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“How. Dare. You. You fucking rat bastard.”
“Vaughn,” she whispers, running both her hands through my soaked hair, “what are you doing?” “Shutting you up,”
Stupid, stupid, stupid. But also: Hot, hot, hot.
There’s wanting something you can’t have, and then there’s this—wanting something and knowing you’ll ruin it.
“I don’t want to talk. We’re not friends.” His words are like a paper cut. They sting, but don’t produce any blood. “What I want is you, straddling me, and I don’t let friends do that.”
“Give me a reason, Billie.”
“Say you want it, Billie,” he rumbles against my lips with a nip.
“Let me redefine that line you keep talking about: you are more than my employee and I am more than your boss. I’m done giving you space that we both don’t want. It’s not at all complicated. You’ll work with me during the day and underneath me at night. Every night. There will be no tiptoeing. There will be no running. There will be no one else.”
“Please don’t ever pretend we never happened.” He slides back up to look me in the eye, cupping my head with both hands. “You’re even more insane than I already thought if you think I could ever forget us.”
“What do I do?” “You tear that contract up and you beg
I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to forgive me, but I ask that you take some time. Days. Weeks. Whatever you require, and then please come visit me at the ranch. I want to see you, to explain myself and my actions in person. To give you a hug if you’ll still let me. My door is always open. I’ll always love you, Vaughn. Your Grandpa,
