Oh this’ll be good. “Do you even know the signs of the zodiac?”
He roams his hand under my shirt and up my stomach. “You’re a troublemaker-i-corn. You’re a pain-in-the-ass-asaurus. You’re a wind-me-up-ra.”
I crack up. “Yes, I am.”
“So what are you?”
“Pisces,” I say.
“And the main traits of a Pisces are…sexy, chaotic, scrappy, feisty, looks on the bright side, sunshine, hot as fucking hell, beautiful, incredible, and drives me crazy?”
I preen.A lot.“Yes. We’re also intuitive.”
His hand spreads across my stomach. “And did your intuition tell you I’d make you scream in pleasure?”
I wriggle against his hand, savoring—no, basking like a cat, in this post-sex pillow talk. “Yes, and I was right, Mister Serious Boss. Who has a big secret.”
He shifts closer. “But see…now you know my secret. Maybe I’m not so cut and dried? Not so by the book? I surprised you, didn’t I?”
Hmm. He’s not wrong. “You’re a little right,” I admit.
He loops his arm around me, jerks me against him. Presses a kiss to my lips. “I have a dinner meeting later tonight,” he says, reluctance coloring his tone. The sound makes me wonder if he’s feeling this pull too.
“Is that code for karaoke?” I can’t hide my excitement. And if he is heading to Pour Decisions, I desperately hope he asks me to go.
But with a smile, he shakes his head. “No. Just a social media agency. It’s rigid, analytic, stickler stuff.”
“Not the Venus rising side of you?”
He gives a cocky grin, then pumps his hips against my leg. “I’d like to make my Venus rise in you again.”
Again.
There’s the opening, the chance to say something daring, risky, and terribly stupid. Likewhat are we doingandcan we please do it again?
I’m gearing up to ask the question, and maybe he is, too, since he’s not making a move toward the door—he’s just staring off at the wall, a little lost in thought.
But when I part my lips to say his name in a hopeful question, a loud rap rattles me.
Someone’s knocking on the door. Captain flies off the bed, racing to the door, barking once, twice.
“Are you expecting someone?” Sawyer asks with concern in his voice.
“I’m not.”
“Want me to check?” he asks, popping out of bed and grabbing his shirt, a man ready to protect his woman.
“Yes please.”
He strides out of the bedroom, shoving his arms into his shirt as he goes. I follow, then blink in surprise when I see—Veronica on the other side of the door.
27
SWEET LEG LOVE
CHLOE
I knew Veronica was in town since she’s shooting a cameo onHappily Maybe After, and sure, I told her she could stop by anytime. But people don’t always take you seriously when you say that.
