Page 40 of Kisses and Paperclips

She pushed back from her desk, fast. “There is no you and me, Julien.”

I stepped in, closing the space. Not enough to intimidate, but enough to be felt.

“Then let me give you some advice.” I stepped into her space, close enough to see the way her pulse jumped at her throat. “Stop letting her see she’s getting to you.”

She blinked, just once.

“You know your worth, Serena. So show it. Walk into that boardroom like your name’s already on the damn building. Remind them they’d be lost without you.”

She crossed her arms, but the fight was starting to loosen in her shoulders. Just a little. She was listening.

“And how exactly do you suggest I do that?” she asked, her tone lighter now, but still edged.

I let a slow smile pull at my lips. “You already know how. You just forgot for a second.”

Her eyes narrowed again, but this time with curiosity. Like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to punch me out or pull me closer.

“Careful,” she murmured, that mouth just barely tilting into a smirk. “You’re starting to sound like you believe in me.”

“I already do.”

“And of course there’s an us.” I leaned in, close enough to watch her pupils dilate. “You just snuck out of my bed before we could figure it out.”

Her lips parted, but instead of words, her palms pressed against my chest, not shoving, just pausing. “No strings, no complications. Remember?”

Her voice was ice. But I heard it—the fracture beneath, the hitch in her breath when my fingers brushed her waist.

“So you don’t want me as much as I want you right now?” My thumb traced the frantic pulse at her wrist.

“No.” Too fast. Too sharp. A lie so thin I could taste it.

I tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet my gaze. “Liar.”

She exhaled, and for a second, I thought she’d cave. Then her spine straightened, that familiar fire reigniting. “I don’t sleep with people I work with.” A beat. “And once is usually more than enough.”

The jab landed, but her body betrayed her—the flush on her neck, the way her thighs pressed together. I crowded her against the desk, my voice a graveled whisper. “Prove it.”

Her breath hitched. “Julien—”

“Tell me you’ve forgotten.” My knee nudged between hers, and she gasped. “Tell me you don’t ache.”

Her fingers dug into my biceps, clinging and pushing. “This is not helping.”

“Isn’t it?” I brushed my lips over her temple, felt her tremble. “You’re thinking about it now. Just like I knew you would.”

A shudder ran through her.

“…You’re insufferable.” But her grip loosened, her forehead dropping to my shoulder. Just for a second. Just long enough to feel her surrender.

I grinned against her hair. “But you like it.”

She didn’t deny it.

I can’t help the grin tugging at the corner of my mouth. She’s trying to sell this lie, but her body is singing different tune.

“Spread those pretty thighs and show me.”

Her lips parted, just slightly, a breath catching at the back of her throat like she wasn’t sure if she was going to speak or surrender. Her fingers clutched the edge of the desk behind her, steadying herself. Like she knew one more move from me might undo her completely.

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