Page 71 of All's Well that Friends Well
LUCA
Juliet Marigold’sarms are twined around my neck.
Her lips are cherry red from my kisses—and now those same lips are offering me her deepest secrets, offering them with ease and without guile. I’m floating on a cloud of strawberry and vanilla, and I’m not certain I’m not dreaming. I’m not certain I won’t wake up, alarm clock blaring, and be haunted by these moments for weeks or even months to come.
A loud, primal part of me wants to kiss her again, devour her, drown in her sweetness. I keep that part firmly leashed, under control, but I could snap at any moment.
So I need to keep breathing. Keep it together. Reject the affection she offers so freely—at least until I can reallythinkabout it.
I do know one thing, though, even without further thought: I want her secrets. Even knowing what she might ask in return…I want them.
Because every single time I think I know what this woman is going to do or say, I end up being wrong. And every time I make assumptions about her, they’re incorrect. Everything I see of her makes me wonder what else is there.
It’s a question I ask myself in two minds. Because she’s right; I’m looking for excuses not to like her. She’s a bad idea. She’s young and beautiful and sweet, while I’m…not. I’m not any of those things. And she deserves better than someone who’s so messy—someone who could drag her down, like I could.
And who’s to say I won’t? What if I let myself explore things with her, only to dim her light, bit by bit, until she was extinguished and I was responsible?
But when she’s looking at me like this, her arms around my neck, offering nothing more than her story, her skeletons…I can’t quite feel bad about accepting.
“I want them,” I tell her. My office is silent, somehow impervious to the sounds from outside my door, and the world seems to have narrowed to just Juliet and me. My voice is broken and hoarse, but I repeat the words anyway. “I want them. Your secrets.”
She hums, and I’m not sure if she’s aware of the way her fingers play absently with the hair at the base of my neck, a light brush of her pink nails that sends pleasant shivers down my spine. “You want to hear my story? My deepest, darkest secrets?”
“Yes.”
She waits, looking at me, and even though she remains silent, I know what she’s expecting.
To my surprise, I find that I’m willing. Just for her, just for now, in this moment—I’mwilling.
“And I…” I trail off, searching my heart for any final misgivings.
I find none.
“I’ll give you mine,” I say.
They’re words that can’t be unspoken, and I release them knowing this.
But Juliet is surprised. She blinks at me, her brows twitching. Then she tilts her head. “Will you really?”
“What—were you not going to ask?” I say with skepticism. “I find that hard to believe.”
Her cheeks flush faintly. “I was,” she admits, “but I wasn’t going to push if you said no.”
I sigh, adjusting my hands on either side of her where I’m still leaned over, supporting myself on the desk. “If we’re going to do this,” I say slowly, “we should make ourselves equally vulnerable.” My gaze flits over her face as I move ever so slightly closer. “Don’t you agree?”
Because right here, right now, I’m making a decision. She gives and gives and gives. So going forward, I’m going to give her what I can in return, when I’m able. I don’t know that I can return all her romantic feelings. But I can make our relationship, whatever it is, less one-sided.
I think…Iwantto do that.
Her eyes jump to my lips as I draw nearer, and I control the impulse to kiss her again with an iron grasp. She nods then, looking back up to me.
“Can we stay like this for one more minute?” she says, barely more than a whisper. “Just one more?”
“One more,” I agree. The words slip out unbidden, because after this conversation, I’m not sure she’ll want to get this close again. For that matter, I might go home tonightwith a clear head and realize what an incredible mistake this has been.
So for now, we can stay.
Her grip around my neck tightens, like she realizes the same thing I do. That this might never happen again—and the way things stand, it shouldn’t. I’m her boss. Even worse, she’s about to become my assistant.
