Page 141 of His Good Girl

“You like that I’m older,” he said.

I closed my eyes.

“Avery.”

“Yes.”

“Look at me when you answer, young lady.”

I opened my eyes. His face was close enough that I could see the faint shadows beneath his eyes, the tiny lines near his mouth, the control he wore like a tailored suit and the heat moving under it.

“Yes,” I whispered. “I like it.”

His breath left him slowly. For one second, I thought he would kiss me again and not stop. Instead, he released my wrists.

I stared at him.

The loss of his grip felt like a reprimand.

He stepped back half a pace, though his hands hovered near my waist. “And sometimes,” he said, voice still rough but steadier now, “that same man needs to send you back to your desk.”

I blinked. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“You kissed me like that and now I’m supposed to go format summaries?”

“Yes.”

“That is cruel and unusual punishment.”

“That is Monday.”

“I hate Monday.”

“You have work to do, young lady.”

I stared at him, still flushed, still breathing too fast, still pressed against the door with my body loudly protesting the existence of professionalism.

His gaze softened. “This is not a one-time thing. This is not something I took from you on Friday and plan to ignore moving forward because the weekend made it inconvenient,” he said. “It is not just sex. It is not only secrecy. It is also not going to swallow your job whole. Do you understand?”

I nodded, then corrected myself before he could.

“Yes.”

“You want to make your way up in this company?”

“Yes.”

“You want Dana to respect you?”

“Desperately.”

“You want Benjamin to stop calling you a sentimental variable?”

“I’ve adjusted my expectations there.”

His mouth twitched. “Then you will work. You will let Dana manage your development. You will let Benjamin be unbearable when he is right. You will not rely on me to make things easier for you.”