Page 109 of Take It Offline

I love this guy. “What’s it going to cost me?”

He glances at Emma, then turns back to me with a brow raised meaningfully. Nothing gets past him. “Don’t worry ’bout it. I never get to do anything fun anymore.” But I hear the truth as if I’d said it myself. Ambitious assholes who don’t have an ethical bone in their body are everywhere. Getting to stick it to a couple of them without stooping to their level won’t change the system, but it’ll feel damn good.

An hour later, I get a text from Manish that makes my day:Keystroke recordings caught our buddy faking it while working from home. Already sent the report. Cheers, M.

I tap Emma on the shoulder.

“Report’s been sent. Now we wait.”

“You know,” she says, her voice soft, her tone far too reserved for my liking, “it might not be enough. Guys get away with this all the time.”

I move in close. Too close to be appropriate for the office. She’s wearing a baby blue sweater and a frown, and I want to rid her of both. “It’s not like you to play devil’s advocate.”

It wins me a small smile. “I don’t usually need to. You advocate for yourself just fine.”

CHAPTER 36

MY ONE RULE (IS YOURS TO BREAK)

EMMA

Three months into my job, I discovered that what is simple in theory can easily become aspontaneous chop because I destroyed my hair with bleachin practice.

It’s also been true in other areas of my life.

In theory, I enjoyed sex. In practice? Well…

Except it turns out, I was wrong about that.

I like foreplay and teasing, through words and flirting and touches. I like taking my time, enjoying the anticipation. I really like toys.

In the past, I’ve focused on making it good for my partner, too busy with their pleasure to enjoy my own.

It turns out that I simply wasn’t having sex with people who wanted to make it good for me too.

Until Charlie.

And I really need him to feel the same, because it’s high time I made it good for him.

Come Saturday morning, Charlie answers his door in sweatpants and a Queen T-shirt. Holy shit. I didn’t think he could make anything look sexier than a tuxedo, but dammit, he does.

I’ve rubbed shoulders with actors and greeted congressmen. I’ve shaken hands with multimillionaires. But Charlie Walker bends gravity by simply walking into a room.

The laws of physics don’t apply when he’s near. How could they when his smile stops time and his hands reshape my pleasure into all-consuming need?

“Hey,” he says, his voice thick with sleep. “Miss me already?”

“I did,” I admit. It’s a loose thread that’s been bothering me, the sharp end of a stitch that keeps snagging on my skin.

I’ve been wanting to kiss him for weeks, kicking myself for my own rules. I buried the urge as best I could until the other night, and now, in the kissless days since, it’s all I can think about.

He wants it too. That much has been so obvious I’m shocked HR hasn’t already sent us a cease and desist.

But he’s held off.

Because I asked him to.

God, he’s good to me.

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