Page 48 of Crave Me

I rise, removing my glasses and placing them on my desk as I walk around it. “What are you doing here?” I ask, my mood lightening with every step I take.

Had I known she was coming, I wouldn’t have removed my jacket or tie, especially if I knew how she’d dress. She steps forward with a white paper bag clutched in her grip, the deep plum suit she’s wearing accentuating her curves, while making her appear thinner than she is.

“I was passing by and thought I’d bring you lunch.”

“It’s lunchtime?” I ask.

She laughs a little. “Technically it’s almost dinner.”

Ashleigh stomps toward the door, shutting it with a sharp slam. I’m too busy eyeing Wren to care. “You look lovely,” I tell her, reaching for her hand.

That’s a lie. She looks positively breathtaking.

She watches me kiss her hand, but then glances down as I release her. “Your hair’s getting long there, bossman.”

“Unfortunately, I haven’t the time for a cut,” I reply.

“I wasn’t complaining,” she tells me quietly.

Her expression softens the longer I stare. My God, she is stunning. Yet as much as I can’t stop looking at her, I notice she’s doing her best not to look at me. “It’s good to see you,” I say, troubled by her unease.

Her demure smile does little to assure me. “Want to eat?” she asks when I take a step closer. She shakes the bag. “I don’t want it to get cold.”

“Very well,” I reply.

She follows me to the conference table. I wish she’d lead so I wouldn’t have to take my eyes off her. She’s a reminder of what it is to feel like a man uninhibited by the burdens of an entire empire, one who can enjoy an evening with a woman without care or thought to the future.

I move another stack of work I have waiting for me and pull out her chair, my hand grazing her silky hair when she sits. She’s wearing the perfume she wore when I first met her, the one that reminds me of warming honey. I want to meet her mouth with mine. But this isn’t the morning following a very passionate night, it’s early evening following far too many days without her.

She lifts her chin and offers another small smile. It’s not wide like the one that lights her face when she laughs or shares a story from her childhood, but it’s enough to ease the pressure gathering along my shoulders.

I sit across from her to give her space. “How long do you have to eat?” she asks.

“Not long,” I admit.

“I guess I should have sent you a text.” She shakes her head. “I wasn’t sure I’d be allowed in, with the security you have in place. The first time, I had a truck on a flatbed and your signed paperwork to prove who I was and why I was here. This time, I just had me.”

“That’s all you need,” I tell her. “I informed my staff you’re permitted inside whenever you wish.”

Her demeanor switches from almost shy to wickedly playful. She leans forward, pretending to whisper and doing a horrid job. “I don’t think Ashleigh would agree.”

“I don’t care what she thinks,” I respond in earnest.

“Don’t get in trouble with the little woman because of me,” she teases.

“There’s a lot I would do for you,” I confess. “Regardless of who it unsettled.”

“Oh, yeah?” She adjusts the bag in front of her. “What have I done to deserve that?”

“You helped me find my smile.”

My words halt her in place. She squeezes her eyes shut as if pained. “Evan, you can’t say things like that.” She opens her eyes, appearing miserable. “It’s not what I need to hear.”

“I don’t tell you these things to win you over. I say them because I mean them,” I reply, wishing she didn’t feel so far away.

“That’s the problem,” she says. She sighs. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re too good to be true?”

“No.”

---