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“I should really get going.”
I hold her tighter. My dick still inside, where it belongs. “I don’t think so.”
“Would it please you if I stayed?”
“Very much.” I feel that tightness in my chest again. “But would it please you, Krasavitsa?”
“I’m far too tired to be going anywhere now.” She yawns again as my hands roam her skin. “But I didn’t bring any clothes.”
“I’ve taken care of that.”
She sighs. “Of course you have.”
“Just in case.”
“In case I was a foregone conclusion?”
“We were always going to end up like this. Why fight it?”
“I just don't want things to be awkward at work. You can’t keep sending me underwear.”
“I can do whatever the fuck I like,” I say. “Tomorrow I might send you a hundred roses if I so fucking wish.”
“You’re too much.”
Again, she melts away the icicles with little effort. I don’t deserve her. She’s too pure for me. A woman with the world at her feet, and who am I? A man who can’t get his shit together after fifteen years.
Sure, I’m successful in business. Very successful. But any relationships outside of business are non-existent. Women have been a crutch for me for as long as I can remember. Taking and giving what we both needed without any commitment.
But this, with Imogen. Fuck. I don’t know what the hell this is.
This protective surge I have ever since I met her. The need to be her everything when I know that’s impossible. I’m not capable of that. I don’t want that… or do I?
She has no idea the internal conflict going on inside me.
After a few moments, I realize she’s fallen asleep.
I have my dick still inside her and she’s asleep, wrapped around me.
How goddamn delicious.
The burn doesn’t just glow in my chest, it burns right through my heart. Giving me all kinds of ideas and possibilities that I thought I’d buried a long time ago.
I close my eyes, reveling in this new feeling. If I could bottle it and save it for later, I would. I fucking would. But instead, I enjoy the moment.
Not knowing how long it will last.
Chapter Eighteen
Imogen
I sit across from Doris in the boardroom and I can’t help but feel a little out of place. Everyone sits around waiting for Khristian. I can tell by the tension in the room that everyone is worried. Everyone except Johans, who insisted I sit next to him and Morgan. It seems their jobs are safe.
I’ve only been here for one full day, and I don’t need to be a complete genius to figure out that Mr. Petrov is a little bit of a tyrant. Then again, Doris told me on the quiet that there are a lot of people with their heads on the chopping block.
When Khristian made a surprise visit two weeks ago, he was expecting that everything was running smoothly and procedures were in place. He’s already fired three people since I started, and it feels like today is D-Day.
Johans sits there sipping coffee like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. Morgan makes polite conversation, but I can tell she’s slightly uncomfortable.
