Page 72 of Painted Truths

I can almost see her turning that delicious shade of red that matches her lipstick from here.

“Umm… I… is everything okay?”

Gone is the cheeky sex kitten of earlier, and in her place, I’m gifted with that adorable rambling I want to memorise and replay when the desire hits. This woman is a walking contradiction, and I can’t get e-fucking-nough.

“Everything is perfect, Peaches. But, I just had to let you know, you may need to pack a bag for our date.”

“Henry…!” My name is a breathy admonishment on her lips, and I can’t help the chuckle that escapes me.

“I have to fly to the U.S. later tonight, and I…” All of a sudden, I’m a little bit anxious.

What if she says no?

Having never grafted for a woman in my life, I’m facing a feeling of uncertainty that is entirely at odds with my usual cocksure self. Blowing out a breath, I do what she told me to do earlier and pull up those big boy pants.

“Peach, would you please come away with me for the weekend? My best friend is getting married on Saturday, and I can think of nothing I’d rather than for you to be by my side.”

The silence is thick. I can’t even hear her breathing over the sound of my racing heart.

When she eventually speaks, my stomach drops.

“When do we leave?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Olivia

As I clean myself in Henry’s bathroom, I can’t help the self-satisfied smile that stretches across my face. I had known exactly what I was doing, known that my words and attitude would incite a reaction. I’d wanted that reaction, craved it.

Hell, I’d needed it.

I just hadn’t known how his demand that I suck him off would have excited me as much as it did. Upon hearing those sinful words, I realised how much I wanted to please him, to make him happy because it seems like he’s had precious little happiness in his world of excess.

The complete and utter control I’d felt upon falling to my knees on the plush carpet of his office floor, combined with the knowledge that little old me had the ability to bring this powerful man to his knees, was a potent cocktail.

If I’d reached down and touched myself through my jumpsuit, I’d have gone off like a firecracker from the simplest brush of my fingertips on my needy clit, but I’d been too focused on making it good for him to give my own needs more than a fleeting thought.

I’d pushed all thoughts of inexperience to the back of my mind, let his body guide me, and when he’d spent himself at the back of my throat, roaring his pleasure as he peaked, I knew my pupils were blown and eyes glassy from how much I wanted him.

At twenty-two, it seems ludicrous to still be so carnally innocent. Sure, I’ve branched out and tried new, different, and fun things like karaoke, which I hated, and sushi, which I loved. But men and sexual exploration never appealed to me beyond that unforgettable night Henry and I had shared. No other kiss has ever made my body sing like being in Henry’s mere presence does, and despite having distanced myself from the beliefs I’d been brought up with, I still believe that my virginity is a gift for whomever I choose.

And I am choosing Henry.

He is the only man to ever make me feel like I am who I’m meant to be when I’m in his arms. That I’m safe, protected and… home, wrapped in his embrace.

When he’d called me his, it’d been like something out of one of my favourite romance novels—utterly too fantastical to be real. But the zeal in his beautiful eyes had told me he meant every word.

So, I’m done fighting and second-guessing his motives. I’m ready now. I need to see what we could have—what we could become if given the chance.

Finishing my ablutions, I double-check myself in the enormous mirror, noting the main difference being my lack of lipstick, before making my way back down to the twenty-fifth floor. There’s no way I’ll be leaving before 5 pm. I have morals, and taking a day off after sucking my boss’s cock is a little too close to sexual favours for my liking.

I’ve just resettled at my desk, having assured Freya and several other concerned PAs that I’m just fine after my run-in with Andrea, when I hear the shrill tone of my desk phone ringing.

Grabbing the handset, I turn my back to the girls who are still propped up on my desk, discussing what had happened.

“DeMarco Holdings. You’re through to the office of Alexander DeMarco. How may I help you?”

“Peaches, baby.” The smirk in his tone is evident, and I can’t help my startled gasp, “Henry?”