“I can’t. We can’t do this.”

“We’re already doing it. It’s happening. Tell me I’m not the only one who feels it.”

“You’re not, but—”

Because he didn’t want to know how that sentence was going to end, he kissed her. For the first second or two, he waited for her to push him away. If she did that, he would respect her wishes. But she didn’t push him away. No, she pulled him closer and opened her mouth to his tongue. If possible, this kiss was even hotter than the ones they’d shared last night, and those had been pretty damned hot.

He’d thought about little else since she ran away this morning, leaving him with so many unanswered questions. Paul wasn’t thinking about the questions now or all the reasons this could be the worst thing for both of them. When she was in his arms, kissing him back with enthusiastic strokes of her tongue, it felt like the best thing that’d ever happened to him.

His hands slid down her back to cup her bottom. He lifted her up and into his arms. She gasped in surprise, but then recovered, wrapping her arms and legs around him. Good God… He loved the way she responded to him and couldn’t get enough of her sweet mouth or the sexy strokes of her tongue. They needed a wall or a flat surface, something that would allow him to get as close to her as he could.

Paul started walking them toward the office, knocking a glass vase off a shelf that shattered on the floor. He kept moving, ignoring the crash, the broken glass and everything that wasn’t about Hope, warm and soft and pliant in his arms.

Then she broke the kiss. “I can’t, Paul. I can’t. I can’t.”

“Why?” he asked, kissing her neck. “Why?”

She arched her neck to give him better access and tightened her arms around his neck. “I… I just… Paul.”

“Hmm?”

“I can’t.”

The finality of her statement had him drawing back from her, reluctantly and painfully. She slid down the front of him, rubbing against his erection on the way. It was all he could do not to whimper from the desire that beat through him like a live wire.

“You tell me you can’t, but you kiss me like you want to.”

“I’m sorry.” Her hand trembled ever so slightly as she smoothed the hair off her face. “I don’t mean to send you mixed messages.”

“Which message do you mean to send?”

“I like you. You’re a really great guy.”

“But?”

“I can’t do this.”

“You haven’t said why.”

“You know why.”

“I told you this, between us, will never impact your job. I gave you my word, and that means something.”