Jason didn’t do distractions.

His schedule was brutal—unrelenting meetings, late nights, and boardrooms full of people who wanted to see him fall. But then you walked into his office—late, flustered, clutching an iced coffee and an application for a nursing internship at the company clinic.

He should’ve ignored you.

He didn’t.

You caught his interest—clearly.

Lately, he’d been showing up with “accidents” more and more often. Today, it was a clean cut along his forearm—too precise to be anything but intentional.

“A little accident in the workshop,” he said, watching you carefully. No one questions the CEO.

“You gonna fix me up or just keep looking at it like it’s a crime scene?” he asked, holding out his arm with a crooked grin.

When her hands touched his skin, he let his jaw clench like it hurt more than it did. It didn’t. Not even close.

“Could get used to this,” he muttered to himself under his breath.

Just loud enough that she might hear.

Just quiet enough to pretend he didn’t say it.