Page 48 of Cava with My Colleague

We pass three floors before he glances up at me. “Thank you for sharing.” His delivery is soft, solemn.

“I finally took your advice,” I say.

“You really took my advice,” he continues. “I’m glad you told me. Us,” he corrects himself.

We arrive at our floor and Carlos puts his arm out, holding the door open for me and gesturing for me to go ahead.

I wonder what he’s thinking about. It’s been a long time since I’ve told anyone, and most of the people tonight wanted to tell their own story and be heard. That’s my job, and I was happy to do it.

“Goodnight,” I call to Carlos as we pass his door. He doesn’t stop, though. He closes the few feet to my door, and I turn to him.

We’re barely a foot apart, and Carlos’s hands are in his pocket as he studies me. His gaze moves from my eyes to my mouth and then up to the crown of my head, where my ponytail sits, and then follows the curve of my hair over my shoulder where it rests.

I hold my breath as he reaches out. His hand pauses, and his eyes meet mine, asking for permission. I nod, and Carlos picks up a thick cluster of my hair.

“You were great tonight. I hope . . . I hope that it helped you to talk about it.”

“It did,” I say, my voice a whisper until I clear my throat. “It did. It’s been a while, and it helps me to remember why I do what I do. Why we do what we do.”

And then, Carlos gives my hair a tug. On face value, it’s ridiculous, like a schoolboy teasing a crush. But there’s something in the way he watches me, combined with how raw and exposed I feel. The tug catches me off guard, lights a fuse, and my stomach flips while my lips part and a small gasp escapes me.

Carlos’s gaze flies down to my mouth and I’m very aware of how my lips feel right now; loose and plump. I don’t know which of us moves, but it feels like we’re getting closer to each other⁠—

Behind me, a door opens.

We both freeze. Carlos’s hand is still in my hair, my breath still caught in my throat. The door closes again—someone just stepping out to check the hallway, maybe, or retrieving something left outside.

The spell should break. We should step apart, laugh awkwardly, say goodnight.

But Carlos doesn’t let go of my hair.

His eyes are dark, searching mine. “Jade,” he says, and my name has never sounded like that before. Low and rough and wanting.

I should be smart. Professional. This is my colleague, we work together, the tour is barely halfway over.

“Yes?” It comes out breathier than I intended.

“Where were we?” He takes a half-step closer, and suddenly my back is against my door, the handle digging into my hip, and Carlos is right there. His hand slides from my hair to cup the side of my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone.

My hands come up to rest on his chest, feeling the solid warmth of him through his shirt. “I think we were about here,” I whisper.

His smile is small, almost hesitant, and then he closes the last bit of distance between us.

The kiss starts soft. Tentative. Like he’s giving me every chance to pull away. But I don’t want to pull away. I’ve been thinking about this since the sex shop, if I’m honest. Since he looked at me with heat in his eyes before shuttering it away.

I press up on my toes and kiss him back.

That’s when something shifts. Carlos makes a sound low in his throat and his other hand finds my waist, pulling me closer. The kiss deepens, and he tastes like mint and something else that’s just him.

His lips are softer than I expected. Careful but increasingly insistent. When his tongue traces the seam of my lips, I open for him, and the kiss turns into something that makes my knees weak.

I slide my hands up to his shoulders, then into his hair—surprisingly soft, just a little bit of silver at the temples threading through the black. He makes another sound when I tug gently, and I feel his fingers tighten on my waist.

We kiss until I forget where we are. Until the hallway and the hotel and the tour all fade away and there’s just this: his mouth on mine, his hands holding me like I’m precious, the way my whole body feels like it’s waking up after a long sleep.

When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard. Carlos rests his forehead against mine, eyes closed.

“That was . . .” he starts.