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“I think if everyone just focuses on their own work, the whys and hows of everyone else’s duties will be for those people to contend with, not us,” I say sagely.
Elevators really do kick you in the throat.
I’m being ordered to violate the non-disclosure agreement by the damn president of operations the same day his baby brother propositions me. I almost want to quit to go pick apples.
He’s hugging me. Just hugging me, and I think it broke my damn heart. His body goes pliant against mine, relaxing into my chest. My prediction was correct—we fit together perfectly, even more so when his hands move further up my back and grip like I’m an anchor he’s clinging to. He sighs again, a shaky sound of relief, pressing his face tighter against my neck.
He’s touch-starved, so heartbreakingly touch-starved that I don’t know how I didn’t notice it sooner. When his arms close tighter around me, I can’t help but wonder if I am, too.
fucking love the way he looks at me, like his brain has a special breathing setting reserved just for the sight of me.
Fake gay. Liar. Filthy talker. Toy inserter. I’m basically a goddamn psychopath.
“We did the hard part already.” His voice is gruff against my cheek. “We found each other. I’m not worried about anything else.”
It certainly isn’t like being uprooted in the middle of the night and flown across the country, but it feels like I’m in the witness protection program… in a Hallmark movie.
“Sometimes moral support from afar is better than jumping into someone else’s problems with a machete, like their life is a jungle.”
