Page 33 of Keeping It Professional

“Well…”

“Fuck it. Who cares?” He lifted me up and flipped me onto my back, my legs wrapped around him, his hand braced on the wall. Then he slammed into me so deep my head spun. Heat crashed through me in waves and I felt my toes curl. Who cared? Not me, not one little bit. All that mattered to me was Miles in my arms, his racing pulse next to mine, his hand in my hair. He was holding my head to keep it from bumping. Twisting my hair as our rhythm picked up. It hurt in a good way and I moaned his name. He gasped mine, then shouted it, and then he went still. I felt the shudder run through him, and then through me, a tide of completion that took us by storm. It crashed over and through us and left us spent.

Miles rolled to one side of me and dragged the blanket up over us, but it was cold from the floor and I squirmed in his arms. He held me close till I felt his pulse slow.

“We should get dressed,” he said.

I didn’t think I could move.

“Reeves? You awake?”

I chuckled into his chest. “We’re back to last names?”

“Sophie. Get dressed.”

“Ugh. Do I have to?” I didn’t want to shake free of his arms. The minute I did, we’d be back to coworkers, and I didn’t want that. I wanted more. I wanted his hand on the back of my head, keeping me from bumping up on the shelf. I wanted that kindness he kept hidden away, and I wanted it every day, not just this once.

The radio crackled, this time for real. Miles let me go, and we both scrambled up. He jerked his pants up while I searched formine. When I closed my eyes, I could still feel his touch, and my whole body ached for it.

“Fifteen minutes,” called Miles. “They’re on their way.”

I should have been relieved, but what I felt was loss.

What I wanted was more of Miles. All I could get.

CHAPTER 12

MILES

Ihad this tradition when I was bowling — or not a tradition, but a signature move. Kind of a dick move, if you asked Brian. I’d let the ball go then turn away, not needing to see the pins clatter down. It was half-joke, half-flex,I’m just that good.

Iwasthat good most days, but today, I was off. Today, I stood watching as the ball rumbled off. It went straight at first, then curved to the left, a slow, gentle swerve into the gutter. Brian laughed, the asshole.

“You need the bumpers?”

I flipped him the bird.

“Seriously, what’s with you? You sore from your crash?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” I rolled my shoulder where my seat belt had dug in. It twinged some, but not enough to mess up my game. I’d been stiff the next day, but whether that was from the crash was anyone’s guess. It could as easily have been from my exertions right after, all crammed in with Sophie on the tight bench.

Brian’s brows rose. “What’s that face?”

“What face?”

“Yourface.” He shifted his ball from one hand to the other. “You’ve been off all day. If you’re not in pain, why?”

I sat down. “Just bowl.”

“Not till you talk.” Brian set his ball down and perched on the return. “Is it something I said? Those crash victim jokes?”

I laughed. “It’s not you.”

“But it’s something.”

I groaned. The last thing I needed was Brian up in my business. Oranyoneknowing I’d crossed the line. What happened that night had been stress relief. A surge of adrenaline, and we’d lost our minds. That surge was gone now, and we were both adults. I’d see her on Monday and we’d talk things through — or, better yet, we’d let it go. She knew, same as I did, what shock could do.

“Is it that partner of yours? You worried she’ll sue?”

---