When his tongue caressed hers, Annika moaned softly, and he kissed her deeper in response, the hand on her cheek slipping to tangle in her hair, as if he couldn’t get close enough. She ran her hands down his pecs to his stomach, feeling the taut muscles, her bones going soft, melting so she was nothing but a puddle of hot desire.

Her fingertips hit the button on his jeans and she heard the sharp intake of his breath. He was hard, pressing against her, and she was so wet, so open, so ready to take this further.

And then reality slammed into her. This wasn’t just some guy she was hooking up with in some random bedroom. This wasn’t a date with someone she cared about and trusted and saw a future with. This was Hudson fucking Craft. And Hudson Craft—keeper of Break Up—was anathema to her soul.

She pulled back suddenly, pressing one hand against his chest again. But this time, the message was clear: Stop. His eyes were wide, his dark pupils dilated against the green. Annika took some pleasure at the way he was breathing, hard and ragged, his cheeks flushed.

“Hudson … it’s—this is not a good idea.”

“I beg to differ,” he murmured, trying to close the gap between their mouths again. Annika wanted to let him; desire was making her toes literally curl in her shoes. Any gap between them felt criminal in this moment, utterly unthinkable. She wanted to feel his hands everywhere. She wanted to feel every part of him under her palms.

But she forced herself to take a step back. “I mean it,” she forced herself to say, even though her voice shook and her body was screaming, No, you don’t, you moron!

Hudson rubbed a hand across his swollen lips as he realized she was serious. He frowned. “Did I … do something wrong?”

“No, I … you didn’t. I just … I don’t see this going anywhere, Hudson. You’re you, and I’m me.”

He looked confused. “Yes, we’re the people we are.”

Annika sighed. Of course he wouldn’t understand. He’d made a million dollars with his app. He was considered a visionary, a genius. He didn’t have an eviction letter in his drawer at work, in spite of how hard he’d tried to do something good in the world. “Don’t you get it? We’re like if a tree and a forest fire wanted to go out. It just doesn’t make sense.” She walked to the leather bench to get her purse as Hudson watched in silence, one hand rubbing his jaw. “It would make more sense if we shared the same values, if we were even friends first. You and I … we have so little in common.”