“You’re one to talk.”
“I could be easy onyou.” She lets her hand move up from the dragon, and he groans. Underneath the navy cotton, his cock strains. She wants to see the moment his control breaks.
She’s moving to cup him when he abruptly pulls back. He yanks two of the divans out of their square arrangement, shoves them into one long line, and lifts her dangling legs onto themakeshift bed. Before she can parse what’s happening, he’s turning them so he’s underneath, his eyes a little wild.
“This way,” he says, rocking her hips against him. It’s so much pleasure all at once that her lips part, her head falling back. “Yes? This way,” he repeats, his voice like smoke over Scottish whisky, his fingers digging into her ass.
“Do that again,” she says, the words reedy and thin. “Can you do that—ah.”
“Patience, my darling.” The strain of keeping his unbearably slow pace shows in his clenched jaw. His eyes consume her. Every line, every curve. All the places the light catches when he thrusts.
“Please, James. Please, please,please,I need—”
He lets out a broken breath, a garbled “Fuck,” and she’s on her back.
“You need more,” he says, letting himself be heavy between her legs, pushing into her soaked knickers.
“God, James!” It comes out high with joy and wonder.
He heightens the pressure again. “You needmeto give this to you.”
“Yes. I need younow.”Now and forever,she thinks, and they feel like the same thing.
“You’ve been so patient, my darling,” he whispers, his lips caressing the shell of her ear, and that’s all it takes. She’s flying, pushing up underneath him, crying out with pleasure and release.
He stretches it out for a long time, staying close, rocking her until she’s limp and sated.
“Your turn,” she says lazily, drunk on what he’s done to her.
“Not tonight.” He kisses her jaw, reaches for his shirt, hands it to her.
She sits up.Not tonightmeans possiblynever.“Seriously?”
He smudges his thumb across her cheek. “Leave me one thing I can honestly say I didn’t do. Just in case.”
“If you’re going to invoke the future, James, can it not be the terrible future where everything has gone to shit and we need plausible deniability?” she says, joking but not joking. “I mean, surely we can come up with something better than that.”
“Then let’s say we’re saving something in case we meet again. In another life.” He eases himself into his pants with a wince and a smile. “Come on, then. Take my shirt, leave the skirt. How about we break into the gift shop and see whether they have any blankets.”
“You mean how aboutIbreak into the gift shop.”
“If you insist.” He grins, and she realizes she’s fallen into his trap again.
Fallen into a lot more than that.
26
J.D. bursts through the front entrance a little after seven a.m., red-eyed and panicky.
“I commute from Calgary, Ripley. Do you know how many heart attacks you can have in an hour? Because I do! I’ve had no shower, no coffee, and I’m wearing yesterday’s underwear. I want you to know this is not okay.”
“I’msosorry. I’ll cover lunch today. Wherever you want,” Ripley offers. “Paris. Rome.”
“It was my fault, not Ripley’s. I’ll pay.” She startles a little when James’s hand lands on her shoulder. He hasn’t done that before—touched her in a way that replaces words.
J.D.’s forehead creases, his eyes fixed on Ripley’s shoulder. James’s fingers clench, then disappear.
J.D. doesn’t know she’s not James’s student, but explaining would make it worse. SayingHe’s not my supervisoris as good as shoutingHey, we’re doing it!Recounting how they ended up working together could lead uncomfortably close to Will or Beauty or both.
