Reluctantly Yours(97)
Finally, the ringing stops and I can focus on the way Barrett’s thumb is now circling my clit.
“You look so beautiful taking my cock.” His words are dirty, but his eyes are reverent when they meet mine. “Come with me, Chloe.” He grips my ass, changing the angle and this time when he slides in, I shatter around him.
“Oh God. Yes.” I sigh as I pulse around him, milking his cock. The intensity of my orgasm sends Barrett over the edge. He shudders and I feel him pulse inside me.
A moment later he collapses on top of me, peppering me with kisses before rolling so I’m on top of him.
“Any bridesmaid duties today?” he asks, stroking my back with his fingertips.
“There’s a brunch and then the rest of the weekend is ours to explore.” I bite my lip, trying to hide my smile. “We could ride the Alpine Coaster.”
His brows lift in disbelief. “That death trap on wheels I saw on the side of the mountain yesterday?”
I laugh as he flips me over and pins my hands above my head.
“You’re trouble.”
“You love me.”
“I do.” He kisses my nose before pressing his lips to mine.
Six weeks ago, I couldn’t have dreamed up this scenario. I didn’t want to be Barrett’s fake girlfriend, but somewhere between the biting words and the heated glares, I fell for him. Now, I couldn’t imagine not being his real girlfriend.
I’m in love with Barrett, I’m making strides at work to become an assistant editor and we have a dog, who if we’re not careful my dad might try to dognap. And to top it all off, today’s WordIt was HAPPY. With SCM’s ownership of WordIt coming to light, I realize that might have been arranged by Barrett but the feeling is the same. We’re happy, and that’s all that matters.
Epilogue
FOUR MONTHS LATER
CHLOE
Snow falls in big flakes around me and a sweater-clad Baxter as we walk down the street. Barrett had questioned the sweater I put on him this morning, but now I’m glad he’s got protection from the elements. Baxter knows when we’re close to home, because he’s familiar with our route, but it could also be because it’s currently lit up like the Empire State Building.
The vision I’d had for decorating Barrett’s—ours now—brownstone windows with lit up wreaths for the holidays has been executed. We spent the weekend before Thanksgiving hanging them. Barrett didn’t understand why we couldn’t hire someone to do it and I had to explain to him that it was half the fun to do it yourself. He finally got into the spirit and I rewarded him with a stellar blow job, our newly lit Christmas tree twinkling in the background.
The large main floor window contains the nine-foot Douglas Fir covered in enough lights to be a fire hazard. It looks perfectly magical.
I should be used to the sight by now, the Christmas decorations have been up since before Thanksgiving. Since the weekend before we flew back to Colorado to celebrate the holiday with my family. My parents had met Barrett at Lauren’s wedding, and they’ve been a fan of his since the beginning, but it was fun to see him with my siblings. I think not taking work and himself so seriously has given him the capacity to open up to people more easily. He fit right in with my family. Helping my mom prepare dinner. Throwing a football around with my brothers and dad while I ogled him from the sidelines. Talking with Lila about the business classes she’s taking this semester. She seemed to care less about Barrett’s take on business strategy and ethics than she did having his attention on her. When he wasn’t looking, she started fanning herself.
Inside, I hang up the garment bag in my hands, then my coat. After Baxter shakes the dusting of snow off himself, I take off his damp sweater and hang it up, too.
Baxter moves toward the study and I follow him. Inside we find Barrett sitting at his desk. Baxter saunters over to Barrett for some affection before settling into his bed near the fireplace. When I push the door the rest of the way open, his eyes find me in the doorway.
“Hey,” he says, his voice deep and raspy. Just that one syllable makes my stomach flutter.
“Hey,” I say, taking in the scene. His computer is off, no cell phone in sight, just a glass of scotch sitting on his desk. I glance over at my desk. Since I officially moved in, Barrett rearranged his office to fit a desk for me. I insisted I’d use it for work, but I’ve yet to sit at it. Instead, it’s piled high with manuscripts and trade paperbacks that I’ve found at the used bookstore we frequent on weekends.
I edge in between him and the desk, his hands move to squeeze my hips.
“Sorry I’m late. Shopping with Emma is fun, but time consuming.”
“It’s fine,” he says, pressing his lips softly to mine. The taste of him, a mix of scotch and spice and maleness that is distinctly Barrett, melts in my mouth.
MARRY
The WordIt word today flashes behind my closed eyes. Thinking about it again sends a rush of excitement through my body.
I had been surprised. At first, I thought it was MERRY for the upcoming holiday, but one incorrect letter had proven me wrong.
MARRY
I’ve been reminding myself all day that while Barrett’s company owns WordIt now, he’s not directly in charge of the words. And, since he confessed to purchasing the app and using it for his benefit where I was concerned, he has refrained from interfering with my favorite word game.