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“Answer the phone when it rings, Dustin.”
“Yes, ma’am. What do I tell her when she asks where you went?”
“Tell her that I said to go fuck herself.”
A wide smile reaches across his face as I walk out of the building.
I felt great when I walked out of the building, but as I rode back to the hotel, I imagine I fucked things up royally. Deacon handpicked that woman. There must’ve been something about her that put her on the list.
I made a call to the office of the woman we first met with this week. She had a level head, and was so busy she was a little scattered, saying more than once that she had trouble finding good help to keep everything straight. I give her front desk clerk Dustin’s information, praying they’ll give him a call and bring him in for an interview. It’s the best I can do for the beaten down young man.
The ride back to the hotel is too fast, and I have no idea what I’m going to say to Gaige once I get back to my room, but I can’t put it off as long as I’d like because I find the door connecting our rooms ajar. It doesn’t feel like a violation. The man has spent too much time inside of me to get offended that he accessed my room and unlocked it from my side.
I walk toward it, pushing it open to find him still sprawled on his bed, covers up around his waist with his laptop on his lap.
He gives me a lazy grin.
“Look at how the other half lives,” I tease as I lean against the doorjamb.
“You’re back earlier than expected. I was trying to talk myself into going down to the gym but now that you’re here, I can get in a whole other kind of workout. Come jump on my dick.”
I shake my head, my lips automatically turning up into a grin. The teasing between the two of us is so easy. I actually find myself liking this man.
“Did she cancel last minute?”
I shake my head. “Sandra Halen would not be a good fit for BBS. She’s a total asshole.”
“She was who Deacon wanted.”
“She isn’t. Trust me. The way she talked to her desk clerk, there’s no way he would want someone like that working for him.”
He just nods, and I beam internally that he’s so quick to have confidence in me.
“Come here.” He crooks his finger, urging me forward, but my feet are glued to the floor.
I shake my head. I made a rule, and more than once, okay many, many times, I’ve regretted it. Not having sex when we have so much free time in the evenings was stupid, but we’ve gone this long, I might as well stick with it. I don’t want to look weak. Plus, I don’t want to be weak, and that’s exactly what this man makes me. It’s bad enough that I think about him constantly. Keeping my hands to myself is nearly impossible. Having that access? He’d see just how frantic I am most of the time. We’d be late for work every day, and that’s if I allowed him out of bed to show up at all.
“You sure?”
“I’m sure,” I say, my voice soft.
He flips the covers back, his golden skin missing those tan lines I noticed the first time we were together on full display. His thick, proud cock reaches for his abs with just the right amount of curve that drives me wild no matter what position he puts me in. Knowing I haven’t truly ridden him yet is driving me crazy. I want to know what the burn in my thighs feels like, what his hands on my hips feel like when he’s urging me higher, making me go faster or slowing me down because he’s just as crazed as I am when we’re together that way.
“Still sure?”
I shake my head, my body’s answer not matching my words. “I have to pack.”
“We have six hours until we have to head to the airport.”
“I feel dirty,” I tell him, my eyes locked on his magnificent cock.
“I’ll lick you clean.”
I huff, meeting his eyes. “I hate the way that woman made me feel.
“We can just watch a little TV,” he offers, pulling the sheets back up to cover his lower half.
This isn’t something that we do. We haven’t talked about that part, but it’s one of those unspoken things that goes along with two people who are only hooking up. That’s part of being in a relationship and neither one of us is interested in crossing those lines.
Even knowing I shouldn’t, I tell him this. “We don’t do the cuddle thing.”
“We could try.” He shrugs. “It could be fun.”
He looks away from me, and I can’t get a good read on him. Is he regretting his words or feeling a little exposed? I honestly can’t tell, and for some reason that makes me feel a little dirty too, and not in a good way.
