Page 100 of Indulge
Rowan.
My breath catches. He leans against the frame, arms folded, eyes sweeping over me like he’s trying to decide whether to scold me or kiss me.
“That better be coming my way, precious,” he says, voice rough silk.
The room stills. My pulse jumps to my throat.
I lower my phone slowly, every nerve alive under his stare.
“Rowan,” I whisper, heat crawling up my neck.
His smile is dangerous and heartbreakingly soft all at once.
“Guess I saved you from sending that to the wrong Murphy,” he murmurs.
I should tell him to leave. I should. Instead, I take a step closer.
The air thickens, humming with everything unspoken. The guilt, the longing, the chaos neither of us can seem to stop feeding.
I grin. “Too late.”
He runs a hand over his jaw, casting his gaze over me. Admiring me.
“But,” I purr, stopping in front of him.
“If you’re willing to be a good boy and help me with this paperwork. I’ll let you look at the real thing the whole time.”
“Maybe.” He pushes off the doorframe, moving closer, each step deliberate, the predator softening just enough to lure me in. “But that’ll make it very hard to focus, precious.”
“That’s the point,” I whisper.
His gaze trails up my neck, pausing on my lips. “You keep playing like this, and I’ll have to change tactics.”
“Like what?” I breathe.
He glances at the papers scattered across my desk, then back at me. “Have you got a couple of hours you can skip from working?”
“Why?”
“Because I’m taking you out.”
My brows lift. “Now?”
He smirks, that lazy kind of confidence that makes my knees weak. “You said you wanted me to help you. Consider this… practical research.”
I hesitate, torn between excitement and guilt that tastes far too sweet. “Where are we going?”
“Decadence,” he says, like it’s a secret he’s daring me to uncover. “And then Inferno.”
“Those sound like clubs,” I murmur. “I can’t drink, I have to focus. I want to keep this job so I don’t get bored.”
“Not clubs,” he corrects softly, stepping close enough that the heat of him grazes my skin. “Experiences. Parts of who we are. I think you’ll enjoy it.”
“Are you sure about that?” I say, but my voice trembles.
“Definitely.” He offers his hand, palm up, eyes dark with something that feels like danger and invitation all at once. “You’ve got that sweet tooth, Bella. Let me feed it.”
I stare at his hand, at the quiet command in his stance. I should say no. I should stay here, finish my work, pretend I’m not curious.
