Everyone is staring. I can feel the heat of their eyes on the side of my face. But even that isn’t enough to take me out of this moment. This sweet, thrilling moment. My eyes drift closed and the world falls away.

Milo is kissing me.

If you’d asked me just an hour ago what kind of kisser I thought Milo would be, I’d have said aggressive. He’s all about going all in and getting to the finish line. I would have assumed that he wouldn’t care much about the process and only about the end game.

I would have been completely and utterly wrong.

His lips are soft and he feathers them over mine gently, barely touching me. The result is a whispery, soft touch that sends chills up and down my spine. Then he lays his mouth over mine and kisses me properly, his tongue brushing softly against mine.

After what feels like several hours but is probably only several seconds, he pulls back. But he doesn’t just stop. No, Milo can’t do anything simply, not even shocking me to my core with a kiss. Because right after he pulls away, he does this soft little nuzzle, rubbing his nose back and forth against mine.

Why is that my kryptonite? That completely unnecessary little snuggle just takes all the indignation I was building up to and scatters it to the wind. Along with all rational thought.

A throat clears and it’s like jumping into an ice bath. If we’d been standing we’d have probably sprung apart but instead I grope the table blindly until my hand connects with my water glass. The cool liquid cools my throat but not my lust.

What the hell was that?

Everyone at the table is still eating and talking softly amongst themselves, almost like the last thirty seconds didn’t just change the rotational orbit of the planet. Isn’t it funny how a certain event can knock you off your feet but seems to have no effect on anyone else? It’s like experiencing an earthquake while everyone around you goes on with their lives unaware. Well, everyone isn’t unaware. Andre Lavin is watching us carefully.

So is James.

Oh shit.

This is where I should speak up. Tell Mr. Lavin that I cannot wait to see his newest designs, that women everywhere are going to be clamoring for the chance to wear one of his dresses. But I can’t because my mind is still muddled and I can still feel the imprint of Milo’s lips against mine.

“You make an interesting point, Mr. Hamilton. Being married is one thing but to have a couple currently planning a wedding designing my campaign would be ideal.” Andre nods in satisfaction. “I had a good feeling about this firm but I can see that your reputation is accurate. Professional, innovative and discreet. Exactly what I need.”

James looks slightly dazed, the same expression you might wear after you narrowly miss being hit by a cab. He looks between me and Milo and then back to Mr. Lavin but nothing comes out of his mouth.

Once again Wallace comes to the rescue. “You can’t go wrong with those two in charge if you’re looking for discretion. They’ve been dating in secret for ages and nobody knew except for me. I mean, I could tell. He stares at her ass whenever she walks away.”

The water I just sipped comes back up my nose. Milo hands me a napkin without missing a beat.

“Thank you, Wallace. So Mr. Lavin tell us about your vision for Lavin Bridal in particular.”

And so it goes. Milo manages to carry the conversation all the way through the dessert course and then through coffee. Personally I’ve never understood the practice of drinking coffee after dessert but when the waitress comes around I order some anyway. Maybe the extra caffeine will wake me the hell up.

But I still feel like I’m sleepwalking as James bids the members of the Lavin team goodnight and they promise to be in touch. Wallace is the first to scamper off, probably to go post the selfie he took with Mr. Lavin to Instagram. The thought makes me chuckle but my throat instantly turns to sandpaper when James approaches.

This entire time, Milo and I have been sitting in silence. I couldn’t take the chance of asking any questions where the Lavin team might overhear. But now I wish I’d thought to text him or something so I know how we’re handling this.

But James doesn’t look upset at all. He’s practically glowing. It could be all the scotch but either way he looks thrilled.

“You two, ah, I should have known. You’ve done an amazing job keeping your relationship out of the office. Good work. Knew I could count on you.” He claps Milo on the shoulder and gifts me with a wide, loopy grin.

Even if I knew what to say to him right now, I don’t think I’d have the heart to wipe that smile off his face. Tomorrow is soon enough for him to realize that we’ve screwed up this deal. Maybe a good night’s sleep will make him more lenient when he’s deciding whether to fire us.

Milo pulls out my chair for me as I stand and I follow wordlessly as we leave the restaurant. It’s a Thursday night but as we walk back through the casino to reach the elevators to the rooms, there are so many people out you’d never think it was a weekday. Time seems to move differently here. I notice an older lady with a purple fanny pack methodically feeding coins into a slot machine. She looks like she’s been at it for awhile. Maybe I should just stay down here, living off the free drinks and the adrenaline of gambling. It would probably be better than what’s waiting for me when we get back to D.C.

I’ve been so deep in my thoughts that I wasn’t paying attention when we got on the elevator. Its only when it stops on the twelfth floor that I realize we didn’t push the button for my floor. But Milo loops his arm around my waist and guides me out of the elevator anyway.

“But my room–”

“Not here,” he murmurs in my ear. The deep rumble of his voice so close sends a shiver down my spine. “Some of the Lavin team are on this floor. Wait until we get inside.”

“Inside what?” Belatedly I realize he means inside his room. He has his key card out and the door open before I can say no way in hell.

The door slams shut behind us and all the things I was getting ready to say get stuck in my throat.

Trying to gather my thoughts, I look around the room. The layout is the same as the one I was given, TV, big window directly across except he has a King sized bed instead of two doubles. Behind him, there are several dress shirts scattered on the bed and the covers are all tangled, like he took a nap before coming down to dinner. Just like that I have a mental image of Milo naked in those sheets and being alone with him in this room seems like a very bad idea.

Completely at ease with the idea of the two of us being alone, he shrugs out of his suit jacket and loosens his tie. I’m instantly distracted by the small patch of skin revealed at the top of his shirt where it’s unbuttoned. “I know you must have a million questions,” he says finally.

But I don’t. Truthfully, I only have one.

“What the hell just happened?”