Page 98 of The Lair

His eyes don’t leave me, watching my every blink and breath intake. I don’t lower my gaze either.

“You don’t have to wear it anymore,” I feel compelled to remind him when he says nothing. “The bet was one month. You can take it off.”

His eyes shift to the white ball. He only has two striped balls left to sink.

“I don’t want to take it off,” he says, simple as that, as he sinks both balls and wins the game.

“Why not?”

He doesn’t answer right away. He doesn’t say anything at all as he sets his cue on the pool table.

I don’t move as I watch my boss, the same man who told me I was his weakness, start toward me. He doesn’t stop until the tips of his boots graze my white sneakers.

He’s close. So close, I can feel every inch of his warmth. So close, he may be able to hear the frantic beating of my heart.

His voice is low, hoarse. His eyes don’t leave mine as he asks a question that I’m not sure I understand.

“You have no idea, do you?”

One of his hands hikes its way up, up, up, until the weight of his fingers settles on the nape of my neck. Fingers that start kneading my skin softly, as if he’s scared to break me. My lips part at the possessive gesture.

“You have no idea what you do to me. Do you, sweetheart?”

His voice is charged with a kind of roughness I’ve never heard before. Not from him, and not from anyone else. Ever. It’s a roughness that makes my heartbeat quicken, my stomach flutter, and the pressure between my legs grow heavier.

Travis is a whole foot taller than me, but suddenly his forehead is pressed against mine. Our proximity traps the air in my lungs, the words in my throat, and it kills every thought in my brain telling me to stop this before it’s too late.

I should tell him that whatever this is, it’s a mistake. Not because we work and live together and not because he’s twelve years older than me, but because I’m too broken, and I don’t know how to fix myself. If I even can.

“You really want to go on a date with some guy?” he asks roughly as his hand cradles my cheek, holding me with gentle firmness.

“No,” I tell him with every inch of honesty I have. “I don’t.”

I’m done lying to myself.

I’m done pretending that what I feel for him is infatuation or a mere crush.

Because the truth is, I’ve fallen in love with Travis. All in.

And I can only hope it doesn’t end in heartbreak as I unapologetically grab the metaphorical reins of my life and take a step further.

My nose nuzzles his. My voice is barely above a whisper when I ask him, “You don’t want me to go on a date?”

“Only if it’s with me.”

My heartbeat picks up when he uses those strong hands to hoist me up by the waist and set me on the pool table. He positions his body between my legs, his arms caging me until we’re mere inches apart.

“Fucking hell, Allie,” he rasps, forehead against mine, hands on my waist.

“What?” I breathe out, my eyes settling on his plump lips.

He shuts his eyes. “Tell me this isn’t right.”

I swallow. “I won’t lie.”

He opens his eyes to search mine, his gaze intense and scorching.

“Tell me this is a mistake,” he says.

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