CHAPTER SEVEN

It's Friday— the last day of the bet.

In less than two hours, Mr. Ettin is going to march into my office and demand…the unthinkable.

My eyes water and burn from staring so hard at the screen, running campaign numbers while praying for a different outcome—except it doesn't matter how many times I check, the results are always the same.

I lost.

It's utterly galling. I wasn't supposed to lose! For one thing, I really wanted those gender neutral bathrooms for everyone in the building, but that Mr. Ettin won sucks the most.

He'll rub this in my face for the rest of my days. I slap my hands on top of my desk, wincing at the pain stinging my palms.

Part of me wants to hide in my office and hope that my boss doesn't look under the desk, but I know he'll be here soon.

Goodness knows that if the numbers were in my favor, I would prance onto his floor with paint brushes in hand and a satisfied grin on my face.

Thirty minutes until quitting time, and I'm practically bouncing in my chair. There's no way Mr. Ettin forgot about the bet.

Oh god, he's toying with me.

That evil, sadistic, handsome bastard is purposefully letting me stew while my nerves build up because when he does show up, I'm going to have to…

My face heats as I think of his prize—a kiss. A kiss! My throat tightens just thinking about Mr. Ettin's smug face when he made that particular demand, knowing it would fluster me.

At ten minutes until I'm officially off, I make a decision—to address all of this on Monday. At least then, I'll have the weekend to come up with something to get out of having to touch the man.

Honestly though, if the guy knew the last time I kissed someone, he might think again. My smooching skills are beyond rusty.

With shaky hands, I toss my phone into my purse and turn off my computer. If I sneak out now, there's little chance of Mr. Ettin catching me.

After a quick look outside of my office to make sure my boss isn't already on my floor, I powerwalk to the stairs, ignoring everyone around me.

For all they know, I'm just using the restroom. I've never left work early before, too scared of the consequences, but today's the exception.

The beautiful thing about taking the stairs is that no one uses them—not when you're on the fortieth floor.

I skip down two flights, nearly giddy with my success. The pressure on my chest lifts, and I'm nearly buoyant with exultation.

Until I round the corner and slam into Mr. Ettin.

"Heading out early, Wyn?"

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.

A jittery laugh escapes me as I try to act like my world isn't imploding. "Oh hey, Mr. Ettin. I was just off to use the restroom…in the lobby. So, ah, have a good weekend!"

"A very interesting fact about Boggarts—we can tell when someone is lying. Because we can sense others' emotions so accurately, it's like having a built-in lie detector."

My fake smile wobbles.

If he can sense a lie, what else has he noticed?

"That's so interesting. I did not know that about Boggarts. Growing up, u??í—my grandma—told me that lying is how the jackrabbit got its long ears."

Mr. Ettin steps closer, pushing the long curtain of my hair back. "Hmm, no long ears. I guess you're not a jackrabbit, just a liar."

An angry growl wells up inside of me, but I tamp it back because I know the man is just trying to get a rise out of me.

"I wasn't lying—I am going to the lobby to use the restroom."

"Uh-huh, and what about our wager? I'd have thought you'd want to go over the campaign's figures with me."

He grins, exposing his sharp, pointed teeth, and I swallow as my throat goes dry. Shaking my head once, I try to step around my boss.

"It's Friday afternoon. I figured you have big weekend plans, and I don't want to inconvenience you. We can just talk on Monday."

"Now is fine."

"N-now?"

His chuckle washes over me, and my knees threaten to buckle. "Yes, now, Wyn. I want to hear you say the words—tell me I won."

"Why?" I balk.

"You know why. I'm here to claim my prize."

My breath hitches in my chest as his gaze moves down to my mouth. "I…I don't think you want to kiss me, Mr. Ettin."

"It's Bash, and the fuck I don't."

For a moment, my mind goes blank at hearing him swear, and then, I process his words. They send a bolt of desire streaking through me.

"Alright, you won. Happy now?"

"Not as happy as I'm going to be."

Mr. Ettin—Bash—crowds in even closer, lowering his towering frame until I'm obscured by his shadow.

I inhale sharply, my whole body sparking with tiny embers of need as doubt and lust war within me.

