Page 37 of His Little Stowaway

Pearce’s legs are under mine, his feet tucked up under my arms, tickling the sides of my breasts with his legs whenever he thinks I’m napping as he talks about the house.

He tells me its rich history, about the original owners, and more about how he spent so much of his own time and energy in restoring it.

“I had you pegged for a real suit,” I confess.

“You can wear my shirts anytime you like, by the way,” he says, making me smile and deciding I might just take him up on that.

“And your cologne?” I ask, recalling the best part of Pearce’s shirts, apart from whenever he’s inside one of them.

“That might be pushing it,” he laughs, but he even agrees to that after thinking about it for a moment.

“Whatever you want, Brynn. I mean it. It’s yours,” he reminds me again. Drawing my eyes to his intense ones. The look of a man who knows what he wants and finally has it.

With no need for anything else except my happiness, it seems.

I sigh loudly, shamelessly enjoying what really has turned out to be the best day of my life.

“Do you need any help with dinner?” I ask, betraying my innocence because I know Pearce well enough by now to figure he has dinner ready to go as well as having run a bath. Spoiling me every step of the way.

He smiles to himself, letting me know that all I have to do is soak and relax.

“I might have some business to attend to after dinner, but not for long,” he forewarns me. Making me pout.

Not a bratty insecure pout, but the pout of a woman who knows what she wants might be unavailable for even just a little while.

“I could do the dishes,” I offer, suddenly noticing the little clumps of red under my nails.

Pearce catches my expression and makes a face, turning a little so I can see.

“Me?” I ask, horrified when I see he’s wearing my claw marks like a badge of honor.

“I wouldn’t have been satisfied unless you drew a little blood yourself,” he jokes, wincing again once the hot water touches his deep scratch marks.

“I hope they leave a scar,” he growls intently. His eyes glow like a beasts as he slides his hands under the water, making me squeal until we’re both laughing.

“So, nobody’s here and we’re all alone out in the countryside?” I ask, double-checking I really can get around in nothing but his shirt.

I know how Pearce would probably react if anyone saw me unless I was fully dressed.

It wouldn’t be a very good day for anyone.

“It’s just us, and yeah. About thirteen miles ‘til the nearest neighbor or town,” he adds smiling.

“A girl could scream her head off and nobody would hear a thing,” I remark. Glad when he agrees.

“I’d hear,” Pearce informs me.

His shining eyes tell me that he hears a lot of things. That his favorite new sound might just be me screaming his name as I come on his fat cock.

Chapter Twenty

Pearce

Brynn soaks up the last of the hot water and I set to work on grilling us both some huge steaks with a side of salad and vegetables that the kitchen is always so full of every time I come here.

I’m sure the staff must live a pretty good life when I’m not around, but the way they keep the place? They’ve earned it.

Mack’s words echo in my mind. About the security team, I fired in anger.

‘…they thought it was you in danger.’

I stew on that thought, making sure not to burn the steaks as I get lost in the problem of whether to reverse my decision or not.

I’m a stickler when it comes to making decisions. Once I make ‘em I have to stand by them.

I was pissed at the way they treated Brynn. If it had been anyone else I realize I wouldn’t have batted an eyelid.

Is that worth ruining their Christmas, the lives of half a dozen good men and their families?

I mouth the answer quietly to myself. Knowing I’ll have one more call to make after dinner.

I hope I’m not too late to make it right with those guys.

Super spy Barbie and Mike Whitman? That’s a different story. They’ll be looking at jail time if I have my way.

Making the boss mad is one thing, but actively planning to overthrow your boss and trusted business partner is something else entirely.

I set the steaks aside to rest as I feel Brynn’s warm arms hook around my naked waist. I realize that I’m lucky the steaks are the only meat that got cooked.

“You always cook in the nude?” she asks, letting her hands stray south for a not-so-quick squeeze of what I know she really wants for dinner.

I feel myself stiffen to attention in seconds, and assure her that it’s only on account of her being here that I’m naked.

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