Page 44 of Weston’s Treasure

I was in his office, it was early, and we were the only ones there.

“Yeah?”

“You want anything from Sam’s?”

Sam’s was the coffee shop around the corner. It was fabulous. The coffee was great, the croissants were buttery and flaky, and their raspberry Danish was to die for. In the last few days, I’d tried them all but decided the Danish was my favorite.

“A Danish and a spiced chai latte,” I answered then added. “Please.”

“A latte?”

“Thought I’d change it up a bit.”

“Right.” He smiled.

Weston smiled a lot. But when it was aimed in my direction it was different than when he smiled at McKenna. Not softer, but it reached his eyes and changed the meaning. I was quickly becoming addicted. Yesterday, I’d found myself saying silly things just to hear him chuckle or see him smile and shake his head at me like he thought I was amusing.

It was safe to say I was in the danger zone. The warnings were sounding all around me but I was ignoring them. I was no longer close to being in over my head, I was simply there. The pain would be immense and I knew it and was choosing to pretend I was living in a bubble.

It was working. I was open and honest with Weston, he was the same with me, and I was fast forgetting this was temporary.

“You gonna be okay here by yourself?” he asked and I glanced around the office I’d taken over.

Luckily he and Nix had been working downstairs in the conference room because all of my files were spread out over his desk, even yesterday’s to-go cup was still in the corner. Guilt at my inconsiderate takeover assailed me.

“I’m sorry your desk is such a mess,” I blurted out.

“What?”

“Your desk. I’ve moved all of your stuff. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Sweetheart, I could give a shit you moved my stuff aside.”

“Well, I do. It was rude. I didn’t even ask, I just came in here and took over your space.”

Weston pushed off the doorframe and stalked into the room, stopped next to me, swiveled the chair, then crouched so we were eye-to-eye.

God, I loved it when he did stuff like that. Anytime he had something to say, something important, he always made sure he was looking right at me.

“I like you in here,” he said. “I like knowing you’re up here working at my desk, surrounded by my things.”

And I was totally surrounded by him. His office was full of his Navy SEAL memorabilia. There was a handsome SEAL Trident carved out of wood that had pride of place on the wall. Next to that was a framed image of a group of bearded men all dressed in camouflage fatigues, holding rifles. The background was nondescript though it looked to be in the desert. One man, standing in the middle, was proudly holding a US flag. And among the warriors was none other than the President of the United States—Tom Anderson.

It was an awesome picture. Other pictures, similar but different, scattered the walls with other mementos mixed in.

I wouldn’t call it a shrine to Weston’s time in the Navy, but it was a reminder of how proud he was of his service. How much the men in those pictures meant to him.

“I like being in here, too,” I whispered.

“Good.” His hand went to the back of my neck and he gave it a squeeze before he put pressure there and mumbled, “Kiss me before I go.”

I didn’t think about denying his request, I couldn’t. I simply leaned forward and gave him what he wanted. Then he gave me what I wanted. A scorching kiss with lots of tongue and a fair amount of moaning. The sounds may’ve come from me, but the way Weston deepened the kiss I knew he liked them.

“Damn, you can fuckin’ kiss. Makes me lose my mind,” he murmured before he stood. “Be back.”

I watched his jean-covered ass as he moved across the space then disappeared. I did this thinking I obviously didn’t make him lose his mind enough—not like he made me lose mine—or at least not enough to make him want to have sex with me.

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