Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
I feel decadent. Worshipped. He takes his time with a slow, unhurried fuck that hardly feels like a fuck at all.
As he swivels his hips, he lets out the most sensual gasp that turns into a lusty groan. “You feel so fucking good to me,” he whispers, tender and fierce.
I reach my hand back, grasping his hip. I don’t usually have the use of my hands during sex. For tonight, I relish it—the chance to bring him closer. I curl my hand around his hard ass, squeezing as he moves deliciously in me. Pleasure cascades under my skin, through my bones. My head swims with this…bliss.
I turn my face to him. “Kiss me while you fuck me,” I murmur.
“I’m not fucking you tonight,” he corrects.
“I know,” I whisper.
“I’m making love to you,” he says, and I shudder while he trembles.
Then there’s no more talking because I’m so consumed by this connection with him. This intimacy. This deep and passionate love.
In the morning, I take Zane and Gage and Eliza out to breakfast at a trendy café on the street where Zane and I had, for all intents and purposes, our first date. We sit down at a table under an umbrella on the patio, beautiful people scurrying by. The first baseman bumps his shoulder to mine. “Order for me, handsome,” he says, in a languid, happy voice.
Gage rolls his eyes. “I never thought you’d be such a lovesick fool,” he says.
“I did,” Eliza chirps.
Zane blinks at her. “You did?”
“You’re kind of goofy with me, Uncle Zane. Like you are with Maddox,” she says then shrugs easily. “You’re just a teddy bear. You always have been.”
I grin as I turn to the guy by my side. “Yeah, you kind of are a softy,” I say.
Zane grumbles and Gage laughs.
When we’re done, I pay for the meal. It’s a small thing, but it’s my thing. And I like doing it for the man I love.
Later that day, back in my home, the clock unwinds. I glance at my watch, then the door. “You need to go.”
He has to catch a flight back to San Francisco. Another series starts this weekend. Baseball is never-ending during the season.
Near the door, he ropes his arms around me. “I don’t want to leave,” he whines.
“I’ll be there next week,” I say.
“You could come now,” he points out, with a winning grin.
“I wish,” I say, already missing him.
We’ve worked out the details. I’ll try to line up my work trips with his games whenever I can. He’ll do the same. It should be a little bit easier because I’m working for myself now.
But I’ll be busy building a new business. That starts tonight when I meet Trace for dinner. I plan to sign him by the end of the meal. But first, I have to finish the conversation I started at the baseball game.
Vance waits for me in the lobby shaking his head, still in disbelief over my departure. He hands me a canvas bag. “You have nothing in your office but a couple of stress balls, and a picture of you and a bunch of friends,” he says.
“That’s me. I’m not into things,” I say, taking the bag. But I didn’t come for the stress balls. I came to own up to my choice. To talk man to man. “I wanted to say thank you. For bringing me on. It’s been quite an experience,” I say, though I don’t add I learned so much about myself and what I want in business. I don’t want to work relentlessly for someone else. I want to work relentlessly for me.
A big agency turned me all the way off. I intend to work for a handful of clients I can deliver the moon for.
Vance shrugs, scratches his jaw. “I can’t say I’m surprised,” he says.
He caught on to Zane and me? “Why do you say that?” I ask evenly, masking any shred of worry.
“You work too hard to work for our company,” he says, and I’m relieved he means work, not play. “Always figured I’d lose you soon enough. Just not this soon,” he says, then flashes a dickhead smile. “I’m just glad you can’t really take my favorites. Nate just signed officially with us. So did Lucy and Mia.”
He’s gloating, and that’s fine by me. That’s his style. But it won’t be mine. I stretch out a hand. “It was good working with you.”
“You too.” He heaves a sigh. “So, you and Zane. When did that start?”
That’s none of his business. I’m not beating myself up anymore over the lines that I crossed. I served my penance. I nearly lost the man I love. I have nothing to defend. “The other night,” I say simply.
Some answers require loopholes. Because really, the other night is when I decided to take a chance.