Then I see it. A picture I will never, ever unsee—and my mind drifts to places it shouldn’t.
“Hey, whatcha looking at?” Izzy’s voice makes me jolt.
“You scared the crap out of me,” I mutter.
“You’re late, you know,” Izzy shoots back.
“I could say the same to you!” I say as we walk together toward the building. “Not sure how they haven’t fired you yet.”
She tosses her hair over her shoulder. “Please. I’m too pretty to fire,” she protests, and continues talking about work, but all I can think about is Dylan’s photo and his words. I’m notthe person who steals hearts. I’m the one who gets her heart crushed.
When I step into my office, the smell of fresh wood and vanilla hits me. And there he is—Dylan. Looking like the sexiest sin in a filthy white T-shirt clinging to every muscle, arms flexing as he saws through a beam.
And fuck, I want him—hard, dirty, and completely ruining me.
I freeze, the door swinging shut behind me on its own as I clutch my purse. He’s completely lost in his work, oblivious to my presence… to my drooling face.
If only the fantasies in my head could come true for just one day. Just one hall pass. Or better yet, the whole damn school pass.
God, forgive me for these unholy thoughts.
He wipes the sweat from his face, and then his hazel eyes meet mine. His eyes that practically screamcome fuck me.A smile spreads across his lips, wrecking me on impact. The world stops. My breath falters. And for a brief moment, I forget why my life is a mess or why I even came into my office.
Why am I here? Think, Jenna. Use your words.
I scramble for an excuse—anything that doesn’t sound completely ridiculous. “Hi, Dylan. I was… um… looking for my pen.”
A pen, Jenna? That’s the best you’ve got?
He turns to me, one brow raised in that cocky, Dylan way. “By pen, do you mean you were… um… looking for this really hot guy you can’t stop thinking about?” He smirks, and it’s lethal.
“No!” My cheeks burn, my voice sharper than I intended. “I mean I was looking for my lucky pen. And—” I yank his phone from my purse and drop it on the table. “I wanted to return this.”
Then I grab the nearest pen on the desk and wave it around nervously. “Found it. So… I’ll be going now.”
Dylan steps closer. His gaze flickers to my mouth, then back to my eyes, and I swear he can see straight into me.
My breath hitches.
When he takes the pen, his fingers brush mine, sending a shockwave up my arm.
Fuck. Me. The chemistry is combustible. Explosive.
One touch, and the air thickens. One look, and months of restraint, tension, and every wall I’ve built comes crashing down.
Maybe it’s that photo—him, shirtless, riding a horse on a beach like he’s the damn stallion.
He flips the pen over, smirking. “You sure this is your lucky pen?”
My pulse pounds faster.
“I guess it could be… Since my name is engraved on the side,”he says, taking my hand. He turns it over and places the pen back in my palm and doesn’t let go. My whole body tenses, shivers racing up my spine.
“Tell me you don’t feel it,” he whispers, his mouth so close I can almost taste him.
He inches closer, his breath warm against my skin.
“Tell me your mind isn’t racing, imagining all the things you want to do to me.” His fingers trace featherlight circles over my thumb. “Tell me you’re going to walk out that door, leaving me here without knowing what your lips taste like. What your tongue feels like inside my mouth. What it sounds like when you scream my goddamn name.”
