“So, you guys were engaged?” I asked, my fingers threading through his. I looked down at his hands—he had such good hands. Strong. Perfect. Smooth. And they felt really good on my naked body.
“It was a long time ago and clearly it was a mistake,” he said. There was a pause as he looked at me seriously. “And you. You ever been engaged?”
I laughed. “Nope. Not me. Haven’t even come close. Longest relationship was probably six months—”
He pushed the sheet down and I shivered as cool air rushed over me. His fingertips traced a line down my stomach and then stopped and circled my tattoo. “Was that the relationship that ended in this tragic piece of tattoo art?”
I giggled. “No! That was my high school boyfriend for all of five minutes. His name was Leon. I tried to get it removed, but, God, it is sore. I mean, really, really sore.”
He laughed. “So now you just have the word ‘on’ tattooed on your hip?”
“Basically,” I said, raising my head and looking down at it.
“You could tattoo the word ‘off’ here.” He ran his fingers from one of my hip bones to the other and drew circles around my tattoo. I gasped. My stomach muscles tightened and I raised my hips off the bed just a little.
“And become a human plug point?” I asked playfully. “Turn me on, turn me off?”
He lowered his lips to my hip and kissed it. “Are you on or off right now?” he asked.
“Mmmm,” I mumbled, “I think I might be on.” The sensation of his tongue across my stomach was ticklish and sexy all at the same time.
“Again?” he whispered against my stomach. But then he stopped, put his head on my stomach and sighed. “As much as I would like to flip the switch again, I’m afraid I really do need to get back home. I haven’t spent a night away from Emmy before—”
“Sure! Of course, I totally understand,” I said, raising my body off the bed.
He sat up slowly and then suddenly looked like he was disengaging from me.
“What?” I asked.
“I come with baggage, you know. And if you didn’t want to, I mean, if that seems too much for you, I would get it.”
“I like your baggage,” I said quickly.
He turned. “I think my baggage likes you too.”
“She’s likeable baggage,” I said. “Well, I guess we shouldn’t really be calling her baggage.”
“No!” He turned quickly. “She’s not. She’s a gift.”
I smiled at him and we fell into another silence. Our eyes locked. A question seemed to hang in the air between us.
“So?’ I finally asked.
“So, what?”
“Is this . . . are we . . . is this a thing, like a one-time thing, or is this a thing that you think you might want to carry on with?” I felt embarrassed by the question. Exposed and vulnerable.
He shook his head, as if unsure of himself. “Look, I usually don’t do this, well, I did it once and it didn’t end well, mixing business with my personal life. In fact, it nearly cost me the business once. Sasha and Murray, they didn’t only betray me personally, but professionally too. They stole one of Stark’s ideas and ran off and started their own business with it. I nearly lost my position in the company over that. If we did this, we would have to keep it a secret at work. I wouldn’t want anyone, especially not Mr. Grey, to know what was happening, I think he’s looking for a reason to kick me out of my own company and—”
My heart plummeted and I cut him off quickly. “No, you’re right. It’s probably not a good idea—I mean, I work for you, and sex just makes things messy. You’re right, better that this is a one-off thing.”
“I didn’t say that. Unless that’s what you want? Do you want that?” he asked.
“Doyouwant that?” I asked back.
“This was really nice. More than nice. This was amazing,” he said. “And I would be cool if it happened again.” He looked like he blushed when he said it.
I tried to conceal the giddy schoolgirl smile, but it wasn’t working.
