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“How was work, Mrs. Boerboom?” I ask, setting my laptop aside.
“Busy, good. Whatever.”
Whatever. I lift a brow, and she sets down her bag and phone with a laugh. “Ben, don’t tease me!”
She’s got her hair twisted up with a few strands falling around her pretty neck, and a pair of wide-legged pants in pale blue that swing wide when she walks. Mesmerizing.
“About what?” I’m playing dumb, but she knows better.
Her lips part on a smile as she slides onto my lap, wrapping one arm around my neck and giving Z a little scratch with her free hand. “The math test. I know you got your results back.”
“Oh that.” I grin, burrowing into the spot between her shoulder and ear for a little nibble. She’s talking about the discrete mathematics and number theory course I’m taking for my teaching degree.
“Ben!”
Love it when she says my name. And as much as I like keeping her on the hook, I’m too pumped not to spill. “Aced it.”
She lets out a delighted little whoop and gives me a firm kiss. And when my arms wrap tighter around her, a softer one. Slower. Deeper.
We tangle into each other, pulling closer. Fingers sinking into hair. Hearts aligned and beating in time as her hips start a sinuous tease that has me gripping the armrest hard enough it creaks.
“Ben,” she murmurs, a hint of laughter in her tone.
“Sorry, sorry.” New furniture. “I’ll be careful.”
Her head lifts, and I’m confronted by one arched brow and her sternest look. “You better not.”
Jesus, this woman is perfect. “Okay, I won’t.” And because her hips haven’t stopped moving and this rhythm is really working for me, it’s not entirely show when I grip again, getting a louder creak.
Satisfaction lighting her eyes, she bites her lip in that way that promises all naughty good things to come. “Elle, tell me what you want.”
She rocks again, playing with the buttons of her blouse before slipping the top one free.
I lean in to lick that freshly exposed bit of skin. Follow the lacy edge of her bra as far as the remaining buttons will allow. Her breath is coming in soft little pants through my hair and?—
“What happened with the couch?”
Working the remaining buttons because I’m on strict orders not to rip off more than one a month and I hit my quota last week, I assure her, “It’s fine. Sturdy. Just a little creak.”
“No,” she pants against my temple. “Not this couch. The couch.”
I stop. Look up.
Yeah, she’s talking about the couch that used to reside in Axel Erikkson’s place before he found out he was having a kid… in two hours… and made that deal with Nora to be his nanny.
“Nothing like whatever you’ve heard.” The rumors around that couch are wildly exaggerated. Mostly.
But if I think that’s going to reassure my girl, I’m wrong. “What’s that face?”
She shrugs. “I’m just a little disappointed, that’s all.”
I cough. “What?”
Another lip-nibble. Another swivel that has me seeing stars. “Kind of exciting to have landed the man capable of destroying a couch in a single night. I had ideas, not gonna lie.”
Blink. Don’t ask. Don’t— “What kind of ideas?”
She pulls me closer and whispers in my ear. My jaw drops, and I pull back with about a nanosecond to spare before I lose total control.
