Nathan
It was maddening, really.
How something as simple as the brush of fingertips, the briefest of touches, could completely short-circuit every logical thread in my mind, snapping whatever control I thought I had so easily held onto like it had been a fragile, fraying string all along… and now here I was, sitting in my home office long past a reasonable hour, with files I should have been lost in, with deadlines that should have commanded all of my focus, and yet… none of that seemed to matter in the slightest when she was standing this close to me.
Eleanor.
Christ.
I shouldn’t have asked for her. I should have sent Ms. Rhea to bed after she had done her part of being a messenger to getting me the last cup of coffee. I should have waved it off when I thought of talking to Eleanor,
