Chapter 6: Rules, Dreams, and Sparks

Grayson was cooking shirtless in the kitchen!

He was sautéing something in a cast-iron skillet, steam curling up and making him look like a scene out of a GQ brunch spread. I busied myself at the other end of the counter, staring at my phone, determined not to be distracted.

I avoided looking at him—if I kept staring, I’d definitely do something I’d regret!

A little temptation is fine, but if he stops making me money, that’s a disaster!

I gulped down some ice water to calm myself.

I tried asking, “Mr. Grayson, when’s the next time you’ll help me make money?”

“One month from now.”

That’s a long wait!

No problem—I can wait!

But with such a walking temptation at home, how was I supposed to survive…

I started scheduling more overtime at the office, just to give myself some breathing room. At least there, the only abs I’d see were printed on motivational posters.

To avoid being alone with him, I decided to work overtime after hours!

Who knew the office would be so cozy—I dozed off without realizing it!

And had the most amazing dream!

In the dream, I lifted Grayson’s shirt, running my hand over his abs—finally got to touch those eight-pack muscles, smooth and firm, like a work of art!

I couldn’t stop touching them, over and over!

Until he caught my wrist and whispered, “Still not done?”

Suddenly, I lost my balance and woke up with a start!

Grayson was actually sitting next to me, holding my wrist.

For a second, I had no idea if I was still dreaming or if Grayson had just invaded my subconscious and my workspace.

So it wasn’t a dream? I really touched him?

My mind went blank. I yanked my hand back and stood up, but my legs were numb, and I toppled over!

Grayson reacted quickly and caught me, but my chin hit the table, leaving a bloody scratch!

Utterly defeated, I stared in the mirror and glared at Grayson, the culprit. “Why are you here?”

“If I wasn’t here, how would I know Natalie is craving my body?”

“That was just a dream—dreams are always the opposite!”

Looking at the scratch on my chin, I shot him a wounded look. “This is all your fault!”

He stared at my chin, then awkwardly said, “I can help you.”

A flash of his cold face licking my wound that morning popped into my mind. My eyebrows twitched!

I pursed my lips.

He chuckled. “What, scared?”

Ridiculous—what’s there to be scared of?

I pulled him closer, lifted my chin, and said, “I’m afraid you won’t dare!”

I could see the flicker in his eyes—a glint of mischief, curiosity, and maybe something a little more. In that tiny moment, all the awkwardness and tension melted away, replaced by something electric, uncertain, and oh-so-American: the spark of two stubborn souls finally letting their guards slip.

But as his hand hovered near mine, I realized—one of us was about to break the rules. And I wasn’t sure if I wanted to stop him.