Page 114 of Played By Design

I tap the confirm button and wait for it to load. Estimated arrival, eighteen minutes.

My breathing slows.

Since Kain took his medication at eight, this means I only need to shift today’s schedule by half an hour. I can do that.

I write a reminder at the top of the notepad so I don’t forget when I go back to my office.

Light fingers brush the back of my neck. “Do you need to update your alarms to match today’s new schedule?”

I nod as my body curls toward his heat.

Together, we update the alarms on my phone one by one. We move closer and closer, until I’m tucked into his side, my nose turned into his neck, seeking the pheromones I’ve denied myself for three days.

A low rumble vibrates in his chest, and the hand on the back of my neck urges me even closer.

I want to climb into his lap, to wrap my body around his and take the comfort he’s offering. I’ve missed it so much, missed him.

Before I can stop myself, my arms encircle his waist.

A hiss of pain shatters the moment, and I scramble backward on the couch, my pulse racing.

What did I almost do?

“No, Bunny, it’s okay.” He tries to draw me back. “It didn’t hurt. I’m okay.”

Liar. It hurt.

The doorbell rings.

“Food’s here!” I bolt for the front door. “I’ll get it!”

I pause at the window to check outside.

Luca’s car sits at the curb, and he raises a hand, palm flat.

All’s clear.

I open the door, but instead of breakfast, I find a different delivery person waiting on the porch.

His name tag says Devon, and he stands with his lean frame angled toward the street, his close-cropped brown hair catching the morning sun. His face pings my memory. I’ve seen this courier at the Blue Note a dozen times, picking up and dropping off packages.

He wears gloves despite the mild morning, the charcoal fabric stark against the paper-wrapped bouquet he holds out. “Delivery for Kain Rhodes.”

I take it, the paper crinkling under my fingers, thick and expensive.

He gives me a salute and jogs down the steps, but the card tucked between the stems has already caught my attention.

I pull it free.

Kain —

Heard about what happened. Hope you’re recovering well. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.

— Julian

A cold, ugly heaviness settles in my chest, and I make my choice without considering what branches it might open or close.

Turning on my heel, I march to the kitchen.