Collin Tanner
I stared at the white ceiling of the guest room, my eyes burning from a lack of sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, the memory of last night played back with brutal clarity—the quiet hallway, the heat radiating off Zander's frame, and the unmistakable, lingering drop of his eyes to my lips before he uttered those eight dangerous words.
I don't know how else to look at you.
I rolled over and buried my face in the pillow, letting out a muffled groan of frustration. I was furious with myself. Four years of anger, hurt, and careful boundary-building, and all it took was a soft voice and a shadow of vulnerability for my pulse to betray me. He was my employer. He was the man who had discarded me when things got difficult. I couldn't afford to forget that.
By eight in the mornin
