Page 39 of Breaking News

I tugged away, putting a foot of space between our bodies. “I’m sorry, we can’t.”

She raked her fingers through her hair. “Oh God, I’m so sorry.”

“No. It’s on me. You’re vulnerable, and I’m your boss and I took advantage. I’m a real fucking asshole, Jill.” I was struggling to catch my breath, and I could barely get the words out. I dropped my hands from her body, taking another step back. “I’m sorry.”

She smoothed out her dress, taking a step backward. “Okay. We can just forget this, like you’re going to forget seeing my panties when I fell down last night.”

“Already forgotten.” I could envision every detail of the white lace edges of the leg openings without even closing my eyes.

Jill let out a nervous laugh, angling her body away from mine. “Right. Good.” She brought her hands together like she was saying a prayer. “Yeah, I’m going to go now.”

I placed one hand on the doorknob. “Careful. Lawn’s wet.”

Another dorky, nervous laugh. God, I loved that laugh. “Got it. Thanks.”

She pulled her keys from her purse and made her way to her car parked at the front of the Gardners’ house. I stepped all the way inside and closed the door, the latch sounding a little louder than normal.

My house felt emptier than it had the day I moved in.Tooempty. Too quiet.

I pressed my back against the front door with my hands in my pockets, sighing. “Shit,” I whispered, trying to imagine how I could possibly move on from this. How could I look at her the same now?

Had she actually been attracted to me this whole time, too? I smiled as I considered this, staring down at the tile floor.

And before my mind had time to wander, there were three knocks on the door behind me.

chapter thirteen

Jillian

The book.

That could be my excuse for walking back up Graham’s walkway. My book was still on the floor in his foyer, drying on a vent. He’d probably think I forgot it on purpose, but when my knuckles met his heavy wooden door, I no longer cared.

Please, please, please.

What was I even begging for? What exactly did I want him to do when he opened that door?

His words from the night before repeated in my mind:“Some men don’t need an instruction manual.”

And some men, when you knock on their front door after a kiss that ended too soon, knowexactlywhat to do. They anticipate your needs before you can even form the thought yourself. And they pull you into their dark foyer, pin you against the door, and fill your mouth with their tongue before you can even get out the words, “I forgot something.”

My purse dropped to the floor, and I smiled against Graham’s mouth, his tongue gliding over mine as his hands traced downmy back. “I’m trying to be good,” he said before cupping my ass and lifting my body, “but this dress is making it so damn hard.”

Instinctively, I wrapped my legs around his waist, crossing my feet at the ankles as my back pressed flat against the door. “I know,” I said, breathless as he kissed my neck. “I can tell.”

And I could.

Oh, how I could tell.

Graham buried his face against my collarbone, his hot tongue tracing a line along my skin while his erection pressed against my center. “Tell me you’re not still drunk from last night,” he said against my skin in a desperate whisper.

I held his face in my hands, making him look at me. “I fantasize about you sober. All the time.”

Those must’ve been the magic words. His mouth crashed into mine again, eager and urgent, his body pinning me harder against the door. I ran my fingers through his hair, giving it the gentlest tug. Graham growled against my mouth, and I could feel his restraint slipping even more. “You have no idea how badly I need you right now,” he said, his voice rough and breathless as he reached back, removing each of my shoes, throwing them aside.

I tightened my legs around his waist, my fingers resting on the back of his head. “I’m all yours, Graham,” I whispered, my lips brushing against his.

Nothing else existed in that moment. We weren’t CEO and employee. We were just Jillian and Graham—two people satisfying a need.

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