Page 98 of Left-Hand Larceny
“No.”
She tries to shrink, to retreat, but I don’t let her.
“I didn’t s-stop you b-b-because I don’t w-want it,” want you, I say. “We’re at w-work.”
She blinks.
“You o-once expressed c-c-concern about s-staying professional.”
I step into her space again, enough that she has to tip her head back to meet my eyes.
“If you w-want me,” I add, “T-take me h-h-home. I’ll make you f-forget your n-n-name. And make y-you c-come so hard you can’t w-walk straight tomorrow.”
Her breath hitches and her eyes go glassy. I can see her pulse thundering at the base of her throat. Her chest heaves as if she just did drills, not me.
“I will n-never say no t-t-to you,” I say. “But I will p-protect you. Even w-when you f-forget to protect yourself.”
Her shoulders slump a little. She looks like she might cry. Or fall into me again. Maybe both.
“I’m—”
“Y-you don’t n-need to be sorry,” I murmur. “There i-i-is never a m-moment where I don’t w-want to drink from b-b-between your thighs. But you o-once worried a-about optics.About how people s-see you. And I won’t r-risk your reputation f-f-for a kiss, no m-matter how badly I w-want it.”
She stares at me. Mouth parted. I wish I could read her thoughts.
“You really are the best man I know.”
“I’m t-trying to be.”
She takes a long breath. “Thank you. Ragnar” But she doesn’t take me up on my other offer.
I nod.
She’s trying to play it cool. Sitting beside me with her arms folded, one leg bouncing in a slow, anxious rhythm, pretending that my presence doesn’t crawl over her skin like fire. But her eyes flick to me too often. Her jaw clenches when our knees bump. She hasn’t said more than five words since I turned her down.
Not because I didn’t want her, but because I wanted her too much to let her cross a line. One I know she’d regret. I also know she isn’t sure she believes it.
I’m sure I triggered an old wound for her, given what I know of Christian. Even if I’ve never given her a reason to doubt me, I can recognize history has. It has messed me up too. I read rejection in the space she carved between us. The same way I did when communications between me and Amma fizzled right after my parents died. Hell, I probably have some issues surrounding their death and spending my formative years in a foreign country.
Nobody is perfect. We all have shit. Good and bad. But that doesn’t mean we don’t deserve grace.
I wait until the room goes quiet again, until even the air feels tense between us, before I lean in and ask, low and even, inches from the curve of her ear.
“A-are there c-c-cameras in here?”
Her head jerks up, startled. “What?”
“Security c-cameras. In this r-r-room.” I look up at the ceiling but don’t see any of the telltale domes.
She shakes her head, slow. “No. Just in the hall and in Greg’s office.”
I nod once. “Lock the d-door, Sadie.”
Her eyes widen. “Ragnar—”
“Please.”
Her breath hitches, but she rises and flips the lock with a small click.
