Big Shot(39)

He secured his hands tight around her waist and tipped her back so she was lying on the sofa. Quickly, he reversed their positions so that he was the one straddling her hips. “First, I’m your transition guy,” he grumbled as he shoved the hem of her tank top all the way up to her chin, exposing her bare breasts to his hot gaze. “And now I’m a goddamn frog?”

His tone was teasing, but what she wouldn’t do for him to be that prince who swept her away. He possessed all the qualities needed—the honesty, the integrity. He was protective and even sensitive, though she knew he’d never admit it. But despite all that, he wasn’t on the market, and he never would be. If she’d had any doubts whatsoever about his availability—and, of course, she hadn’t—he’d made his views on relationships and marriage and the reasons behind them crystal clear tonight.

There was no use pining over something she couldn’t have or change, so she took what she could, which was enjoying their frenemies-with-benefits arrangement.

“Frogs aren’t all that bad,” she told him as he fondled her breasts and plucked at her sensitive nipples while she slid her hands up his jean-clad thighs to the noticeable bulge in his pants.

He didn’t look convinced. “How so?”

“They have very long, agile tongues,” she said, having intimate knowledge of just how exceptionally well Wes knew how to use his. “And really, in the scheme of things, that’s all that matters.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more.” He flashed her a wicked grin as he lowered his head toward her breasts. “In fact, I’m gonna show you just how agile this tongue can be.”

And over the course of the next hour, much to her pleasure and delight, he did just that.





Chapter Thirteen





“I have to say, getting laid on a regular basis has improved your mood immensely.”

“What?” Natalie didn’t know whether to laugh or glare at Richard, who was seated across from her at the cafe where they were having lunch together. “How has my mood improved? And I didn’t realize my mood was an issue before getting laid on a regular basis.”

He chuckled as he cut into his grilled halibut. “A week and a half of doing the dirty with Mr. Big Shot, and you’re so much more relaxed and calm. You’re not as stressed or on edge, or neurotic about being busy twenty-four seven and chasing after clients and building your little empire. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that you’ve become quiet flexible, and I don’t mean in just a physical way,” he added with a cheeky wink.

Natalie experienced a moment of panic as his words sank in, the cobb salad on her plate suddenly forgotten as her mind did a quick, screeching rewind. Yes, it had been ten days since she’d lost the bet to Wes. Ten days of making her jump through hoops to “pay up” on her lost wager as agreed—because let’s face it, Wes wasn’t going to let her off easy, even if she was putting out for him—but rewarding her in the hottest, most satisfying ways each and every time. But had she gotten so caught up in Wes that she’d gotten soft and her career had begun to suffer?

That dismay expanded in her chest. She’d had a few impressive sales since their bet, but what if she wasn’t doing all she could to build her client base because she was distracted by sex on the brain? What if she was slipping and her focus had shifted to something, or rather, someone, at the cost of not accumulating more listings than she already had? What if she was falling for Wes, an unattainable man, at the expense of working toward her goal of being a well-respected broker? And what if . . .

“Jesus, Natalie,” Richard said, yanking her out of her frantic thoughts. “Calm down. You’re on the verge of hyperventilating.”

Yes, her heart was racing, and she was breathing as though she’d just finished a marathon. “Can you blame me? You just told me that I’m calm and relaxed and not pursuing clients twenty-four seven, which means I’m not working like I should. That I’m missing opportunities. And flexible? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Richard rolled his eyes, pegging her as the drama queen she clearly was being. “Calm and relaxed, meaning you’re finally enjoying life outside of work. And flexible, meaning you’re not so uptight and rigid about your schedule.”

She still didn’t get it. “And why is that a good thing?” she asked, her voice pitching higher than normal.

Richard reached across the small table and placed his hand over hers and waited for her to look him in the eyes. “Because you’re finding a balance with Wes and making work and play mesh on a daily basis. Instead of all work and no play.”

She shook her head in denial. “There shouldn’t be a ‘balance’ with Wes.” Her job, her career, needed to be a priority right now. “He’s my transition guy, remember?”

“I’m thinking he’s becoming a lot more than that,” he pointed out quietly. “This is the happiest I’ve seen you since . . . dare I say, since Mitch.”

No, no, no, no no. She chanted the words in her head, but her traitorous heart was saying, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.

Richard squeezed her hand. “I know you love your job. I know you want to be successful, and you will be. You’ve got a headhunter pursuing you for a reputable real estate firm in Atlanta, and that wouldn’t be happening if you’d been sitting on your pretty little ass doing nothing.”