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“Can’t we stay in bed for a bit more?”
“No, Gwyneth. We have work and you still haven't finished the workload I gave you yesterday.”
“Dictator,” she mutters under her breath.
“What did you just call me?”
She crosses her arms over her chest, squeezing her tits and accentuating them. “You’re a dictator, Nate. An impossible one.”
“Come down. You have fifteen minutes.”
“And if I don’t?”
“You don’t want to know. Behave.”
Her lips part at that, and I leave the room before I grab her and fuck her while she’s still sore.
I go to my room, and after I take a shower and put on my clothes, I go to fix breakfast. Martha gives me a look when she sees me. She’s probably figured things out about us, but she doesn’t say anything.
King knows how to hire staff who know not to meddle in affairs that are none of their business.
She offers to help me and I tell her I can take care of it, so she leaves to carry out her other chores.
By the time Gwyneth comes to the kitchen, I’m almost done.
“Sit down,” I tell her without turning around. “I’ll be finished in a bit.”
Her arms wrap around my waist from behind and she rests her chin on my back.
I pause frying the eggs. “What are you doing?”
“Hugging you because you look sexy as hell preparing breakfast in your suit and apron.”
Two polar opposite feelings slash through me at the same time. One is pride and a weird sense of joy I’ve never experienced before. But the other is red fucking alerts.
I might have miscalculated something.
Like Gwyneth’s habit of staking her claim on everything whenever she goes after something.
And I need to make sure that’s not the case here. That no “all in” is involved.
I turn off the stove and face her. “Are you having inappropriate thoughts about me?”
“Yeah, it’s a problem.”
“Only inappropriate thoughts, right?”
A delicate frown appears between her brows. “What do you mean?”
“Are there feelings involved that I should know about?”
“No,” she says quickly, without thinking, and something shreds in my fucking chest. That’s the answer I wanted to hear. So why the fuck do I want to grab her by the shoulders and shake her?
“Good, because I don’t do that.”
“You don’t do feelings or you don’t do attachment?”
“Both, and you know that.”
