—” I swallow. Try again. “What are you doing here?”
His eyes drop down to my lips, then just as quickly, they dart back up to look into mine. He has a look on his face, like maybe he’s on the same loop I am. His memory flashing with the hood, his hands on me, his lips covering mine.
He clears his throat and shifts his weight, the key ring clinking softly in his hand. “Brought Axel’s truck back,” he says, voice gravely. “Figured I’d drop the keys myself.”
“Since when do you return vehicles directly to people?”
He resists the urge to smile, crossing his arms across his chest slowly. I can’t resist the urge to take in his flexed biceps, the way his shirt is stretched to its limits between his pecs.
“I always try to go above and beyond, Miss Slade.”
The drop in his voice sends a lightning bolt of desire straight through me. “That’s the only reason you’re here?” It comes out lighter than I mean, teasing on the edge of needy.
He tilts his head, eyes narrowing with the faintest hint of a smile. “You lookin’ for another reason, darlin’?”
God, that drawl.
The word slides over me, hot and lazy. I try to summon professionalism, but all I can think about is the way that same voice had gone rough and broken when I moaned his name against his mouth.
“Don’t ‘darlin’ me in the middle of my office,” I whisper, stepping closer as I jab a finger against his chest. “Besides, last night shouldn’t have happened, remember?”
He smiles at me like he’s changed his mind, and my stomach flutters. “People will talk.”
He leans in just enough that I can feel his breath skim my temple. “Let ’em.”
The space between us goes electric. I can smell him. My heartbeat climbs into my throat.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I murmur, even as my hand betrays me, brushing against the fabric stretched across his chest. Solid heat beneath soft cotton. His muscles tighten under my fingertips, and his gaze darkens.
“Yeah,” he says, voice dropping lower, rougher. “Seems like we both got a habit of doin’ things we shouldn’t.”
My laugh comes out shaky. “Like last night?”
“Exactly like last night.”
For a beat, the world shrinks to the place where his body almost touches mine. The hum of the office was replaced by the sound of his breathing. He looks over his shoulder, checks the hallway, then back at me. That teasing grin returns.
“What are you smiling about?” I ask, my voice soft but daring.
He lifts one hand, slow enough that I could stop him, but I don’t. His thumb catches beneath my chin, tilting my face toward his. “You,” he murmurs. “Always you.”
His confession leaves me speechless. My lips part, ready to close the gap, but he hesitates, his eyes dropping to my mouth, then back up again, restraint fighting the inevitable. His thumb strokes the curve of my jaw once, twice, just enough to make me tremble.
I reach up, fingers sliding over the rough stubble of his jaw, and that’s all it takes for him to step closer. The air between uscollapses. I feel his breath against my lips, the heat of his chest pressing mine. One more inch and we’ll be right back where we left off, wild and stupid and lost.
“Scotty—” I start, but his name turns into a gasp when his hand finds my waist, anchoring me.
“Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you,” he admits, barely audible.
My pulse trips. “Then don’t.”
His smile ghosts against my skin. He’s about to close that final inch when a familiar voice drifts down the hallway.
