The Casanova (The Miles High Club #3)(87)

I bite my bottom lip as I peer into the bags: expensive tissue paper, lace, and silk is all I see.

“Ummmm.” I frown.

He raises his eyebrow. “Um what?”

“You remember that it’s that time of the month for me . . . right?”

He looks at me flatly. “What does that mean?”

“Well.” I shrug. Do I have to say it out loud? “I can’t have sex tonight.”

“And . . . your point is?”

I stare at him.

“If I only wanted you for sex, Kathryn, I’m pretty sure we wouldn’t have got past the first date.”

My mouth falls open. “What?”

“I mean . . .” He gives a subtle shake of his head as he corrects himself. “That came out wrong.”

I give him a smile as I cup him through his trousers. I rub my thumb back and forth over his tip, and feel it enlarge beneath my touch. “What am I here for?”

“So that I can fuck your hot little ass.”

I burst out laughing and he turns me toward the stairs and slaps me hard on the behind. “Go. Before you get yourself into trouble.”

With the bags in my hands, I take the stairs two at a time in excitement.

Hell on a cracker, this night is turning out amazing.

He’s amazing, I knew it all along.

There’s hope for us yet.

Elliot takes a shower and walks into the bedroom in only a towel; he drops it before me and I feel myself flutter. No matter whatever goes on between us, his sexuality or my body’s reaction to it is never in question.

He turns off the light and crawls in behind me, takes me into his arms and kisses my cheek.

I smile softly at his touch.

He puts his big, warm hand over my tender stomach and we meld into each other’s bodies. The air between us is alive with intimacy and comfort. We both lie in silence and I know he’s not going to sleep; I can almost hear his brain ticking away in the darkness.

“We aren’t just fucking, Elliot,” I whisper.

“I know.”

“What are we?” I whisper again.

“Too tired for this conversation.”

I frown.

“Go to sleep, baby,” he murmurs, then kisses my cheek and holds me close.

Questions roll around in my psyche and yet, here in his arms, I feel safe.

Too tired for this conversation . . . What does that even mean?

It’s like I’m swimming out to sea with no sight of land. I know it’s dangerous, but I can’t get out of the rip tide as I get swept along. Perhaps I wouldn’t, even if I could.

The water is dark, but it’s too late. I’m too far from the shore to turn back.



My dearest Pinkie,

Tell me something interesting, my day is dull.

Ed

X

I smirk and look guiltily around my office. I really shouldn’t be speaking to Ed while I’m working, but my day is pretty dull too. We’ve got into the habit of speaking numerous times a day. Completely platonic of course, but fun nevertheless. If it wasn’t for the sarky sense of humor, I couldn’t reconcile that he and Elliot are the same person at all.

Dearest Ed,

There are two body parts on a human that never stop growing.

The nose and the ears.

Pinkie

X

A reply bounces straight back.

Pinkie,

I must say, I’m let down with your so-called interesting fact. Another mundane piece of information I didn’t need to hear.

Thankfully I’m blessed with perfection. Unfortunately I know that I can’t say the same for you.

Perhaps you should update your profile picture from a cat to an elephant now to evade catfishing more poor unsuspecting suitors.

I giggle. “You idiot.”

I type:

My dearest Pinocchio,

I am a very busy woman, doing a very important job.

Stop annoying me and go and tend to your garbage.

I smile and click out of my email. Edgar Moffatt, my sweet distraction.

Saturday night, Andrew drives through London; Elliot and I in the backseat.

“Do we really have to go?” I sigh. “I hate the thought of walking into this thing alone.” I’m dressed in a long, black, fitted evening gown, my hair is curled, and my makeup is natural. Elliot approves—I had to fight him off before we even left home.

“I told you already”—Elliot picks up my hand and kisses the back of it—“Miles Media have made a very generous donation and I have to be there for the presentation.”

“I guess.” I exhale heavily as I stare out of the window.

“I’ve arranged for us to be seated at the same table and we can leave as soon as the speeches are over.” He leans over and kisses me just below my ear to try and sweeten the blow. “Then we can go to your favorite restaurant.”

“You mean, your favorite restaurant,” I whisper. We’ve been to the private dining room twice, and each time I’ve ended up giving Casanova Miles a lap dance with a happy ending. Something about that place makes me putty in his hands.

Elliot gives me a slow, sexy smile. “Well, you do seem to enjoy yourself there.”

My eyes flick to Andrew—can he hear us?

I slide my hand up Elliot’s thick quad and dust my fingers over his crotch. His eyes hold mine and I feel a twinge beneath my touch as he flexes his dick.