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“I’ll have something typed up for you to practice. It’s rough right now, but with some revisions, it’ll be solid,” Eleanor assured me, slipping off her glasses and shutting her laptop.

Her smile tugged at something in my chest, twisting it in a way that I was learning to like.

I walked over to the bed, climbing in beside her and leaning back against the headboard.

“Thank you,” I muttered, rolling my head to look at her.

Eleanor leaned back too, mimicking my posture. “Are you feeling okay?” she asked, tucking her legs up and wrapping her arms around them. “That’s the second time you’ve thanked me.”

“I give credit where it’s due, Sunshine.”

Instead of protesting the nickname, she smiled, her cheeks tinged a soft shade of pink. Her gaze flickered down to my hand, lying lax at my side, before slowly shifting back up.

Then, with a deliberate motion, she inched her hand closer until her pinky hooked around mine.

I didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away.

I let myself feel it—the soft brush of her skin, the warmth seeping into me like a slow burn.

“Besides the speech, which I’m handling for you, what else has you nervous?” she asked.

The truth sat heavy in my throat.

The vulnerability of standing in front of strangers. Admitting fault for something I should have seen coming a mile away. Knowing the world was watching, waiting to attack the second I stumbled.

None of those thoughts left my lips.

Instead, I said, “Having to speak in front of people.”

She arched a brow. “Don’t you do that all the time as CEO?”

I shrugged. “That’s what I hire people for.”

She nodded like she understood, and her pinky tightened around mine.

“I might have a trick to help with that,” she said, a wicked grin replacing her soft smile.

I narrowed my eyes. “I’m scared.”

“Just picture me in my underwear.”

I groaned, my mind betraying me instantly. The thought of Eleanor standing before me in a matching red lace set sent heat surging south, my cock swelling against my sweatpants.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’d be helpful for me,” I muttered, glancing down at the very obvious reaction forming beneath the fabric.

Eleanor burst into laughter, covering her mouth with her hand. “Oh. Yeah, we don’t want you showing that to the crowd.”

I smirked. “Jealous they might see it and like it?”

“Actually, yes,” she confessed, her voice teasing but her eyes holding something real. “I don’t love the idea of anyone else wondering about the size of your cock.” She shifted, dropping her voice to a sultry whisper. “But at least I’d be the only one who knows what it feels like ins—”

I clamped a hand over her mouth before she could finish, heat licking down my spine at the mere suggestion.

“Any more talk about my dick and what it feels like inside you, and I’ll strip you bare right here,” I warned, my voice low and rough.

Eleanor pulled away from my grasp, but instead of teasing me further, she sighed and rested her head on my shoulder. The simple motion sent something foreign spiraling through me—something deeper than lust, something dangerously close to comfort.

Typically, this would be the moment I’d start pulling back. The moment I’d find an excuse to make her leave, to reclaim my space, my solitude.