Wednesday morning, I’m rushing to get to work on time with the windows down in my car trying to dry my hair. I went for a swim this morning, spent a little longer than needed in the shower and it made me ten minutes late for work.

Tathan isn’t at work again and well. . . it’s starting to get boring. I strangely miss our bantering.

I tell Zane and Casey everything that happened last night in the hot tub, and before that when I kissed him. No surprise, but they meet at my desk every morning and wait for me to tell them what happened the night before.

Casey tells me Tathan called her last night and arranged to take their prewedding photos on Friday afternoon before Bryan has to go to work, and then they discussed their wedding photos. They’re apparently meeting for dinner tonight to talk about what they’re looking for.

Part of me wishes I was going.

Stop that.

On the way home, I can’t stop thinking about him, which frustrates me. Oliver starts whining as soon as I’m home, so I know I need to take him out before he pees on the floor.

I do, and when I come back, Tathan is outside his apartment.

Figures. I think he has spy equipment in there.

“Hot tub tonight?” he asks, leaning again against my door.

Fuck, he smells amazing.

“Are you trying to make this a habit or something?” I’m also distracted because he’s leaning again.

“I’ll take anything you’ll give me. You don’t realize what you do to me. . .,” he starts to say and leans into me instead of the wall, his body flush with mine pressed against my door. “I’m at the point where I don’t care. I’ll beg if I have to, just to see you in a bikini again.” The warmth of his body radiates against mine, and the erratic beating of his heart presses on my chest. His breathing is low and deep.

I would like to think his heart is beating like this because he’s around me or maybe he has a heart defect, but I’m inclined to think the latter.

His admission somewhat weakens me.

“If this is because of that kiss. . . that was a mistake. A momentary lapse in judgment,” I tell him, pushing away, well, trying to, but he does have me pinned pretty well.

If only I was pinned under him on his bed.

“I’ll bring some wine.” He’s into bribery now. “That’s what you like, right?

He’s convincing, isn’t he?

“Don’t get greedy. You’ve had two nights in the hot tub with me. That could be classified as our date.”

“No way.” He shakes his head, as if the idea is absurd to him. “I said a date like with clothes on and candles. All that shit.”

“No more hot tubs then.” I push against his shoulder. “You’re going to turn me into a bucket girl.”

His jaw clenches. “What the hell makes you think I have a bucket of women?”

“I’ve seen you. I know your type.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

His brow raises as if he knows he might just have to shake me to get me to understand this. “I don’t have any girls, and kissing is good. I like kissing. . . you. . .,” he says, leaning into me, his lips inches from mine, scratch that, centimeters from mine. “I could use another kiss.”

Ah crap, I really am screwed.

I’m screwed because I press my lips to his once again. It takes a moment before I realize what I’ve done and push back.

“You have to stop kissing me,” I tell him and move away, opening my door just as Oliver starts to growl.

He laughs, backing away, his eyes on Oliver. “Uh. . . you kissed me.”

“No, I didn’t. You kissed me.” I unlock my door, trying to keep Oliver from attacking Tathan.

Tathan’s persuasive brown eyes lock on mine. “Let’s just go to the hot tub.”

“Jesus.” I pick up Oliver and hold him tightly as he struggles to get loose. “What’s with you and this damn hot tub? You that sore?”

“I like to soak.” He smiles so wide I see his dimples. It’s adorable.

“Uh-huh.”

“So?”

“No. . . .” I look down and use my puppy as an excuse. “I have to feed Oliver.”

“I’ll wait,” he tells me, placing his foot in the doorframe, and then winks.

“Fine. . . don’t expect kissing though. And you have to wait outside.”

“No kissing.” He smirks and looks down at Oliver. “And I’ll wait out here, because you don’t trust me.”

I step inside my apartment, and Tathan watches Oliver as he backs up. “What’s wrong with your dog?”

“He doesn’t like you.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Yet, you don’t listen.” My words mean more than this dog, and he knows it.