“I want you tonight, Carter.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it hit me like a shout. I’ve wanted you for months and I’m tired of pretending I don’t. Before I could respond, she kissed me and everything changed. The second her lips touched mine, every careful thought I’d ever had disappeared. She kissed me like she’d been starving for it, like all those months of tension and wanting had finally snapped.
My hands found her waist and pulled her inside a kicking the door shut behind us. Her fingers tangled in my hair and she made this small sound against my mouth that nearly killed me. We stumbled backward into my apartment. I barely registered where we were going. All I knew was the taste of her.
The feel of her body pressed against mine. The way she was breathing my name between kisses like it was the only word she remembered. My back hit the wall. She pressed against me, her hands sliding under my shirt, fingers cold against my skin. I groaned, and she pulled back just enough to look at me, her eyes wild and bright.
“Is this okay?” she asked, breathless. I answered by lifting her up, her legs wrapped around my waist, and I carried her to the couch, setting her down and following her back against the cushions. We were a tangle of limbs and desperate touches, trying to get closer, trying to make up for all the times we’d stopped ourselves. But then something shifted.
She broke the kiss suddenly, her hand flat against my chest. I pulled back immediately, searching her face. “Wait,” she whispered. “Carter, wait.” I moved off her, sitting back, trying to catch my breath. “What’s wrong?” She sat up, running, shaking hands through her hair. I can’t do this.
The words hit me like cold water. Okay, that’s okay. We can stop. No, I mean, she stood up, pacing across my small living room. I can’t do this to you. This isn’t fair. I stayed on the couch, watching her, confused and still reeling. What are you talking about? She turned to face me, and I saw tears in her eyes. real tears.
Sloan Mercer, who never showed emotion at work, who was always in control, was crying in my living room. “I got a job offer,” she said quietly. “In Seattle, regional director position. It’s everything I’ve been working toward. Triple the salary, real authority, a chance to actually build something.” My stomach dropped. when they called me this afternoon.
They want an answer by Monday. She wrapped her arms around herself. I was going to take it. I’d already decided. It’s the smart move, the career move. Yeah. But then tonight, I was sitting alone in my apartment thinking about leaving and all I could think about was you. I stood up, walked over to her.
Sloan, I came here to tell you, she continued, the words spilling out now. I came here to tell you about the job and to finally admit how I feel about you, even though it’s insane and inappropriate and probably career suicide. But then I got here and you looked at me like that and I thought maybe we could just have tonight.
One night where I don’t think about consequences or what’s smart. just one night where I get to have what I want.” She wiped her eyes roughly, smearing mascara across her cheek. “But I can’t do that to you. I can’t sleep with you, knowing I’m leaving. That’s not fair. That’s not who I want to be.” I reached out and gently wiped the mascara from her face with my thumb, and she closed her eyes at the touch.