Nerves flare, and I tremble before getting a grip. All Bash wants is a kiss—a tiny, insignificant kiss.

What's the worst that could happen?

It's bad enough that he won this stupid bet. I'll be damned if he wins anything more from me, including my worry about something as paltry as a peck on the lips.

So I grab his bright blue tie—that matches his hair perfectly—and yank Bash to me. He meets me in the middle, our lips pressing together.

The kiss is over before it even really begins, and I pull back with a smug grin for having delivered.

I might have lost the bet, but I just won this little skirmish—or I did until I saw my boss's expression.

Amused.

Condescending.

Unimpressed.

The ever-present anger within me rages to the surface, and I lunge forward, yanking the annoying man back into my hold.

This time when we touch, I hold nothing back, pouring every conflicted emotion I have for this man into the kiss.

His lips are surprisingly soft—and warmer than I imagined. Bursts of sensation explode in my head like fireworks as Bash growls. The sound vibrates against my mouth, a hungry echo of my own want.

I smooth my palms over his chest and then his arms, the hard muscles rippling beneath my fingers at the contact, but when I reach his shoulders—sweet lord above.

Bash isn't wearing an 80s blazer with shoulder pads like I've always assumed…they're just his shoulders!

A gasp escapes me at the revelation, and I pull back, but Bash follows, refusing to relinquish the press of his mouth to mine.

The sweep of his tongue cuts off my thoughts as Bash spears his giant clawed hands through my long hair.

My nipples harden at the rough touch as liquid heat pools in my belly. I slide my tongue along his as my world spins and blurs.

He groans my name, a reverent whisper like I'm some ancient goddess bestowing upon him the gift of my passion.

Never in my life have I ever been kissed like this—like I'm the air this man needs to breathe if he's to live another moment on this Earth.

It's intoxicating.

Leaving one hand in my hair, Bash snakes the other around my neck, pushing lightly until I'm propelled backward. My back hits the wall as my boss pins me in place.

At any second, anyone could stumble upon us and our more than inappropriate behavior, but I'm too caught up in the moment to care.

The hand around my throat dips to caress my collarbone before exploring lower, leaving a trail of fiery sensations as his fingers skim over my body.

When he cups my breast, my knees really do buckle, but Bash catches me just before I collapse.

There's a serious chance I'll spontaneously combust from what this man is doing to me with his mouth alone, and this terrifies me.

Because if he can undo me with just a kiss, what will happen if he tries more?

Every inch of me wants this—wants Bash—but it can't go further. With every passing second, my edges fray further, and I'm dangerously close to unraveling altogether.

My whole being throbs with need, imagining him touching me more while he makes me come.

Except, if he knew the truth about me, I doubt he would kiss me with the same passion.

It's with this bucket of cold reality that I finally force myself to withdraw. With a ragged breath, I attempt to put some space between the two of us, but Bash won't let me retreat.

"We can't do this—it's not right."

He stares at me, his pink gaze nearly blinding. "I have never felt anything more right in my world than when my lips first touched yours."

I struggle to hold on to what little bit of self-control I have left even though all of me craves this man.

Sensing my reluctance, Bash traces a path along my jaw with his mouth, peppering it with sharp nips that only stoke the flames of my desire even higher.

"Bash! Someone could see us!"

"Don't worry, no one's going to find us. It's after hours and everyone uses the elevator. Why do you think so many people are murdered in stairwells?"

A snort escapes me. "It's the perfect plan to silence me once and for all."

The Boggart chuckles, his minty breath ghosting over my face. "Nah. Why kill you when I could kiss you, instead?"

For this, I have no answer, and Bash grins triumphantly as he brushes his dark lips over mine. My chest feels like it's cracking open when I stop him.

"We can't do this! I'm not who you think I am! I'm…"

I trail off, tears welling up in my eyes, threatening to spill down my face. I turn my head, ashamed that I can't corral my emotions, but every single one of them is magnified inside of me.

"Wyn, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. You got your kiss. Let me go."

Bash lets out a feral snarl. "For the first time in ten months, I finally have you exactly where I want you—in my arms—and you want me to let you go? Not a chance. What could be so terrible about who you think you are that you have to run and hide from me?"

"Everything."

Because I have a secret.