Page 23 of Stuck On Them

“I honestly don’t mind doing most of it. I just need to know what’s a priority since it’s a pretty long list.” Plus, I didn’t know what the rest of the day was going to bring and if I would find myself crying in the bathroom, so prioritizing was going to save me… and them.

Garrett looked up from the paper, his gaze lingering on me for a moment before his eyes darted away. “I’ll talk to Sue and see what she thinks is best. I don’t want to put any unnecessary pressure on you.”

“Thanks, Garrett. I appreciate it.”

We finished our sandwiches in comfortable silence, but the tension between us was still palpable. And unfortunately, I couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if things had gone differently that night and Ryker had stayed.

I needed to have a good long conversation with Nora over some wine to flesh out all my feelings. She was the one who had encouraged me to experience life outside my comfort zone, and now look at the mess it had made.

Garrett and I left the deli and headed back in the direction of the office. We were about to turn right at the edge of a building when someone on a motorized skateboard came out of nowhere right in front of us.

I stumbled back, gasping in surprise as a blur of black and silver whipped past us.

Garrett caught my arm, steadying me before I fell. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I took a deep breath to calm my racing heart and leaned against the building. “That was just unexpected and the third time today I’ve been run into. It’s probably a sign to stay inside.”

Garrett’s hand was still on my arm, and I looked down at it. Even through my suit jacket, his warm hand sent shivers down my spine. I knew I needed to pull away, but I found myself frozen in place, not wanting to break the contact.

His eyes locked on my lips and my breath hitched. We were in our own little bubble; the sounds of cars honking, buses huffing, and people chattering fell away.

“You’ve got mustard,” he said in a husky voice.

I started to open my mouth to ask him what the hell he was talking about when he cupped my cheek and moved his thumb across the corner of my mouth before pushing his thumb between my lips.

I sucked on instinct—and okay, maybe because I wanted to—the faint hint of tangy mustard hitting my tongue. His breaths came quicker, and his eyes fell to my barely visible cleavage.

Releasing his thumb, I looked down. “Oh, oops. Glad that didn’t get on my shirt.”

I moved my hand toward where there was a small smudge of mustard right where my skin was visible. Garrett’s hand was faster than mine, and he grabbed my wrist, using his other hand to undo the button on my shirt that took my top from professional to one button too far.

“Garrett,” I whispered, looking around but finding no one paying us any attention. “Someone’s going to see.”

He made a strangled noise in the back of his throat, and he pulled my shirt apart just enough before he lowered his head to the spot.

Holy rat on a cracker.

Heat gathered in my belly as his tongue swiped across the mustard right at the start of my breast. My skin erupted in goosebumps and my nipples hardened, rubbing against my bra.

Oh, dear God.

I drew in a sharp breath as he licked me right in the middle of Manhattan.

His tongue was light, almost teasing, and I squeezed my thighs together for the second time around him, trying to ease the growing ache between them. When his head moved away, I almost whimpered at the loss.

And then he leaned forward and kissed me.

He swallowed my gasp as his tongue pushed through my lips and explored my mouth. I moved my hands to his waist under his suit jacket, but as soon as I made contact, he took a step back, his eyes hooded as he looked at me.

My hands fell to my sides and my stomach clenched at the loss of his lips against mine.

Had I lost my damn mind? Hadhe?

His hand raked through his hair. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” I hadn’t moved an inch from where I was against the wall. “I thought I was a mistake.” It wasn’t a question; I was just repeating what he’d said in the deli.

“It was out of line.Iwas out of line.” He didn’t look like he’d convinced himself of that. In fact, he looked like he was about to have a panic attack.

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