Irresistibly Yours (Oxford #1)(46)

Her lips parted and he gave her a quick kiss. “Your turn.”

“Cole—”

“Go on.”

She rolled her eyes. “This is dumb.”

“I’m waiting.”

Penelope huffed out a breath. “Fine. I promise to never fall in love with you, and ditto on the work and sex thing, except there have to be rules. No sex on weekdays.”

“Nope. Do not agree.”

She scowled up at him. “I’m serious. If we want to keep them separate, if we want to keep everything in perspective, we have to be smart about this. Weekdays, we’re colleagues. Weekends, we can be—”

“Fuck buddies.”

She grinned. “Yes. That.”

He narrowed his eyes. “That’s my only option?”

“Take it or leave it,” she said in a singsong voice.

Take it. Please take it.

He studied her for several long moments before he levered himself up and started to move off the bed.

Penelope’s heart sank as she sat up. “You’re leaving?”

He reached for his jeans and pulled them on. “Damn straight.”

She pushed her hair out of her face and tried to keep her face composed. It was no more than she expected really. She’d always known that she lacked the allure to hold a guy’s interest….

“Okay, well…I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, hoping her voice sounded cool and indifferent instead of small and rejected.

He froze in the process of buttoning his jeans. “What are you talking about?”

“You said you were leaving—”

He gave her an exasperated look. “Tiny, if you’re only giving me sex on weekends, I have to take advantage of every moment. You follow?”

“Not really.”

He pointed at her nightstand clock. “It’s still Sunday. Sunday’s the weekend.”

“So where are you going?” she called after him, as he walked out of her bedroom.

His head poked back into the room. “Keep up. Where do you think I’m going? We need some f*cking condoms.”

And then he was gone, and Penelope couldn’t help the dopey smile that crept over her face.

She was really doing this. She was about to embark on a real-life, grown-up affair with Cole Sharpe.





Chapter 16


Cole made it nearly a week of following Penelope’s stupid no-sex-on-weekdays rule.

He didn’t like it, but he’d seen from the stubborn set of her pointy little jaw that it was that or nothing, and, well…for reasons he didn’t care to explore too closely, nothing wasn’t an option when it came to Penelope Pope.

Not when he’d spent the better part of the last three and a half days trying not to think about those little sighs she made when he licked her nipples, or the way her hips went crazy when he fingered her.

Hell, he’d almost thought they could pull it off.

They’d made it through Monday’s staff meeting, Tuesday’s team lunch, and Wednesday’s after-work happy hour without him hauling her into a deserted corner and kissing her senseless.

Somehow he’d managed to sit beside her for hours on end as they reviewed images and copy and stats, without sliding his hand under her skirt and seeing if she was as wet as he was hard.

And then Thursday happened.

“Tiny,” he barked, the second he stepped off the elevator. “Where the hell have you been?”

She blinked in surprise at his harsh tone. “I was at lunch.”

He’d known she was at lunch. He also knew who she was at lunch with.

Cole’s gaze shifted to Lincoln, who was standing beside Penelope and looking at Cole with a knowing smirk.

“We would have asked you to join,” Penelope said, clearly confused at his anger, “but you were on the phone, and we had to be back by one, so—”

He had been on the phone. He’d been trying once again to get hold of Bobby, only to find out that his brother was busy. Again.

Cole was happy his brother had a life. Had friends. Was happy that his brother was happy.

It was just…

For years, Cole had known that he was all his brother had. That his brother needed him.

But there were times when Cole was struck with the realization that Bobby was all he had. His only family.

And Bobby never meant to blow him off—his brother would die if he thought he’d hurt anyone’s feelings, much less Cole’s….

And yet, hurt his feelings were.

Which put him a damn shitty mood.

“Relax, Pen,” Lincoln was saying to Penelope. “We haven’t done anything wrong.”

He punctuated this statement by placing his hand just briefly on Penelope’s back and Cole had the strangest urge to drive his fist into Lincoln’s face.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Lincoln was his friend. Penelope was his…friend.

They were both his colleagues, and they were absolutely allowed to go to lunch together.

And yet…and yet—

He scowled at Penelope. “Do you have a few minutes? We have to make that US Open layout by end of day.”

“That’s going to take four hours?” Lincoln asked in sham confusion, glancing at his watch.