Page 51 of Locke

“Locke.”She turns to look at me.The composure is back, reassembled, but I know what’s underneath it now and that knowledge is not going anywhere.“This has to stop.”

“Does it?”

“You know it does.I have a job to do.You have—”

“I’ll be in your office tomorrow,” I say, needing to assuage some of that guilt I know she’s swimming in.I need her to remember that she gets more than an orgasm.“The family session.Like I said.”

She’s quiet.

“We had a bargain, remember?”

“I remember,” she murmurs pensively.“But you were supposed to get a boon in return for the session.What do you want?”

“I got what I wanted,” I say truthfully.

My eyes move to hers and she stares at me in shock.Yeah… I totally got what I wanted, and even if I want more, it’s not going to be tonight.

“We’re here,” I say.

I pull up in front of her building and put it in park.

She sits quietly.I can feel the gears in her brain turning—cataloging, processing, trying to find the professional framework and put it back in place over everything that just happened.

“Tomorrow, then,” she says finally, and I’m relieved she’s not inviting me up.I’d go without question or reservation, but it’s best for her if we don’t.

“Tomorrow,” I confirm.

She gets out and I watch until she’s safely inside.

I pull away from the curb and drive home through the wet Portland streets.I don’t turn on the radio but rather relive all the sexy sounds she made in my car as I fingered her.

I think about it the entire drive home and I know I’ll be thinking about it for days to come.

Chapter 17

Locke

She’smovedthefurniture.

I notice it the second I walk through the door because it’s so obvious that she constructed a scene.The two chairs that normally sit side by side across her desk are now in the opposite corner facing each other.Just two chairs and the space between them waiting to be filled.Her desk is pushed to the side like it doesn’t exist today.

I should be annoyed by this but I’m not.I put myself in this situation because my desire to touch her outweighed my reluctance to open up.

At least about my family.I feel pretty safe talking about that because I don’t think they have a damn thing to do with my… shall we say… reluctance to trust anyone on my team.

Livia may think differently though, and I anticipate she will poke and prod every angle.In the end, she’ll probably be disappointed by my full acceptance of that part of my life.

She’s sitting in one of the chairs already, notepad on her knee, pen in hand.She’s wearing a pair of workout leggings in jet black that show off her long, toned legs, and a three-quarter-zip hoodie in matching black with the Wildfire logo and orange and green stripes down the sleeves.Her hair is in a high ponytail and she’s got on a light layer of mascara.Far different from the way her face was done up at the club, but surely she knows she’s so beautiful she doesn’t really need anything.

She smiles at me when I come in but other than the obvious welcome within it, her expression gives absolutely nothing away.

Livia gestures to the chair.“Good morning.”

“You moved the furniture,” I say.

“I did.”

“So you can stare deep into my eyes to discern if I’m telling you the truth?”