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I latched on to them, memorizing every last word.
We managed to crawl out of bed a half hour later and get into the shower. He washed every inch of my body, shampooed my hair, ran conditioner through it with gentle fingers, and kept spoiling my skin with soft, affectionate kisses, despite my halfhearted protests.
And that wasn't even the best part. The best part was how much we laughed, how much genuinefunwe seemed to have when we weren't fighting.
It didn’t hurt that my anger had thawed, and that I didn't see him as the inherently selfish, unredeemable asshole I used to.
After calling Jamie and filling her in on all the non-sexy stuff (because it was going to be so much more fun to see her freak out in person over a bottle of wine), I spent the morning with Adrien’s family while he took his work calls.
We went through a whole stack of photo albums, laughing at stories of a rowdy young Adrien wreaking havoc on the world around him. It was fucking adorable and provided me with endless teasing ammunition, so I decided to stay for just one more day and use it.
Except the one extra day turned into two. Then three. And by the fourth morning, I couldn’t remember the last time we’d bickered or fought. Bantered, yes. We did that constantly. But there was no venom or bitter animosity behind our jabs anymore. It was just… I don’t know. When we weren’t fighting, we just…fit.
There was never a dull or awkward moment. Not when his parents took us out to dinner, not when we spent an entire day hiking, kayaking, and enjoying the seven hours of blissful sunshine bestowed upon the island before the clouds took over again, and not when we cooped ourselves up in the guesthouse the next day, “resting.”
And then there was that. The sex. We were insatiable; and the more we did it, the more our bodies seemed to want.
Yesterday afternoon, as he’d been wrapping up another conference call, I’d changed into a cream-colored babydoll and crawled under his desk, nuzzling and kissing his hardening bulge over his slacks until he caved, hung up before the speaker had gotten through his last presentation slide, and grabbed a hold of me before I could make my escape.
I was on my knees again less than a minute later, my hands bound behind my back as Adrien unzipped himself and ordered me to “suck him off properly. Like a good girl.”
Likehisgood girl.
His pretty girl.
It was new. And instead of panicking or rebelling against his claim on me, I reveled in it, aching for him every time he said it. And he kept saying it until he was gripping my hair and shooting down my throat. Then he’d lifted me onto the desk, one hand fisting my ponytail as he fucked me with the other, demanding I repeat his words.
“Say it,” he kept insisting as I moaned, my wrists pulling against the leather belt wrapped around them. What was it about being restrained that made everything so much hotter? “Tell me you’re mine, Ria.”
I’d resisted until the ache in my core became unbearable, until Adrien’s eyes were half-feral again, swimming over my blushing face like it was the most awe-inspiring thing they’d ever witnessed. And just as I hit the brink of shattering, my lips moved out of their own violation. “I’m yours.”
His mouth had swallowed every whimper and moan that accompanied my orgasm, and then I was freed, my hands unbound so they could hug Adrien back as his kisses slowed, softened, became… tender. He’d carried me to bed and that had been it. We hadn’t climbed back out again until well past dinner time.
And even though I still didn’t think it was a great idea, I was starting to… at least consider it. Turning this little affair into something without an impending expiration date. Conducting a new experiment of sorts.
Adrien had brought it up again last night, asking if I was open to the idea. “It’s okay if you need to think about it,” he’d said when I hadn’t answered him right away.
So I was. Thinking about it. And other than the mess with his family and the engagement we’d lied about, there was one other sore spot I couldn’t get over: Alba.
“Tell me something,” I said, plucking a small strawberry out of the fresh bowl of fruit that had been hand-delivered to us by Julie this morning while I was still sleeping. She'd brought pancakes as well, and fresh whipped cream. I adored her. Truly. I could only hope that my future mother-in-law would be half as kind and nurturing as her.
Adrien and I were in the kitchen of the guesthouse, right under the temporary patch that had been installed on the roof to accommodate us. I was sitting on the granite kitchen counter with Adrien standing between my knees, his palms resting on my bare thighs.
I de-stemmed the strawberry, dipped it into the whipped cream, and brought it up to his mouth. He flashed me a devilish dimple before accepting the gift, making sure to lick and suck all the juice and cream from my fingers.
Aaaaand I was turned on again.
Focus, I chided myself.
“How is it possible that you didn't know Alba had a child when she worked for you for fouryears? That doesn't make any sense to me.”
His eyebrows twitched upward, before tightening slightly. He shoved a hand through his damp hair. “To be honest, that’s all on me. I had a really shitty experience with my assistant before her, and I was still... recovering from that when she was hired. I thought it would be better if our relationship was kept strictly professional, so I made it clear to her that the less we knew about each other’s personal lives, the better. But looking back now… I obviously took it a little too far.”
He grimaced when he said the last part, his regret clear. “I’ve said this before, but Iamsorry, Ria. She never told me the workload was too much. She never complained about anything or gave any indication that she wasn’t happy. She just... she never said no, so I never questioned it. A better boss might have, but I—I'll talk to her when I’m back. I promise.”
“What happened with your last assistant?” I asked. My hand had moved to his hip, my thumb stroking his sweater. It happened instinctively, the moment his voice dipped into the apologetic range.
He cleared his throat, briefly averting his gaze. “Long story short, I found out he was leaking my information online. Flight schedules, home address, phone number, vacation spots, meeting locations, you name it.” His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his gaze hardening. “You know that website for people who hate me? The information eventually made its way there, and all over a bunch of fan sites. But the original place it was posted was a lightly moderated forum for... I mean, there are fans, and then there are people who get obsessive, and delusional.”
