Her breath hitches and she says, “Jasper,” and I have to close my eyes at the way it sounds. Breathy and surprised and wanting.
“Kris, I . . .”
My voice trails off when she moves a hand to my cheek, my evening stubble rough against her smooth palm. I open my eyes and she’s watching that hand; she watches, almost dazedly, her own thumb as it moves to stroke over my cheekbone, and—holy hell. Unless I can move my lower half into the next state she’s going to know about the situation down there, and I try to focus on other things while she works out, works off whatever this uncharacteristic form of affection is. There’s a tinkling echo of holiday music coming from outside the conference room, something Carol must’ve left piping out of her computer speakers when she took off a couple hours ago. That alone ought to be enough to dull this buzz, since I hate this holiday. I hate that every year it takes me away from the things I’m best at and the people I care about the most.
I hate that it takes me away from this office.
From her.
“Jasper,” she says again, and she moves that thumb enough to press it, lightly, on the curve of my bottom lip. I feel like I live a lifetime in that second of pressure, like I see every fantasy I’m not allowed to have about her. Starlight, soft clothes, silence. “Kiss me.”
It’s a demand she’s given me, but I can hear something living beneath it, a little question in the words that makes my shoulders tighten. There can’t be a question there; there can’t. I’ve followed the rules for this, for us working together and being friends, starting this business together and making it a success. I can’t ever have Kristen regretting me. I’d never recover from it.
“Kris,” I say warningly, even though I don’t let her go. I take a breath, gathering the will I need to stop this. It feels beyond my considerable, long-honed resources of restraint. Carol’s computer speakers are tinnily piping out a version of “Let It Snow!” and I really, really hate that song.
“Do it,” she says, and she knows why that would work. She knows I love a challenge.
But what she doesn’t know is that I’ve always loved a chance to break the rules, and I’m so, so tired of following this one. The most important rule I’ve ever made for myself.
I’ve missed her for so long.
So I do it.
I press my mouth to hers.
Chapter Two
KRISTEN
December 15
It had felt like Christmas morning, kissing Jasper.
Like the thing you’ve been waiting and waiting for, lying in bed at night with wishes stacked up in your head. Like waking up extra early when it finally comes, the house dark and quiet and your ears straining to hear for someone else to stir, to give you permission to burst from your room and start the day’s celebration. Like holding in your hand a perfectly wrapped present, your hands fairly trembling with excitement. Is this the one? you’re thinking, holding it there. Is this the one I really, really wanted?
Like opening that present and finding—with a burst of irrepressible joy—that it absolutely is.
At my desk I let my eyes slide closed, blinking out the light from my computer screen, where I’ve been staring at the Nhung contract since I got here an hour ago. Going over it again like this—it’s the kind of thing I might’ve done last night, once I’d heard the “yes” I’ve been working to get for months. Six weeks from now Dr. Nhung will be starting a five-year stint with Möller Metals, a job I’m certain will make him happy, and an agreement that will bring Jasper and me one of the biggest recruiting commissions we’ve gotten since we started up fourteen months ago. A good salary bump for Carol in the next quarter, enough money to make some improvements to the office we’ve been waiting on. I could’ve heard that yes and gone back to my office, e-mailed my contact at Möller, opened this document, and let myself feel proud of what I’d done.
Instead I’d asked Jasper to kiss me. I’d practically dared him to.
And oh. Kiss me he did. One hand in my hair, one arm wrapped around my waist, a rough sound in his throat—
The sharp ring of my phone stops me from reliving it—again—and even before I look down at the screen I know it’s my older sister, and I know the lecture I’m about to get.
“Kris, you absolute hag,” Kelly says, her voice strained, her breathing shallow. I can hear the thud of her feet on her treadmill. She’s probably on mile four at least, her Bluetooth in her ear and her tablet in front of her face. Likely she’s been answering e-mails since mile one. “I have been waiting for hours. Did you get him?”
I have a flash of my thumb on the curve of Jasper’s lip. I cross my legs under my desk.
“I did.”
“What the hell,” she says, and I can hear her slap the stop button. “You said you’d call! I figured it went bad and you were off somewhere with Jasper drowning your sorrows.”
“It didn’t go bad,” I lie.
Because it did. It did go bad, once the kiss had stopped. One pause to catch my breath—who knows how long we’d stood there like that, arms around each other, lips and tongues tangling—and in that pause while I’d stared at him, taken him in and what we’d done, it’d been
