The Two Week Arrangement (Penthouse Affair #1)(34)

“A little more—fuck, just like that. You’re doing amazing.” He groans, caressing from my shoulder, up my neck, and over my cheek. “God, look at you. Those pretty lips wrapped around me . . . You’re so sexy, it should be illegal.”

In appreciation of the compliment, I take a little more of him. His fingers knot in my hair, half directing me, half just holding on.

Letting his touch and his sensual noises guide me, I bob my head faster and swirl my tongue as I grow more confident in my technique. I see why people enjoy this—it’s so hot to hear him unravel bit by bit, so heady to learn I can make such a powerful man gasp my name, bring him so much pleasure that his muscular stomach and thighs begin to quiver.

His grip tightens spasmodically, sending pain-pleasure sparks from my scalp all the way down my spine. “Presley . . . I’m about to . . .”

I don’t stop. I want everything he can give me.

When I suck harder, he groans loud and rough, his thick, hot release pulsing over my tongue. I swallow, shocked at how intensely bitter it tastes, but still craving every drop.

“Damn . . .” He breathes out the word, and a swell of pride fills my chest.

The hand buried in my hair relaxes, caressing instead of clenching. I let my head drop into his warm lap and luxuriate in the way he’s softly stroking the long locks of my hair.

Then he adds, “That was pretty good. For an intern.”

I grab a pillow and toss it at his face. The cocky jerk just laughs. But it’s okay, because I’m giggling, too.

“I think it’s time for bed. Or do you not take suggestions from interns?” I say, returning the jab with my eyebrows raised in mock rebuke.

We’re still naked and this should feel strange, but his playful remark seems to have relaxed the charged atmosphere around us. Who knows, maybe that’s why he said it? He seems to know his way around most social situations. Even the awkward moment after you’ve just had spontaneous oral sex with an employee, I mean, intern.

Oh God, I wonder if he’s been in this situation before?

I won’t let myself spiral with worry right now. Endorphins are still pulsing through my system, and I’m determined not to worry. At least, not yet. I’m sure there will be time for regrets and examination of my behavior come morning.

Dominic gazes down at me fondly, touching my cheek one last time as he holds my gaze. I see the hint of a smile on his lips, and then he swings his legs over the side of the bed and tugs on his black boxer briefs. “I think I agree. Roger the others were about to call it a night too.”

We dig our toiletries out of our suitcases. With two sinks, the bathroom is roomy enough for us to stand side by side while we brush our teeth. Normally, I’d be a little self-conscious, but it feels natural. Comfortable. Almost . . . domestic. I push away the dangerous thought.

After changing into pajamas, I slip beneath the covers, wiggling a little to enjoy their soft, silky slide. Everything feels so good—I’m still languid and sensitive from earlier. Though I’m sure it doesn’t hurt that our guest bed comes equipped with linens worthy of a five-star hotel.

Dominic glances up from his suitcase to shoot me a soft smile that I don’t dare call affectionate. “You look comfortable. Sleep well.”

“You’re not coming to bed?”

He pulls out his laptop and sets it on the desk. “In a bit. There’s a little more work I wanted to get done first.”

I’m a little disappointed, but mostly just amused. How typical of a workaholic CEO. “Good night, boss.”

He chuckles as he turns off the bedside lamp. “Good night, intern. Let me know if the light bothers you.”

Although the night has worn me out, for a little while I let my gaze rest on him, silhouetted by the soft glow of his screen. He really is an amazing man. Hardworking to a fault, sweet when he wants to be, a skilled and generous lover . . . even though he’s made it clear that he doesn’t believe in love.

My eyes grow heavier. I drift off to the quiet noise of tapping keys.

? ? ?

I’m woken by Dominic nudging me and saying something.

“Wha . . . ?” I squint up at him in the bright morning sunlight.

“We have to go,” he says insistently.

I rub my eyes with one hand and grope for my phone with the other. “What time is it?”

“It’s after ten.” Before I can ask, he adds, “You slept through breakfast. I had Roger’s valet put a few muffins in the limo for you to eat while we drive.”

Wow, I almost never sleep this late. I guess he wore me out last night.

I’m about to crack a joke about his prowess when I finally get a good enough look at him to realize something’s off. Dominic is unshaven, and his hair is disheveled. His face is tense, his brow furrowed and lips tight.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. It must be bad if he’s this frazzled.

“There’s been an incident. We need to get back to the city ASAP. Hurry and get dressed. I’ve already said good-bye to Roger for us.”

An incident? I have no idea what he means, but I sense now’s not the time to ask any more questions. I roll onto my feet, then get dressed and pack as fast as I can.

Outside on the driveway, the limo is waiting, its engine running. As soon as we’re seated and the door is shut, Dominic is on the phone before the chauffeur has even hit the gas.