Five Ways to Fall (Ten Tiny Breaths, #4)(119)

“I warned you—Jiminy talks,” Reese murmurs as she adjusts the microphone stand, her cheeks now taking on a hint of color as well.

“Uh . . . ” I’m not sure how to respond to that. We’ve been really good respecting Jack and keeping our relationship under wraps in the office, Reese working on Natasha’s cases while I take on cases of my own and use two other paralegals. In fact, I’m pretty sure no one has a clue. Then again, maybe everyone knows and we’re fooling ourselves.

And, except for one night a few weeks ago when we were working late and I couldn’t help making her reenact a fantasy I’ve had burning in my head for months now involving Reese and my desk, we’ve kept our hands to ourselves.

What the hell was Mason doing, anyway, coming into the office after midnight?

I’m betting he won’t be doing that again without calling ahead.

“So we’ll call it even, then?” Jack offers with a smirk as he walks toward his seat.

I dip my head as the sheepish grin takes over, just as Reese’s phone beeps with a text from Elsie. “It’s time!” she announces, tossing her phone haphazardly onto the ground a few feet away—she’s going to forget it there and then go ape shit looking for it later, guaranteed—before her fingers strum the first chords. When her mouth opens and the words to the song come tumbling out in that deep, raspy voice of hers, Jake has to elbow me in the ribs again to get me to turn around and face the aisle. I last all of five seconds before my attention’s back on Reese.

I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of hearing her sing. Or talk. Or laugh, or bust my balls, or tell me I’m a jackass. And I don’t see how I could ever get sick of waking up next to her in the morning, or pulling all her clothes off of her at night, because I haven’t yet. It’s the exact opposite, actually. I just want her more. She’s everything I never knew I wanted. She’s everything I never knew I could have.

She just . . . fits with me. So perfectly.

I’m vaguely aware of the processional coming down the aisle. I probably should be paying attention to the bride.

But I’m too busy staring at my Reese.