Page 175 of Heart So Hollow

He gives an impish roll of his eyes, “But you’ve never actually said no to me,” then he shrugs, “except for that one time in Cincy, when you were trying to stick it to me.” With one look, he motions to the desk again, “Sit down.”

I hesitate, burning holes through his pale blue eyes. He holds my gaze until I slowly rock back on my heel and settle onto the edge of the desk, crossing my arms in front of me again.

Colson leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, rolling the chair forward a few inches. Then he clasps his hands, just inches from my legs, and looks up at me, “Did you know your office is in a blind spot?”

I knit my eyebrows in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“You can see who walks east to west and north to south in the hallways, but neither camera captures your door. The frames fall just short on either end.”

There’s a flutter in the pit of my stomach simultaneously as I feel my chest tighten. Part of me doesn’t want to know why he knows this or why he feels the need to tell me.

Colson drops his hand and hooks his fingers under the hem of my skirt, sending a ripple of goosebumps up my leg as he gently runs his fingers up the back of my calf, “Anyone can walk in or out, and you’d never know unless you pay attention to how long it takes them to walk from one frame to the next.”

I swallow, my throat suddenly parched, “Shouldn’t someone fix that?”

“Yeah, me,” he replies, “I just didn’t.”

I glance over my shoulder at the door, lingering on the brushed nickel handle and deadbolt right above it. The corridor is silent, like always, devoid of any other occupants.

“It’s locked,” Colson murmurs.

But I didn’t lock it.

My eyes dart back to him, his fingers still gliding up and down the back of my calf, still sending the same familiar shiver all the way up my spine. He reaches down with his other hand and brushes his fingers up the back of my other calf, his hands moving in tandem.

I don’t move a muscle, paralyzed as I watch him, “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to return the favor,” he says with a tilt of his head, “since you were such a good girl for me the last time I saw you.”

“What makes you think I want you to touch me ever again?”

“Baby, you’re such a terrible liar,” Colson scoffs, “you try to be mean to get back at me for getting under your skin, and it never works. But I let you try because I love seeing how much it bothers you. Your eyes are dilating right now while I’m telling you about it. You love this. Plus, I already know what it’s like for you to hate me and it’s not that bad. Being away from you is much worse.”

I stare down at him, my mouth ajar, “That is so toxic.”

“Because I want to do something nice for you?”

“Nice?” my voice cracks, my outrage palpable.

“I would’ve done it earlier,” Colson slides his fingers to the backs of my knees, making my thighs tense, “but since you insist on making things more difficult, as usual—”

“Challenging,” I interject softly, staring at the floor.

Colson pauses, and when I raise my eyes, the corner of his mouth curls.

Why do you provoke him? Why do you even engage? It only makes things worse.

But I can’t help it, fighting him is the addiction, the agonizing itch that needs to be scratched. When he rolls closer to me, I plan to spit out some snarky admonishment, but nothing happens. Instead, I stand motionless as his hands move further up my legs until my skirt hangs in the crook of his elbows. I draw in a deep breath as his fingertips slide up the backs of my thighs, hitting the edge of the desk.

Colson peers up at me, “Do I make you uncomfortable, Brett?”

I clench my jaw, “Goddamnit, Colson, of course you make me uncomfortable.”

He doesn’t miss a beat, “Why?”

I lean down, my face just inches from his, “Because I have a whole other life now. I haven’t seen you in three—four years now and all of a sudden you show up at my office and you work here and you carry a gun and you keep doing things to freak me out and I don’t know why you can’t just move on and be normal. I can’t just pick up where we left off because you woke up in Canada one day and suddenly decided you couldn’t let it go!” I suck in a lungful of air, having gone on far longer than I planned.

“But this is our normal,” he replies, utterly unfazed.

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