Wilder:Your door locks locked?
Rose:All four.
Wilder:Sleep well.
I don’t respond and really do try to sleep well. I even consider having a little wine for help. But I’m too tired to get up and eventually fall asleep.
25
Wilder
Rose has been working from the cottage the last two days. And I can’t say I blame her.
It’s Thursday and she’s supposed to bring me payroll to sign off this morning and then get them to Ginger.
I’m at my desk, elbow propped on the wood, running a hand down my face for the tenth time in the last hour. I take another swig of my iced coffee.
I hate it. But the smell and the taste remind me of her. And it helps with keeping me up in the mornings since I haven’t been going back to my house to sleep until well after all the lights flicker off in her cottage.
I had to keep myself from knocking on her door several times. Rose clearly asked for space. And I need to give it to her.
Because I’m the asshole who humiliated her when she was just trying to help.
She’s so innocent. Sees the best in everything except when it comes to herself.
I swallow back the lump in my throat thinking I made it worse the other day.
The memory is sharp—her face flushing, the way she’d swallowed hard, green eyes blazing with hurt before rushing off. And now, she’s avoiding me.
No late morning excuses, no quick-witted comebacks.
Just silence.
The creak of my office door snaps me out of my thoughts, and I sit up straighter as Rose steps inside.
And just like that, she takes my breath away again.
Her hair is tied in a low, loose ponytail, tossed over one shoulder. She’s in a denim jumpsuit of sorts that falls just above the knee. A white, long-sleeved fitted shirt underneath.
I resist pushing off my seat and pulling her into my arms when she reaches the other side of my desk.
“Payroll totals are all set. Counted twice,” she says, voice even, polite. She barely meets my eyes as she holds them out to me.
“Thank you.” I don’t grab them from her. I leave her hanging for a bit. I could be a jerk and insist I need her to work with me today. Tell her this isn’t a work-from- home job.
But that won’t do any good.
I watch her until she looks at me. God, she’s stunning. And why the hell do I see guilt in those pretty green eyes? I need a smile.
I glance at the cards. “What’s a man got to do for another game of tug-of-war with you over on this side of my desk?” I grin.
She fights one back and sets them down. “Trust me, you don’t want me falling all over you.”
Oh,IthinkIdo.
But in what sense? Does it matter? Because I’m ready to take what she’ll give me.
Self-control fucked, I push off my chair and go to her, lifting her onto my desk and stepping between her legs. The way sheopens them for me is doing a number in my pants.
