Page 127 of Penalty to the Heart

My heart starts pounding when he gets up from his seat to walk behind my desk, leaning against it, mere inches away from me. After ensuring I’m good and rattled, he grabs a rubber band ball from my desk and begins tossing it into the air, catching it repeatedly.

“Luckily for you, I have another plan. A better plan.”

“I’m sure you do,” I grumble, not liking where this is going.

“How about a compromise? You’ll stay my therapist, help me get my spot back on the team, and I promise never to touch you again. Not until you beg me to, that is.” He winks flirtatiously.

“I can assure you, that won’t happen.”

“What won’t? That you won’t be my therapist or that you won’t beg me to fucking touch you?”

“Both.”

He smiles.

God, I hate it when he smiles.

It’s like he knows some secret that is all his and no one else’s.

I especially hate how his smile makes my heart skip a beat.

“Alright then. We can always go to plan B—march into Preston’s office right now and explain why you really don’t want to work with me.”

“Are you blackmailing me?” I ask, aghast.

“Me?” he parrots deviously. “Not in the least. I’m merely fighting for what I want.”

“And what exactly is that?” I seethe.

He gets up from the desk, walks straight over to me, and raises my chin with his knuckles.

“I want you to help me get my shit together so I can get my spot back on the team.”

My forehead creases since that wasn’t the answer I thought he’d say.

“And…” he drawls mischievously. “I want you. In my bed and in my arms.”

“That won’t happen.”

“Oh, Roxie, but it will.” He smiles widely. “You have until the end of the day to decide.”

He then bends down and presses a tender kiss to my cheek, making my insides melt with the sweetness of his action despite his intent of blackmailing me.

Only after I watch him leave my office do I let out the breath I was holding in my lungs.

What am I going to do?

If I tell the truth, then I’m as good as fired.

But if I don’t, if I continue to see Caleb, I’m not sure I won’t give in to him again.

The night we spent together will be permanently engraved in my mind, and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t replayed every second of it in my head.

Unable to make this decision on my own, I call the one person who has no dog in this race and can give me some good advice—Rex.

We agree to meet the next day at our usual spot.

As I sit on my favorite park bench, anxiously waiting for him to show up, I hear a familiar voice call out to me, “Why the sad face?” he asks when he arrives. “Oh, no. Is it one of those days?” he probes worriedly, mistaking my anxiety for melancholy.

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