Not Safe for Work(48)

“I am one hundred percent on board with that idea.”

“See you tonight.”





Chapter Seventeen


I forced myself to stay awake the rest of the day so I didn’t screw up my body clock even more than it already was. When Rick texted me to say he was on his way home, I didn’t f*ck around. After a quick shower, I grabbed my overnight bag and hurried over to his place.

As he always did, he came out the front door before I was even up the walk. Our eyes met. We both smiled the way we didn’t dare when we saw each other at the office, and barely contained excitement swelled in my chest. When was the last time the sight of someone made me giddy like this? I had no idea, but the sight of him was damn sure doing it now, and I couldn’t get to the top of those steps fast enough.

I’d just cleared the top step before we were in each other’s arms. I didn’t know or care who was in charge right then, who initiated or led that deep, hot kiss. All the domination and submissive games could wait until I wasn’t so tired, and until I’d just spent some time with him. Some time like this—arms around each other, lips and tongues meeting for the first time in too long. My head spun and my heart pounded, and it wasn’t because my heels were precariously close to the edge of the top step.

We finally came up for air, and I whispered, “I needed that.”

“Makes two of us.”

I let my lips graze him again. “Pity we can’t do this at the office. It’d be enough to keep me going for days.”

Rick laughed, running his hands down my sides and drawing me closer. “Sorry, I only use this power for good, not evil.”

“Keeping me awake at work is evil?”

“Giving you a reason to spend more time in that office and less time on top of me is definitely evil.”

Yep, I was awake now. “I can’t argue with that logic.”

“Didn’t think so.” He kissed me once more, and then gestured for me to come inside. “I can’t believe how long it’s been since you’ve been here.” He laughed. “Guess I should’ve made sure you could still find the place.”

I followed him inside. “Find it? It hasn’t been that long.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t sure how badly your job had eaten your brain.”

I chuckled. “And points for not bringing my advanced age into the equation.”

Rick laughed. “You do recall I’m not that far behind you, right?”

“Fair point. And hey, zombie or not, it’s kind of hard to forget where this place is, fortunately. And it’s—good God.” I’d been here a handful of times but never really taken the time to drink in my surroundings because I’d been too preoccupied with their owner. Now, though… “This house really is amazing.”

He laughed quietly as he shut the door behind us. “Thanks.”

I gazed at our surroundings. Though the exterior was distinctly Tudor, the interior wasn’t. The foyer in which we were standing had clearly been designed with Roman architecture in mind, from the meticulously tiled archways to the intricate mosaic on the floor.

“Did you design this?” I asked.

“Are you kidding?” He snorted. “If I could design something like this, I wouldn’t be pouring money into Mitchell & Forsythe.”

“Well, we do the technical side of it, but you could have—”

“Trust me. I can’t.” He gazed around. “No, this was designed by an old friend before he retired. I couldn’t settle on one style for the whole thing, so I basically told him what styles I did and didn’t like, and let him go to town on it. Every room is different, but he made sure the styles segue into each other, or at least they have fairly plain hallways in between so nothing clashes.” He paused. “I’d finally give you the tour, but I just put dinner in the oven. In fact, I should probably check on it.”

“Sure.”

We moved into the kitchen, where something savory was cooking. The air was warm and filled with the smells of spices and a touch of garlic.

“You’ve been busy,” I said. “And your kitchen is spotless. What the hell?”

Rick laughed. “That’s because I hate doing dishes, and if I don’t do them as I go, they’ll never get done.”

“Smart.”

He checked on the food—which smelled even more amazing when he opened the oven—and set the timer for another half hour. While the food cooked, he poured us each a glass of wine, and we moved into his living room.

“I’ll give you a tour eventually,” he said. “Promise. But you look like you could stand to relax for a while.”

“I won’t argue with that.” As we sank onto the huge, plush sofa, I said, “So, did you have anything to do with my colleague and me getting booted out of work yesterday?”

He started to speak but hesitated. “Was that out of line?”

I rolled it around in my head for a second. In theory, it was more forward than I liked; I didn’t need someone rescuing me from my own workload. On the other hand, though, it meant I was here with him instead of hunched over a miniature hotel and inhaling glue fumes.

“No, it wasn’t out of line. I’m only your Dom in the bedroom.” I brought my wine to my lips and added, “I’m hardly going to bitch about you getting me a forty-eight-hour vacation.”