Page 58 of Never Let You Go

“What.”

“There’s lipstick on your shirt.” Jealousy sears through me like a tornado, a violent reaction I never saw coming. It devastates me.

It devastates me that he was out with another woman.

It devastates me more that I care this much. That I’m possessive of him although there’s nothing between us.

This I never felt for anyone.

I try to show nothing on the outside. But my heart hammers so hard inside my ribcage, I’m pretty sure he can hear it.

He ducks his head down to the spot, pulling on the collar so he can see. “It’s not what you think,” he says. We’re both talking in muted voices, so Skye won’t hear us.

I try to make as if I didn’t care. “I’m just saying, you might want to spray something on it before it sets in. Whatever it is.”

He continues rubbing it.

“You’re only making it worse,” I tell him.

He grabs the back of his collar, pulls his shirt off with the T-shirt that’s under it, balls up both, and throws everything toward his bedroom door.

He faces me, his bare chest heaving, and ohmygod.

I can hardly breathe. I’ve seen his chest before. I can confirm: I like it. So do my lady parts.

He’s a mass of muscle and pure sex. Does he know that? Does he know what he’s doing right now? Or does he think this is just laundry?

And does he really need to put his hands on his hips? It makes his sculpted pecs bulge. Or is that natural?

And do his biceps always flex that much? I never noticed that before.

He takes two steps toward me, until he’s too close for my sanity and I frown to force myself back to normal. A smile forms in his eyes but doesn’t quite reach his mouth. He’s holding it in. “Anything else you don’t like about my appearance, please. Tell me.”

I need to change topics. Fast. “Skye was a doll.”

His gaze softens at the mention of his daughter, and it does nothing to lessen my attraction to him. Quite the opposite. “Thanks for the picture,” he says. “That was… cute.” His turn to have trouble holding my gaze. His eyes fall on the rest of my body.

I need to get out of here, fast, before I do something I’ll regret. “I’m headed out. It’s karaoke night at Justin’s.”

He furrows his brow. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down. “Bakers go to bed early.”

My eyes dance from the file on the table to his shirt on the floor to his chest too close to mine. Does he not know how that dusting of dark hair is an indecent invitation? It starts where his dark brown nipples mark the apex of his torso and traces a trail all the way down to where his pants hang low on his hips. If I stay here any longer, I’ll be running my hands all over him. “I’ll be on time in the morning.”

He takes a step closer to me. “You’re under my supervision.”

“For the professional part.” God, why does he need to look so good?

“For every part of your life. It’s in the contract you didn’t read.”

The double meaning of his words stirs up a storm in my ovaries. “I read it. You’re responsible for my well-being. My well-being requires I let off steam by having unsupervised, adult fun at least once a week. Surely, you can understand that.” I glance at his shirt on the floor, the lipstick stain my witness.

“I need you at one hundred percent in the bakeshop.”

The words I need you heat up my insides. “Right.”

“I’m making a baker out of you, Pierce,” he whisper-growls as he brushes closer to me while he goes to his daughter’s bedroom.

“So,” I say, now that there’s a safer distance between us, “Skye has it in her mind that there might be something going on between Emma and you.”

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