Page 38 of The Proximity Effect

Ava: That’s because your ex had all the sexual appeal of a wet cardboard box. These guys clearly know what they’re doing to have you almost losing a finger. So what’s the problem?

The problem wasn’t that I felt bad about what had happened. The problem was that I wanted more. Of all of them. Possibly all at the same time. Was that even a possibility with their tumultuous relationship with each other?

Me: They’re my bosses. And friends. Sort of. And I think I’m in way over my head.

Ava: Honey, you’ve been treading water for years. It’s time to dive deep and see what happens. Try not to drown in all that hotness.

Ava: Actually, no, drown away. You deserve it.

I laughed, the sound bubbling up unexpectedly and loosening the knot of tension that had been living between my shoulder blades all morning. Leave it to Ava to make even my life sound like an adventure rather than a catastrophe.

A timer went off in the kitchen, reminding me that I had actual work to do. Real work that didn’t involve fantasizing about three very different but equally appealing men.

Several hours later, I was back in my office, staring at the menu drafts in front of me, but the words were starting to swim together. It was nearly ten, and the kitchen had been quiet for hours. I’d sent everyone home after another successful dinner service, proud of how quickly the team was coming together.

A soft thud from the kitchen made me look up. Through the crack in my office door, I watched as Archer, still in his suit minus the jacket, crept toward the freezer like a kid sneaking cookies at midnight. My heart did a completely unauthorized flip in my chest as I remembered the last time I’d caught him with his secret ice cream stash.

The way his lips had tasted sweet and cold.

The way his hands had...

I shook my head, trying to dislodge the memory before it could fully form. But it was too late—my face was already burning, and certain parts of my anatomy were staging a revolt against my better judgment.

He emerged from the freezer with his prize, and I waited for him to glance toward my office. The light was on; he had to know I was here. But he turned and walked out, not even hesitating.

Oh, hell no.I pushed back from my desk. This silent treatment had gone on long enough. Three days of polite nods and professional emails about kitchen budgets. Three days of him practically sprinting in the opposite direction whenever we ended up in the same room.

I followed him through the quiet resort, my irritation growing with each step. Of course he was heading to his office—probably to do more incredibly important things that apparently prevented him from acknowledging my existence.

He left his office door open, probably not expecting anyone to disturb him at this time of night. I paused in the doorway, watching as he sat at his desk, spooning ice cream into his mouth while frowning at his laptop screen.

“So this is what you do at night.” I leaned against the doorframe with mock casualness. The sight of him jumping made a tiny, petty part of me smile. “Eat ice cream and pretend I don’t exist? Very mature. What flavor is it this time? Cookies and avoidance?”

He looked up, spoon hovering halfway to his mouth, a droplet of melted ice cream threatening to fall onto his desk. “I’m not pretending you don’t exist.” His voice had a careful, measured tone, which only irritated me more.

I crossed my arms. “Really? Because you’ve barely said two words to me since I officially started working here. Which is weird, considering your tongue was in my mouth less than a week ago.”

The spoon clattered against the desk, sending tiny specks of vanilla across his desk. “Tessa…” He said my name like it physically pained him.

“No, you know what? I get it. You’re my boss now. We need to maintain professional boundaries. Fine. But you could at least look at me when we pass in the hallway instead of suddenly becoming fascinated by your shoes.” I gestured towardhis feet. “Though I’m sure they’re very interesting. Do they give you advice on how to avoid awkward situations? Because if so, they’re doing a terrible job.”

He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up in a way that made him look less stern and more like someone I wanted to climb like a tree. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Well, congratulations. This is way more uncomfortable than if you’d just acted normal.”

“Normal?” He stood up, his chair rolling back. “Nothing about this is normal. I can’t stop thinking about you, and that’s exactly why I need to maintain distance. Because the alternative is completely inappropriate and unprofessional and?—”

“And what?” I stepped into his office and closed the door.

His eyes darkened. “And dangerous.”

“I like dangerous.” Even though the most dangerous thing I’d done before coming here was trying to make beef Wellington without a meat thermometer.

“Tessa.” My name was a warning on his lips as he rounded his desk and walked toward me. “You should go.”

“Make me.” I backed into the closed door as he closed the distance between us, his forearms coming to rest next to my head.

Archer’s breath was hot against my ear, his voice a low growl that made me squeeze my thighs together. “I want to bend you over this desk and fuck you until you can’t walk straight. I want to hear you scream my name while I make you come again and again. I want to mark every inch of your skin with my mouth and my hands and my cock.”

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