Page 139 of His Good Girl

I swallowed.

“You are not just a fling. You are not an office secret I use when convenient and put away when the calendar becomes difficult.” He took one step closer. “You are my employee here, and that matters. You are also Avery Hale, who has her own job to do and her own place to earn. That matters too.”

“And outside here?”

His eyes darkened.

“Outside here,” he growled, “you aremine.”

The words went through me so hard I could not speak.

“Mine because you choose to be. Mine because I choose you back. Mine because I spent the weekend in rooms full of liars and politicians and charlatans—which may be redundant—and still, every quiet second I had, I thought of you,” he ranted, his voice turning rougher.

My eyes stung.

“That was very good,” I quipped, because feelings frightened me and apparently sarcasm remained my emergency exit.

His mouth curved. A real smile, small and tired and entirely mine for that second. “Was it?”

“Alarmingly. Did Benjamin draft it?”

“No. Benjamin would have added subheadings.”

“And a liability clause.”

“Several.”

I laughed, and it came out embarrassingly unguarded. The sound filled the office too brightly, and for one second, I felt like a teenager with a crush, giddy and reckless and dizzy because the boy I wanted had just said something devastating and then smiled at me.

Callum’s gaze warmed.

“There she is,” he murmured.

“Oh, don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you like me.”

“I do like you.”

“That is not helping.”

“I don’t intend to help with that.”

Then he closed the distance and kissed me. The kiss was not like our first one. It started with his hand at my jaw, thumb restingjust beneath my cheekbone, his mouth firm over mine, and for one astonishing second I thought he might keep it gentle. Then I made the mistake of sighing into him, and his control shifted.

He backed me into the door with enough purpose that my body thrilled at the command of it. His mouth opened mine, his tongue sliding against mine, and I clutched at his lapels because there was nowhere else to put the force of wanting him. His other hand found my waist, then the small of my back, pulling me close enough that I felt exactly how much he had missed me. When he broke the kiss, my breathing was ruined.

“Did you think about me this weekend?” he asked.

I laughed breathlessly against his mouth. “No. I took up woodworking.”

His eyes narrowed, amused and dangerous. “Liar.”

“I did. I built a canoe.”

His hand slid into my hair and I went quiet immediately. His thumb stroked once near my ear.