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I huff a laugh, my breath forming a wet spot on her hotel room door.
I look down at my watch, noting the time I realize I’ve turned into a stage-five clinger.
Chapter 26
Leighton
Gaige: Wear a sundress. I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my hands off of your skin all damn day.
I stare down at the text message on my phone. I’ve looked at the damn thing a hundred times. The first time I saw it when I woke up this morning, I wanted to throw the damn thing at the wall.
I hadn’t heard from him since I got out of the hired car on Thursday afternoon.
Well, that’s not true. I got an email late Thursday night from him, informing me that Deacon was giving everyone Friday off. It was business-like, impersonal.
Our weekend started a day early, and the asshole sends a fucking email.
Thursday morning after I got back from Sandra Halen’s office, he was begging me to crawl into bed with him. Conversation on the plane was normal, and then something changed. By the time we got in the car to ride back to the hotel, he couldn’t even meet my eyes. At the time, I was grateful for the quiet. I had a million things rolling through my head. It was one thing for Gaige to not care how I acted at Sandra’s office, but Gaige doesn’t run BBS. Deacon does. Plus, another week was drawing to a close without any success. I’ve had unsuccessful weeks before. It’s nothing new for me, but I was never afraid I’d lose my job because of it. Dad would give me a pep talk and tell me that it happens.
“Can’t win them all,” he’d tell me.
Deacon isn’t Dad, and he will fire me. When I got that email notification, I just knew that’s what was happening, and of course it would be Gaige who did it.
I had the day off. Then I didn’t hear from him all day. He didn’t show up with his cock in his hand. He didn’t text and tell me to meet him in the bar or at Paragon. I heard nothing. Then this damn text. He sent it early, a second one coming, notifying me that I needed to be ready at eleven. What kind of damn function starts so damn early in the day?
I’ve thought more than once about messaging and canceling. He didn’t even mention the damn function when he stayed in the car when I got dropped off, but I made a deal, although I regretted it the second I stepped into that office and saw how Sandra treated her staff.
I’ll hold up my end of the bargain, and I’ll wear a damn sundress. I’ll even let the man touch me if he wants because I’m not a fool. He has skilled fingers, a tongue that works me over like an expert, and I’m aching for him, but I won’t be completely happy about it. Plus, it could be the last chance I get. Come Monday morning, I could have that email I expect to get, the one telling me BBS will no longer be needing my services.
I rush to get ready, already wasting too much time trying to decide if I’m going to cancel to spend much time on my hair. I leave it down and pull on sandals. If the dress code is casual enough for a sundress, then I want to be in comfortable shoes, anticipating a full day event since it’s starting so early.
The knock comes sooner than I expect, considering I anticipated a text saying he was downstairs since I never gave him my room number. I’m sure I have Wren Nelson to thank for Gaige having this little piece of information.
I bite the inside of my cheek when I open the door and see him standing there in a pale blue polo, khaki shorts, and Sperry shoes. A chuckle escapes my mouth.
“You look like a frat douche.”
His eyes roam my body from my sandals to the dark waves over my shoulders. “And you look like a fucking mid-morning snack.”
I feel a little guilty for speaking my mind, but in the next second, we’re both inside the room, and he’s carrying me to the bed. I’m on my back with my dress shoved up around my waist and his hot mouth on my inner thigh.
“I came by Thursday night,” he says against my skin, and I know he’s keeping his mouth away from where my body needs him the most on purpose. “You didn’t answer the door.”
“Bath,” I manage. “AirPods. Mmm.”
He sounds a little jealous, like he’s fishing for information, and I’ll fucking tell him anything if he just moves that talented tongue three inches to the left. He rewards my confession by brushing the tip of his nose over my panties, nudging my clit.
