Page 92 of Last Night Was Fun

He said it in a tone that made something turn hot and melt low in her belly. He’d stepped even closer, and the need to touch him nearly overwhelmed her.

She cast him a sly little grin. “Are glasses your kink?”

“When you wear them, yes.”

“Hmm, you should have told me that in Mexico.”

He bit his lip again like he was remembering Mexico, and Emmy wished she could bite it for him. “So, have you thought about it?” he asked with an eager flash in his eyes.

She was nearly drunk on the smell of him standing so close. The leathery citrus was back in full force now that they were home. “Mm-hmm,” she hummed, reflexively leaning toward him and sliding off her glasses.

His lips curled into a hopeful grin, and his hand found its way to her hip. She almost melted at his touch. She’d been without it for only a day, but the heat of him felt like a missing piece of her had been reattached. With a subtle flick of his wrist, he slipped his hand under the hem of her shirt and pressed his palm to her skin. His thumb skimmed the top of her jeans, dipping below for a thrilling second that almost made her knees collapse. “And what are you thinking?” he softly growled.

His mouth was an inch from hers. She could taste the mint on his breath. She wanted to inhale until she passed out.

“I’mthiiinking...” She drew the word out and watched his eyes hungrily trace her lips. “...you’re being way too obvious. We’re going to have to be more discreet if we’re going to do this.” She pushed his hand from her hip but smiled at him.

Gabe rocked back on his heels as if he’d been rejected but then realization dawned over his face. “You want to do this?” he asked, and put his hand right back on her hip.

“Yes,” Emmy said with a laugh. “But we have to talk. We need boundaries. Rules for professional con—DUCT.” The end of the word came out half squeal when he pulled her close. “Gabe, stop it,” she half-heartedly protested as he buried his face in her neck. His lips hotly pressed into the vein pulsing in her throat.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I was hoping you’d say yes. I haven’t stopped thinking about it since the airport.”

“Okay, yes. I said yes. But we can’t do this here.” Her words were complete hypocrisy; she wanted to shove him into a utility closet and make out for the rest of the day. Somehow, knowing it would get them in trouble sent the desire flaming through her veins.

The sound of approaching voices carried in through the doorway and snapped them apart. Emmy’s heart jumped. Gabe glanced over his shoulder and turned back to her with a drunken grin.

“Come over to my place tonight. We can talk. I’ll cook.”

Her heart was still pounding over the voices carrying closer and the rush of his mouth and hands having been on her. “Okay,” she said on a quick and quiet breath. They were still standing way too close not to look suspicious to whoever was about to enter the kitchen.

“Okay,” Gabe muttered. And then with the speed of a runner trying to steal second base, he leaned in and kissed her, hard, and then spun away just in time.

She stumbled back into the counter, nearly losing her footing, as he turned to the snack rack.

Pedro and Alice appeared at the doorway midconversation. Alice continued on with a nod while Pedro came inside. He pulled up shortat the sight of Emmy standing rigid and stunned near the coffee station.

“You all right there, Jameson?” he asked, and cast a glance at Gabe perusing the snack rack.

“Mm-hmm,” she managed, though she was anything but.

“You look a little... frazzled,” Pedro said, and joined her.

“Oh, I’m fine,” she lied once more.

Gabe grabbed a bag of rice cakes and slipped out of the room. She caught the dark grin on his lips and silently vowed there would be payback later for his little stunt.

“If you say so,” Pedro said, and dug in the fridge for the oat milk.

Emmy had to gather herself before she headed for the conference room, knowing the object of all her frazzle would be there waiting for her.

When she arrived, Gabe had opened his snack and was crunching away.

“Still pretending to like rice cakes?” she said, and sank into the chair opposite his side of the table.

He turned to her and swallowed with a half grin. “I told you, I love rice cakes.”

She replaced her computer glasses even though she didn’t have her computer and eyed him over the tops of them. “No one likes rice cakes, Olson.”