Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
It feels wrong to speak.
But at least that familiar silence isn’t scary. Not when it’s so dangerously comforting.
And this time as I drift off to sleep, unlike on the riverboat, I know he’ll still be there when I wake up.
16
BET THE FARM (PATTON)
There’s a black cat in my bed and she might be the luckiest little creature alive.
I am fucking blessed.
Soft morning light streams through the curtains and illuminates her sleeping face. I’ve been awake for a while now, staring at her in awe.
We’re both still naked, though she’s wrapped the blankets around herself in a snug nest.
Usually, this is the time to sneak away.
It’s either a forgettable moment best left behind me or I have urgent business to get on with. But leaving, that’s missing from my mind.
Shit, I’d gladly throw away an entire workweek if it means adding a few more hours to this morning, stretching out time like the gold sunrays spilling across her mahogany hair.
She’s more relaxed in her sleep than I’ve ever seen. Her forehead lacks the lines that gather there so often, her mouth soft and her face worry free.
It’s a crime this isn’t her normal face.
I want her to feel peaceful.
Just about as much as I want to wake up beside her every morning without a care in the world—or a goddamned looming disaster.
Yes, I know. Everything about this is wrong.
The trouble is, it feels too right.
And she stirs, wiggling free from her cocoon of covers. When she opens her eyes and sees me lying beside her, panic flashes on her face.
Thankfully, brief. A startled second, a twitch of her lips before it fades behind the impassive wall she throws up.
“Morning,” I say with a yawn. “Haven’t slept that well in years.”
“Um.” She sits up, holding the covers up with one hand like a shield. With the other hand, she brushes her loose hair back from her face. “Patton, did we…?”
Oh, shit.
Not the words a man wants to hear from a woman after he’s made her scream half the night.
“We did,” I say carefully. “Let me guess, you regret it already?”
“No.” She clears her throat. “No, but we should probably talk about what happened.”
“What part?”
“The sex, Patton,” she says flatly, finger combing her hair again. “I mean, the fact that you’re my boss and we just slept together.”
Yeah, I get the dilemma.
I just broke my cardinal rule, dipping my pen in the company ink and damn near breaking it off.
Every part of me aches to take her in my arms, but I don’t move, staying propped up on my elbow as I look at her. “You regret it then?”
“I…” She stops, her eyes narrowed as she looks at me. “Do you?”
“Not for a second. I’d do it again in half a heartbeat.” I give her a lazy smile. “In fact, when we’re done talking, I’m game.”
Her eyes flick to my lap, to the hard-on tenting the sheets before she looks away. She sucks her lip helplessly. “Shouldn’t we figure this out first?”
“Figure out what, woman? The fact that we decided to stop bickering and fuck each other’s brains out instead? Sounds like progress with this relationship.” My jaw tightens on the last word.
Damn, this is bad when I’m casually throwing the r-word around.
I can downplay it to hell and back, but I think she knows this can’t be brushed off as business this time.
I don’t bother trying.
“No, it’s not that,” she admits, flushing. “I’m just thinking about the fallout, the consequences. What happens if someone else at Higher Ends finds out? What about your brothers?”
I snort loudly. “No one needs to know. Frankly, Dex and Archer are oblivious, and if by some miracle they’re not, they’ll keep their idiot mouths shut. We’re adults, Salem. We’re old enough to keep a secret. Hell, we’re already pretending to be a couple for half this conference. If this is what we want—and I know I do—why is it anybody else’s business?”
My voice burns my throat.
I can almost see the instant when she comes to the same conclusion, or maybe just finds the same twisted excuse for crossing lines that ought to be sacrosanct.
“Just for the weekend,” she says quietly. “You’re probably right. If we’re careful, no one has to know…”
“As long as you’re quiet. You think you can manage?” I pull her forward, kissing her until I growl in her mouth.
“I… I…” she stammers adorably as I sweep her hair back, closing my fist around a makeshift ponytail.
“I’m not going to make it easy for you,” I promise.
“Challenge accepted.”
The hot flicker in her hazel eyes cuts me in two.
This is how this woman brings me crashing to my knees.
The fact that she takes every challenge and inverts them, hounding me to be better in every way.
And as my free hand skims down to her ass, grabbing her until her moans taste like caramel, I can’t say I mind this capacity one damn bit.