Make Me Need. Katee Robert

      “I’m fine.”

      He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Which way?”

      She could keep arguing and let them both stand out in the cold or she could just give in and spend next week establishing that she didn’t want Cameron looking after her. She had an older brother. She didn’t need two.

       You don’t see this man in a brotherly light and you know it.

       Shut up.

      And he wouldn’t have stared at your mouth like that if he saw you like a sister.

       Seriously. Shut. Up.

      She picked up her pace and Cameron easily fell into step next to her. Even as she told herself to keep her smile in place and just accept his chaperoning, she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. “You realize I’m an adult, right? I can walk three blocks without having you shadow my steps and glower at anyone who looks at me sideways.” When he didn’t respond, her irritation flared hotter. “I have an older brother. I don’t need another one.” She jerked her thumb toward the door they’d stopped in front of. “This is me.”

      “Trish.”

      God, the things that man could do with a single syllable. She froze, her feet rooted to the ground as he stepped closer, his big body blocking the wind. This time, she couldn’t stop herself from swaying toward him, answering the gravitational pull he exuded. He didn’t move, but he didn’t have to. Trish went up onto her tiptoes and her mouth found his as if there had never been another destination for her.

      The contact shocked her right down her to bones. His lips moved against hers, cautious and then commanding, taking everything she gave and then demanding more. Her knees actually buckled at the slow slide of his tongue against hers, and Cameron caught her easily around the hips.

      He lifted his head, breaking the contact between them. All she could do was stare as he took his jacket from around her shoulders and shrugged it on. He nudged her to her door and waited for her to key in the code to get through. Then Cameron stood there until she shut the door firmly behind her.

      Trish watched him stalk away. Did that just happen?

      She’d just kissed her boss.

      On her first day.

      She pressed her shaking fingers to her lips. “I am in so much trouble.”

       CHAPTER THREE

      CAMERON SPENT ALL weekend cursing himself for kissing Trish back. He should have stepped away and clarified that they had a professional relationship only. Reminded her that she was his best friend’s little sister. Done literally anything except coax her mouth open with his tongue.

      Now he knew what she tasted like. And that she’d melted so sweetly against him at the first contact. Not to mention the delicious way she’d shivered when he’d grabbed her hips.

       Fuck me.

      When Monday morning rolled around, he almost decided to work remotely. That was the path of a coward. Better to rip the Band-Aid off now and deal with her hurt feelings and move on. It might make the workplace awkward, but if Aaron’s glowing praise of his baby sister was any indication, it wouldn’t get her down for long.

      It was only a kiss, after all.

      The elevator seemed to take twice as long as normal, and he had to concentrate to keep from fidgeting. Cameron had arrived thirty minutes early on purpose. If he was safely camped out in his office, hopefully they could just pretend that misstep on Friday never happened.

      The elevator doors opened and he barely made it a single step. If not for the walls being painted the same green he’d been elbow deep in a few days ago, he’d have thought he was in the wrong place. Comfortable-looking chairs—a warm sand color with a stripe of burnt red—were arranged on either side of the room. A leafy tree gracefully rose on either side of the window.

      A window that had new curtains to match the chairs.

      On the other side of the room, a water feature was arranged in the corner, a geometrical design with round stones and dark wood borders.

      There was even fucking art on the walls.

      When the hell did she find time to do this? She had to have put in long-ass days to find the pieces and haul them up here. He could comfort himself that they’d been delivered, but from what little he knew about Trish Livingston, he had no doubt that she’d physically carried every single piece up here herself.

      Without asking for help.

      Without once considering that she should ask for help.

      Irritation flickered closer to true anger. He eyed her desk as he passed, taking in the cheery flower arrangement, the stack of bright Post-it notes and the overflowing mug of equally bright pens.

      He clenched his jaw and headed down the hallway, but Cameron only made it three steps when the door to their mostly unused conference room opened and Trish herself appeared. She had a handful of paint color swatches in front of her face, and her brow was furrowed and her lips—red, today—were pursed. She hummed to herself. “This blue is too cold. No red. No yellow. I need a power color that’s not in-your-face.”

      He planted his feet, irritation derailed by sheer curiosity. And the woman, damn her, didn’t even notice him standing there. She ran right into him and bounced off his chest, and it was only his cupping her elbows that kept her from landing on her ass.

      “Damn!” Trish laughed. “Mom always said to keep my head on the here and now. Guess I should have listened, huh?”

      Cameron just stared. They were so fucking close, if she leaned a little farther in, he would be able to see directly down her flowy purple top. He averted his eyes and released her. “You’re here early.”

      “Lots of work to be done.”

      It was too fucking early for her to be this chipper. He shot her a look. “How much coffee have you had?”

      “Coffee?” She frowned. “I don’t drink coffee. It gives me the shakes and that’s just not my idea of fun. I stick with chamomile tea when I want something warm and cozy in my hands.” Trish’s blond hair was in a cloud around her shoulders today, her curls giving her an angelic look that was completely at odds with her fitted skirt.

       For fuck’s sake, Cameron, stop looking at her. She’s being professional. You’re being inappropriate.

      He cleared his throat and took another step back. “The conference room is fine. You don’t need to kill yourself for this job. The front office didn’t need to be finished so quickly.”

      She wilted a little, but then her smile brightened until it was damn near blinding. “I like the work.” Trish charged forward, and he had to scramble back to avoid making contact with her again. She glanced at him as if he was being ridiculous. “And, no, the conference room is not fine. You can’t expect clients to take your presentations seriously when there are spiderwebs in the corners and all the chair cushions are moth-eaten. I’ll take care of it.”

      That was what he was afraid of.

      “Trish.”

      She stopped in her tracks, and her smile dimmed to something closer to a genuine expression. “I was hoping we didn’t have to do this, but obviously you’ve been chewing on it all weekend.” Trish sighed and turned to face him fully. “Look, I’m sorry. I was out of line when I kissed you. I could give half a dozen reasons why it happened, but the truth is that it was inappropriate and I put you in a bad spot. So I’m sorry. Let’s pretend it never happened?”

      Cameron wanted to know what those half a dozen reasons were, but he couldn’t ask.