Junk Mail(37)

But I want more. I want to see her come undone while I’m inside her. And by the way her breath escalates each time I slide into her, I think I’m going to get what I want.

My thumb finds her clit again, stroking it in time with each thrust. She twitches and contracts against my touch. Yup. I’ve got her where I want her, right on the edge.

“Go ahead, angel. You know what I want. Show me how you come for me.”

And she does. Hard and wild.

Her hands cling to my sheets for dear life as she unravels, contracting around me. She feels like heaven. And I’m right behind her, pouring into her, her name falling off my lips as I do.

Entirely drained, I collapse onto her momentarily, holding her tight against me as we catch our breath.

“Wow,” she pants. “That was incredible.”

“You are incredible.” I press a grateful kiss to her flushed cheek before carefully easing out of her. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

It’s a quick trip down the hall to the bathroom, where I ditch the condom and wash my hands as I try to cool down. When I get back to the bedroom, Peyton is curled up in the center of my bed, her dark hair splayed across the pillows.

“Hey there, sleepyhead.” I tug on a fresh pair of boxers and pull a T-shirt from my dresser, offering it to my snuggly guest. “Here, gorgeous. Put this on. It can get kind of chilly at night.”

Peyton sits up in bed and raises a brow at me. “Am I spending the night?”

I can’t help but laugh. “Well, it sure looks like you are to me. But I’m happy to drive you home if you’d prefer.”

She eyes the T-shirt a moment longer, then accepts it from me and pulls it over her head. It’s a little too big and looks adorable hanging off her shoulders. I’ll have to remember to let her keep it.

She moves from the center of the bed, making room for me to join her. I lace my arms around her waist, tugging her into me until she’s nestled against my frame, and bury my nose in her hair.

“Sweet dreams, Peyton,” I whisper, pressing a kiss into the back of her head. But she doesn’t respond. She’s already fast asleep in my arms.

? ? ?

It feels like hardly a nanosecond passes before I’m rudely awakened by the irritating, generic ringtone of my phone. Blinking, I check the clock on my nightstand.

Shit, it’s morning already? Eight thirty a.m., to be exact. I should have been in the office half an hour ago, at the latest.

I spring out of bed and lunge for my phone, picking it up on the last ring. “Hello, this is Josh.”

“Damn straight, it better be Josh.” It’s Brody. But not just any Brody. An incredibly pissed-off Brody. “I don’t know who the hell else would have this phone. But then again, who knows with you lately?”

I scrub my hand through my hair, trying to wrap my head around what he means by that blow. I decide not to acknowledge it.

“Sorry, I overslept. I was beat from the trip this weekend. But I’ll be in as soon as I can, I promise.”

By this point, Peyton is half awake, looking at me curiously through hooded eyes. She looks so fucking cute with her hair all messy from a good night’s sleep.

I wish I could crawl back into bed with her and treat her to some morning sex. But I don’t have time for that, as much as it pains me. I need to get to the office and get my shit together for her product launch.

“Whatever. See you soon.” Brody doesn’t even wait for a response before hanging up.

I sigh, throwing my phone onto the bed and rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. There are a lot of ways I would have liked to wake up this morning. This sure as hell wasn’t one of them.

“Who was that?” Peyton asks, blinking against the sun seeping in through the blinds.

“Brody, wondering where I am. I overslept, and we have a ton of work to do before we launch your boxes next week. I need to get a move on, or I think he might bite my head off the second I step through the office doors.”

She turns toward the clock to confirm what I told her. It’s 8:35 already. I need to book it if I’m going make it to the office before ten.

“I shouldn’t have come,” Peyton mutters, climbing out of bed to find her things.

Fuck, no. That’s not what I meant.

“Don’t say that,” I say. “I’m so glad you came. Please don’t make this out to be your fault. It’s not the end of the world that I’m a little late to the office.”

“That’s not the point.” Her voice catches in her throat. “The point is that I’m standing in the way of business getting done. We said we’d keep things professional, and then we didn’t. And now I’m getting in the way of your work, and Brody’s upset, and . . . and where are my clothes?”

“In the living room. I’ll get them.” I start for the door, but she stops me before I get there.

“I’ve got it. You need to get ready for work.”

I sigh. She’s right, but I don’t want to admit that. Work is important, but so is making sure Peyton doesn’t walk out of my door feeling like we made a mistake.

“Fine. But no leaving until I can call you a ride home, all right?”

She nods in agreement, then slips out the door to find her clothes. I call for an Uber, then speed shower the smell of sex off of me, brush my teeth, and throw on whatever work clothes I can find that aren’t dirty from our trip. All in record time.