Beautiful Bitch (Beautiful Bastard, #1.5)(9)

In a sudden flash I remembered that my office was unlocked; Chloe had come in here thinking we’d discuss work. The outer office was closed but not locked, either.

“Oh, shit,” I groaned, because somehow the idea that we could be caught made it so much hotter. “Chloe—” Without more warning, my orgasm barreled down my spine, sharp and warm, and so intense it made my legs shake and my fists curl tightly in her hair. She arched against the pull, her arm jerking as she touched herself, causing the sounds of her own pleasure to come out muffled around me.

Looking down, I realized she was watching my reaction . . . of course she was. Her eyes were wide, but somehow soft, and she looked fascinated. I’m sure her expression was exactly how mine was every time I’d seen her come apart under my touch. After a pause to catch my breath, I pulled out from her mouth and kneeled on the floor facing her, reaching to cup one of my hands over the one she had between her legs. She shifted a little, letting my fingers take over. I slid two of them inside, pushing and deep, and she almost toppled backward, her body clamping down around me. Steadying her with my other hand on her hip, I pressed a kiss to her lips, humming at the way they were a little red, a little swollen.

“I’m really close,” she said, slipping her free hand around my neck for support.

“I like how you think you need to tell me that.”

I kept waiting for my touch to seem overly familiar, or my technique to grow tired, but each time she felt the sweep and press of my thumb against her clit it seemed more intense than the time before.

“Another,” she managed in a tight voice. “Please, I want . . .”

She never finished her thought. She didn’t need to. I pumped three fingers into her and watched as her head fell back, her lips parted, and the quiet, husky sound of her trying-to-be-quiet orgasm raced through her.

For a few seconds, she let me hold her up, breathe in the scent of her hair, and pretend that we were somewhere else, maybe my living room or her bedroom, certainly not on the floor of my unlocked office.

Seeming to remember this at the same time I did, Chloe pulled up her panties and slid her skirt back down her thighs before letting me take her hand to help her stand. As usual, I was struck by the quiet all around us, and wondered if we were ever as controlled and sneaky as we thought we were.

She looked around, a little dazed, and then tossed me a lazy grin. “This will make it even harder to stay awake in my meeting.”

“Not sorry,” I murmured, bending down to kiss her neck.

When I straightened, she turned and walked into my washroom, pushing the sleeves of her sweater up her forearms so she could clean her hands. I stepped close, pressing my front to her back, and moved my hands under the water with hers. Soap slid between our fingers and she leaned her head back against my chest. I wanted to spend an hour washing her scent from our fingers just so I could stand this close.

“Are we staying at your place tonight?” I asked. It was always a hard choice. My bed was better for play, but her kitchen was better stocked.

She turned off the water and reached to dry her hands on my towel. “Your place. I have to do laundry.”

“Don’t ever let me hear you say romance is dead.” I took my turn with the towel and then bent to kiss her. She kept her mouth closed, eyes open, and I pulled back a little.

“Bennett?”

“Mmm?”

“I do, you know.”




“You do what?”

“Love you. Maybe I don’t tell you enough. Maybe that’s why you used the bat signal.”

I smiled, my heart squeezing tightly beneath my ribs. “I know you do. And that isn’t why I texted. I texted because I don’t get enough of your exclusive attention lately and I’m a greedy bastard. Hasn’t my mother warned you that I’ve never been good at sharing?”

“After we move to New York, things will quiet down and we’ll have more time.”

“In New York? Doubtful,” I said. “And even if things do settle down, wouldn’t it be nice to get away for a little bit before all that anyway?”

“When?” she asked, and looked around as if her packed calendar permeated every surface.

“There won’t ever be a perfect time. And when we move offices, it will be even crazier for a while.”

Laughing, she shook her head. “Well, I can’t think of a worse time. Maybe late summer?” With a quick kiss, she turned and grabbed her phone from my desk, eyes widening when she saw the time. “I have to go,” she said, kissing me once more before leaving my office.

And the topic was dismissed.

But the word vacation stayed in my mind.





Three


I’d had big plans for tonight: make dinner, eat dinner together, finally decide which apartment we were going to rent in New York, discuss what to keep from both his place and mine, figure out when in the hell we’d find time to pack it all in the first place.

Oh, and spend the remaining eight hours relearning every inch of my Beautiful Bastard’s body. Twice.

But that itinerary was before he’d walked through the door of his house to find me cooking dinner in his kitchen. Before he’d tossed his jacket and keys to the couch and practically sprinted across the room. Before he pulled me back against him and sucked at the skin below my ear as if he hadn’t tasted me in weeks.