More Love 3/5

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I want more of me, more of you
More wandering into night skies
From the sunrise side view
More deep breaths, more exhales
More winding off the road
For my story to tell
My story to tell
My story to tell

I kissed my boss.

I kissed. My. Boss.

And then I burst out of his car like it was about to catch on fire and I couldn't look at him for three entire days.

I was a grown woman who was avoiding someone she impulsively kissed because I couldn't handle it.

On day three of speaking to him only when I absolutely had to (and tension was so ridiculously fraught, I wouldn't have been shocked if everyone suspected something was going on), he asked me to come to the office.

I supposed I had expected him to look as beat up over the whole thing as I was. Wracked with guilt, completely regretful.

I thought wrong.

Sitting behind the desk, Bradley was as cool and collected as ever and full disclosure, I was kind of pissed he didn't show a single sign of evidence that he shared in my emotional turmoil.

"Guess we should talk about the other night."

I sat, crossing my legs. "Don't know what there is to talk about. I acted completely inappropriately, Bradley, and I'm so sorry. I know we have a sexual harassment policy and I'm fully prepared to face the consequences."

Okay, maybe I was laying it on a little thick, but I was deep in the throes of a shame spiral. I seriously thought I'd gotten all this impulsivity out of my system in my 20s.

"Stefani, take a breath. I'm not going to fire you. Or sue you, for that matter. I kissed you back. Remember?"

My memory took me to that night, to the moment before I came to my senses and considered what a fucking mess I'd be getting myself into. He was an incredible kisser. Soft and slightly rough at the same time, instinctively grasped my chin with two fingers in a particular way that sent shockwaves from the base of spine into my toes. He tasted like spearmint gum and damn, did he smell good. And he knew just what to do with his tongue, which was very important in the grand scheme of things.

I pursed my lips, knocking my foot into the front of the desk. "You know everyone talks about us, right?"

He blinked. "I wasn't aware of that, no."

"They do. I overheard Jason just yesterday. It's because you drive me home. Everyone thinks we're sleeping together."

"But we're not, so what does it matter? It's just idle gossip. Six months ago, I heard a rumor I was dating Megan Fox."

I knew it was just to get a smile out of me, but it worked. "Guessing there was no truth to that one, either."

"If there was, no one told me."

"Look, Bradley, it may not matter to you because you won't be the one slut shamed, but I don't go around trying to make out with the people that hire me. And coming on to you is just making them right about us."

"That didn't come out the way I-" He tossed his hands skyward. "I'm the one who should be sorry. Minimizing what you're feeling is shitty of me."

"Let's just forget it, alright? Just both admit it was wrong and move past it."

I walked away, not waiting for his answer.

It's better like this, I told myself. Getting involved with Bradley, no matter how charming he was, an actual nice, successful decent man in an endless sea of scumbags would lead to nothing good. For either us. Besides the rule you never mix business with pleasure, love had no place in my life right now, not when I was trying to get my career off the ground.

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