Free Unable to Resist by Cassie Graham

my purse to head inside.
    The tall, brick building towers over the others surrounding it. It’s modern, yet original. I’ve never really noticed it before in all of my Nashville adventures, but it’s quite breathtaking.
    The lobby is quiet when I walk in, and no one is at the reception desk. I look around for someone but it’s Sunday and the building is probably closed to most. The area is wide open, with tons of space for waiting clients. The seating area houses plush leather couches and chairs while warm red and orange colors cover the walls, making it feel welcoming.
    My Converse squeak on the shiny concrete below my feet as I walk to the elevator. Duane informed me his office is on the tenth floor, so I step into the elevator, push the button and hold on for dear life. I haven’t mentioned it, I didn’t think I needed to, but I’m slightly afraid of heights.
    Alright, alright, I’m really—okay, totally afraid of heights. I hate letting my feet leave the ground. Loathe it, actually. During my ascent to the tenth floor, I noiselessly pray it doesn’t have some sort of malfunction and drop me to the ground.
    The bell dings and the doors open.
    Thank you, Jesus.
    The floor is silent. Evidently, everyone has Sunday off in his office—well, everyone but Duane apparently. All the offices are empty, and I start to think maybe I’m in the wrong place. As I dig in my purse for my phone, it slips off of my shoulder and drops to the floor, scattering all of its contents.
    Perfect. Just what I need.
    Getting down on my knees, I grab for all of my crap and stuff it into my empty purse. When it’s all picked up, I huff in annoyance and climb to my feet only to be brought face to face with Duane.
    With an amused expression, he chuckles. “I think you forgot this.” He holds up a tube of my favorite chapstick.
    Tucking a rebellious strand of hair behind my ear, I take the chapstick from him and shove it in my bag. “Thank you, kind sir. My lips are forever in your debt.”
    Lame, I know. I look down at my feet. I can’t believe I just said that .
    Idiot, idiot, idiot.
    His laugh vibrates all the way through the empty space and he steps forward, taking my waist in his hand. All of the air leaves my lungs, and I concentrate on his skin on mine. I snap my head up. Eyes dilated, and lips slightly parted, I let his breath wash over my face.
    This feels so good. Wrong, but so good. I let myself smile.
    A car horn outside honks and snaps me back to reality.
    Nope, too close. When he touches me like this, it gives me hope—hope for something more. I know I’ll just get my heart stomped on if I keep hoping.
    I step back, giving myself some distance from him.
    His eyebrows come together in confusion, and then they smooth out.
    “So,” I swing my purse on my shoulder, “What’s up?”
    “Uhh, there’s been a break in your Dad’s case,” he says in a professional tone.
    “What? Really? Already?” I ask, optimistic.
    His face lights up at my anticipation and I feel my heart beat a little faster.
    “Yeah, I guess my digging did something. They brought in a couple of suspects, and they are questioning them today.” He waits, his eyes dancing.
    I step forward, wanting to hug him. That’s really not the smartest thing to do, right? No, it isn’t. Right? I step back.
    Keep your hands to yourself, Ann.
    “Let’s go to my office,” he says, gesturing toward the corner office.
    I nod my head and follow behind him. His dark blue jeans hug him in ways that should be considered illegal. I notice things I shouldn’t. Like the way his ass sways a bit as he walks and how his hair blows just slightly in the air. He finishes off his look with a light blue button up shirt and a black vest. I see a brown sports coat on the back of his chair as we step into his office.
    Holy hell, this man can seriously dress a model off of the runway.
    He rolls the sleeves up on his shirt and sits down. Propping his expensive looking brown Oxfords