For the Sake of a Kiss

Ethan knew he shouldn’t want her the way he did. Not her — not Camille Hayes, the woman whose signature could make or break his future with a flick of her pen. His boss. His untouchable boss.

She was two years older, but it felt like more. She had this polished calm about her — the kind that made boardrooms go quiet when she walked in. Sharp suits, sharper mind. And that smile — warm enough to keep him close, distant enough to remind him exactly where the line was.

But Ethan was terrible at lines.

It started like a dare he gave himself every Monday morning — linger too long in her office doorway, let his eyes drift from her eyes to her mouth. Watch the way her lips curved around his name when she asked him to stay late. And he always did.

The first time he touched her, it wasn’t even scandalous — just a brush of his fingers when he handed her a file, his thumb grazing her wrist. He felt the spark snap between them, saw her inhale like she’d just remembered she needed air.

Still, she resisted. “You’re too young, Ethan.”
He’d smiled. “I’m old enough to know what I want.”
She’d shut the door on that conversation — but not on him. Never on him.

Nights grew longer. Deadlines piled up conveniently. Her office light stayed on later than anyone else’s — except his. He’d find excuses to stand close behind her at her desk, his breath ghosting her neck as he pointed out edits that didn’t really need fixing.

Sometimes she’d look up at him, eyes dark and glassy like she was fighting herself. He wanted her to lose.

One night, it broke. Rain pounded the windows like it wanted in. He stayed behind to finish a pitch, but really he stayed behind for her. She stood at her window, arms crossed, hair falling loose from her bun. The city lights turned her silhouette into something soft — human — not his boss, just Camille.

He walked up behind her, heart in his throat. “Say you don’t feel it,” he murmured. “Say it and I’ll stop.”

She didn’t turn around. She just whispered, “Ethan…” — his name like a warning, or maybe a plea.

He pressed closer. His hands found her waist, fingertips brushing silk and warm skin. She didn’t push him away. Didn’t breathe. He turned her gently, forced her to face him — and there it was, everything she’d been burying under late-night emails and clipped replies. Want. Longing.

He kissed her like he’d been starving for it — because he had. Her lips were warm and soft but hesitant, opening just enough to let him in. He tasted rain on her skin, the bite of her perfume, the quiet surrender she’d denied for so long.

She pulled back, breathless, eyes searching his like she wanted to find a reason to end this. He gave her none. He leaned in again, brushing his mouth over hers, soft but certain. “For the sake of a kiss, Camille. Just this once.”

But when her hands slid up his chest, clutching his shirt like she’d fall without him — he knew it wouldn’t be just once.

She was his boss. She was older. She was right — this would ruin them both.
But when she pulled him back to her mouth, all that mattered was the kiss. And how easy it was to fall for the wrong thing, for the right person.

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