Do You Take This Man (35)

“Don’t you forget it.” RJ’s breath puffed against my neck. “If either of us finds someone else or it just isn’t working anymore, we’re done.”

“Sure,” I said, making sure we were alone in the room and then lowering my lips to the side of her neck, figuring out the rules here as we went. I kissed below her ear.

The breath that escaped her lips was motivation enough to kiss her there again.

“You’ve been tested?”

That familiar prickle at the back of my neck rose at her question. I remembered the smell of the clinic and how numb I’d felt asking for everything. “I’m disease-and virus-free.”

RJ didn’t notice the shift in my tone. “Me, too.” Her voice was all business, except for the breathy way she continued when I reached the base of her throat and my hand tightened at her waist.

My entire body wanted to connect to hers as I inhaled the scent of her neck. “Birth control?”

“I have an IUD. Condoms?” RJ’s voice was low against my ear, seductive and somehow matter of fact.

“I have one in my wallet.”

RJ pulled back and met my eyes. “No drama.”

“Wouldn’t think of it.”

She nodded and wrapped her hand around mine. “C’mon.”

“Where are we going?”

“To find a supply closet.”





Chapter 19


    RJ



TODD, MY ASSISTANT, had flagged things of interest in the research I’d asked him to gather and I read through notes, communication, and reports on the Avente Foundation, headed since its inception by Andrew Mayfield. I skimmed over the summary and then clicked between documents. Mr. Mayfield had put all of his energy into the foundation and it seemed to be a priority for him, but both Mayfields were emotionally attached. If there was going to be a weak link in his chain, it was there, but so far everything was all about helping kids of color go to college and making dreams come true.

“You’re early.” Lear strode toward me, his gait cocky, a half smile on his lips.

When my meeting ended, I’d decided not to drive back across town but to use the wedding venue as a makeshift office. “No sense wasting billable hours driving back to work.”

“Mm,” he said, reaching me, resting a shoulder against the wall to my left, his arms crossed loosely over his chest, sleeves rolled. His gaze dipped to my lips and my lower belly clenched in anticipation. “Couple won’t be here for an hour.”

I glanced at my watch and set aside my phone. “I can give you fifteen minutes.”

His smile quirked. “You’ll want more.”

Brushing my palms down my skirt, I glanced around the small space. “Not if you’re efficient.”

“Is that how this enemies-with-benefits thing will work? I take what time you’ll give me?”

Lear wore a black shirt that fit over his sculpted chest and highlighted his shoulders.

“Yes.” I traced my fingers over the buttons, enjoying the way his smile faltered. “That’s how it’ll work.”

He studied my face, not making a move to touch me. He was silent for two beats longer than I could hold on to my cool, not that I let him see it. I wondered if he couldn’t handle this or would change his mind, but he stepped away. “Follow me.” He walked toward a closed door on the opposite wall and opened it up to reveal a supply closet, the shelves lined with boxes of tissue and cleaning supplies. “It’s not . . . romantic.”

Lear smelled good, and I ran a palm up his chest again, wanting to feel the firm muscle. “We don’t need romance,” I said, pulling him toward me in the cramped space.

“You’re right. Romance gets messy.” Lear’s mouth lowered close to my lips but dipped to my neck instead. His lips worked over my throat as his fingers teased the nape of my neck. “Complicated.”

I panted, dragging my nails across his back, turned on and interested in what in his past was so complicated, but I didn’t want to open doors to sharing stories. “Don’t mess up my hair.”

“I’ll be careful.” Lear’s hand moved lower over the fabric of my skirt. A promise and reminder of his powerful hands that slid to the zipper on the side. “Better take this off so it doesn’t wrinkle.”

I shimmied out of the fabric and draped it over a stack of chairs. “You’re so considerate.” I kissed him, enjoying the give of his lips and the soft heat of his tongue.

“I’m a nice guy,” he said, sliding a hand down my belly and between my legs. “If you give me a chance.” His fingers teased me through the fabric of my underwear, soft pressure over my needy flesh.

I palmed the bulge in his pants through the fabric, the rigid length tempting and hot. “I don’t care about nice, and you only have twelve minutes left.”

Without warning, he slid his fingers into my underwear, teasing and stroking, his movements quick but intentional. “You’re going to want more time.”

I already wanted more time. An image of spending all night under those touches flashed through my head, but I pushed it aside.

“But I’ll follow your rules,” he said, dipping a finger and then two into me, moving in and out of my slick heat, finding an angle that made me groan against his neck. “Are you getting lipstick on my collar?”