Page 27 of Wes

Playing with a brown envelope that contains the court documents I must give Maria, I lean against the doorframe of her office and take in the view. I can’t help comparing the woman sitting at her desk, engrossed in work, with my memories. She doesn’t resemble the fiery tigress who matched each of my demands with a twist of her own in that hotel suite. The floral sundress she wears, with its loose top and knee-length skirt, hide her sinful curves. The ones that have turned these past sweltering nights into an inferno for me. Each time I fall asleep, I revisit our unforgettable evening and wake up thirsty for more.

Except, I can’t have her. I shouldn’t even consider the notion.

I shake my head to banish temptation and grate, “Hi, Maria.”

With a startled expression, she lifts her dark blue eyes from the printed papers spread in front of her on the desk. I hold my breath as her gaze travels upward to meet mine. A pang of embarrassment stabs my chest when her face contorts at the sight of my bruises.

“Hi,” she replies in a strangled murmur.

I take a step forward, eager to be near her, but freeze when I remember I owe her my best behavior. “I am so sorry for what I’ve done in that bar.”

Her eyes become round as saucers. “You are?”

I choose to ignore the furious blush that spreads from her neck to her cheeks. We’ve already established she doesn’t hold me in high regard. She gestures for me to sit on one of the three chairs across from hers. As I accept the silent invitation, I place the envelope on top of the papers on her table.

Nodding, I explain, “Besides community service, the judge sentenced me to attend some form of anger management program. Yesterday, I had my first session with a therapist. It was enough for me to understand how wrong my reaction was.”

I hold her stare as she weighs my words. I won’t confess I’ve been meaning to follow Logan’s and Erik’s footsteps and seek professional help. Therapy has been beckoning me for a while, but only after I met Maria it became pressing. The legal mess I’ve made worked like a kick in my ass to shove me into action.

“Glad you think that way.” She shuffles the sheets of paper around before leaving them stacked in front of her. She laces her fingers, plops them on top of the documents, and returns her eyes to mine. With a deep frown, she murmurs, “From what I’ve heard, it seems you overreacted to a couple of lame taunts and caused a lot of damage.” She pauses as if for effect and her lips tremble with a suppressed smile. “To your most treasured asset.”

Her last words come out with a smug grin that stirs my cock. I’d love to bend her over my knees, lift that dress, and spank the defiance out of her gorgeous ass. Those images send my blood rushing down my body, ringing in my ears, and stiffening my dick to the point of discomfort.

I stretch forward to set my elbows on her desk, getting as close to her personal space as the wide surface allows. I take my time probing her eyes, reading her expression, and remembering the little details about her face. The telltale hitch in her breathing and hard swallow don’t go unnoticed as I extend the silence.

But this little game of chicken I’ve started begins to bite my ass when my erection presses against the zipper of my jeans.

“I’m sure you’re talking about my black eye.” I glance down as if checking my tented pants, which she cannot see from where she sits. Thankfully. Returning to her face, I grunt, “But my most treasured asset is going strong and extremely happy to see you again.”

Maria blinks a few times in surprise before slumping back on her chair and sliding her mask of sarcasm back on. She lifts an eyebrow and scoffs, “I meant your ego. But I see that’s also intact.”

My heart thudding against my rib cage wants to believe that the vein throbbing in her cheek means she isn’t as cool about this as she pretends to be. And my painfully hard shaft wants to pick up where we left off a month ago in Brazil. But I must ignore both and do as my mind suggests. Adulting is as hard and painful as my fucking cock.

I raise my hands in surrender and hang my head. Scooching my ass back on the leather cushion, I lean against the chair, drop my hands on my thighs, and stare at her.

“I am sorry. I’m breaking a promise I made to myself on my way here,” I whisper.

“How so?”

“I’ve decided to make the most of this second chance I’ve been given. I want us to start over, to have a clean slate, you know?”

She tilts her head to the left, scanning my face as if for clues. I keep my expression open. With a slow shake of her head, Maria says, “I don’t believe that’s possible.”

Each of her words stabs me in the chest like a fucking poisoned knife and steals my breath away.

Before I manage to ask for her reasons, she offers them. “What happened in Brazil, and at that bar, belong in the past and we can’t change them. But we can’t honestly say we’ve forgotten these events. Or that we will.”

A long sigh of relief escapes me bringing a smile to her lips. And mine.

“True that,” I agree with a mischievous wink.

A glint beams in her eyes as she adds, “Now, what happens going forward will depend on the choices we make today. The present is all we have any control over. Agree?”

I nod with enthusiasm as my heart bursts at the seams. She isn’t shutting the door on the possibility of a future for us as I thought when she denied my suggestion of a new start. There’s hope yet.

“Absolutely,” I grunt.

“Wonderful. How about a tour of the place?” She claps her hands tight, surging to her feet.

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