Page 185 of Lorenzo

The sounds from the city outside seem distant, muted, like a world that doesn't belong to us anymore.

I finally have the strength to lift my head and look at her.

Her eyes are closed, her face flushed. Her hair is a wild mess around her head, some strands stuck to her damp cheeks.

She looks like a woman who has been completely and thoroughly fucked.

She looks beautiful.

I lean down and kiss her gently, a complete contrast to the rough, demanding sex we just had. While kissing her, I reach down and unbuckle my belt, dropping it to the desk with a soft thud.

Her arms come around me, and we embrace as our kiss deepens.

When we finally pull apart, she rests her head on my shoulder again.

"I can't feel my legs," she says, her voice still husky.

A chuckle escapes me. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"I'm serious," she says sleepily. "I think you're going to have to carry me out of here and pour me into my car."

"I'll carry you wherever you want to go, cara," I say, and realize I mean it.

I would carry her anywhere.

She lifts her head. "Are you going to buy me a new desk, too? I think you broke it."

I follow her gaze. The drawer is hanging open. Several pens and her stapler are on the floor. The papers on her desk are scattered. There's a dent in the wood where my knee was.

I let out a chuckle. A very satisfied one.

"I'll buy you a new one," I say.

"You're damn right you will," she says, but there's no heat in her words. She looks around the office again. "We scared Mocha off."

I look around, startled, having forgotten about him. I can just see him in the kitchen area, huddled in the corner, facing away from us.

"I think we embarrassed him," I whisper.

Donna lets out a laugh.

"He’s such a drama queen," she says.

"He was just starting to like me too," I say.

"He'll get over it. He likes men who spoil me," she says.

I reach up and push a damp strand of hair away from her face. "Is that what I'm doing?"

Her smile fades, and her gaze turns serious. She studies me for a long moment, her eyes searching mine.

Then she looks down, and when she looks back up, her defenses are back in place. "Well, between the food and the sex, I'm feeling pretty spoiled."

I resist the urge to push. She's not ready.

And truth be told, I'm not sure I am either.

"I aim to please," I say arrogantly.