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“So fucking tight, PJ. I’m so damn hot for you…”
He pumps harder, and his hands slide up under my sweater, massaging both breasts as he pounds me from behind. Steadying myself against the desk, I ride out the orgasm I didn’t think could continue like this. But like everything about Colin Hathaway, this too is a surprise.
One I don’t want to end.
Seated back at our table, the only hint of our field trip to the office is the fact that our next course has been served. That, and a slight rumple of Colin’s hair. I’m sure mine is a nest of curls, but I’m too distracted staring at the handsome man across the table from me to care.
I slide the filets of sole around on their little sea of butter sauce and take a bite of a fried squash blossom with a honey glaze.
Every morsel is delicious, but they pale in comparison with the appetizer I just experienced in Colin’s office.
He spears a bite of fish and swirls it in the sauce before popping it into his mouth. I can’t stop staring at the beauty of his face, placidly glowing in the light just outside the windows. I follow the afternoon sun’s glow down across the San Francisco Bay, where it paints a long, bright stroke against the water.
It reminds me that I should leave my small-town community more often.
“Thank you for the tour.” I point in the direction of the kitchen, where we moved quickly past the chefs on our way back. “Do you do that a lot?” I give him a cheeky smile, hinting at the many women who would sacrifice a kidney for the treatment I just received.
Colin doesn’t look amused. A muscle in his jaw clenches and his eyes narrow.
“No.”
I wait, but he presses his lips together as though preventing himself from saying more.
“O-kay…” I wonder if I’ve made him think about an occasion where he brought another woman there, and it didn’t go well. I’m still formulating what to say next when he grabs my hand. His grip is strong, as though I’m dangling from a ledge, and he’s the only one who can reel me in. His chest swells as he takes a deep breath. When he lets it out, his face calms and he brings my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles and letting his breath warm them.
Somehow, the warmth of him sends chills down my spine. A delicious combination of fire and ice that’s so addictive.
“I don’t do that ever,” he says in a quiet tone that would put fear into soldiers on a battle field.
“Okay—” I start to say because he seems upset, and I’m pretty sure I caused it with my flippant remark.
He puts a finger against my lips to stop me from speaking.
“I don’t fly women to the helipad of my office and show them the rovers and spacecraft that are still in development. I don’t. And I never take women to my office in the restaurant and go down on them. Not ever. I’m doing these things with you and only you. Because you make me want to see what life looks like outside my little bubble. But I only want to do them with you.” He stares so long into my eyes, and my heart starts hammering so hard that I think I might need CPR in another minute.
But he kisses me instead. It’s a life-giving kiss, and it seals the deal.
If I thought there was any chance of getting through Colin’s time at the vineyard without falling hard for him, the odds just fell to zero.
I want him for as long as he’ll give me, even though I know our clock is ticking.
Chapter
Twenty
Colin
I couldn’t have planned it better if I’d hired an advance team of professionals to snowplow the way to a perfect date. Taylor Swift just happened to be playing at the stadium near my house this weekend.
I just happened to have a few investors who worked for the touring company responsible for booking her concerts.
The rest was just phone tag and calling in a few favors.
“I didn’t bring a change of clothes,” PJ said when I told her our day in Silicon Valley would continue into the evening.
I’d already thought of that. I had my assistant help with that part because I don’t know shit about women’s fashion, and by the time we arrived at my apartment to freshen up for our evening plans, she’d delivered four outfits for PJ to choose from, as well as a pair of sequined cowboy boots for me.
What kind of man would I be if I wasn’t willing to put on sparkly boots for the woman I don’t want to let walk out of my life in a few days? I’ve been resisting the thought all week, butwith the expiration date on our time together looming, my brain won’t let me resist it anymore.
