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I shake my head. “I’m just feeling emotional.”
“I can deal with emotions.” He kisses away my tears then kisses my lips again. “Tell me how you feel.”
“Sated. Overwhelmed. Scared…”
“Always scared.” He looks almost sad. “We’re gonna have to work on that one.” He gently pulls out of me, holding the condom in place. “I’ll be back,” he tells me, climbing off the bed and disappearing into the bathroom. When he comes back I’ve already burrowed beneath the sheets because I feel too exposed.
“Come here,” he whispers, climbing in next to me. He pulls me against him so my face is on his chest. “There’s no need to be scared,” he tells me. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He kisses the top of my head and it so sweet the tears threaten again. “I’m going to take care of you. I wasn’t lying when I told you that you’re mine. You think I’m going to hurt something that belongs to me? It’d be like hurting myself.”
I look up at him. There’s so much sincerity in his voice, in his face. And I think I fall a little more. “Thank you,” I whisper, because this man seems to understand me.
“I’m the one who should thank you.” He strokes my hair tenderly, “Now go to sleep. You look exhausted.”
“You’re the one who has to catch a plane at a stupid time in the morning.”
He gives me the softest of smiles. “I don’t care. It was worth it to sleep with you in my arms.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
LIAM
The next week I walk out of the shiny skyscraper that houses Salinger Enterprises and into the humid New York evening. It’s almost too warm to be walking outside, but I can’t be bothered to take a car to the restaurant where I’ve arranged to meet Eli and Holden. It’s only a few blocks and I can call Sophie as I walk.
We’ve spent the last week together, even if it’s mostly been virtual. We’ve also gotten to season three ofGrey’s Anatomy, but don’t ask me what’s happened because I have no damn idea. I’m too busy staring at her.
Or telling her to touch herself.
She’s fucking mesmerizing and I feel like I’m walking around with a permanent hard-on just thinking about her.
“Hi,” she says as she picks up after the third ring. “Are you going to keep calling me every two hours forever?” She sounds happy and I like that.
“Yep,” I tell her, because she needs to get used to me. “How was your day?”
“Long. But I’m home now, so…”
“What are you doing? I ask, picturing her apartment. I liked it a lot. It was like Sophie in real estate form. Pretty yet classic, and completely comfortable to be inside.
My mouth twitches at the memory of her clenching around me. We woke up twice more that first night. Or more specifically, I kind of woke her up because I couldn’t stop touching her. It’s a burden I have to carry.
But each time she’d pull me to her and we’d make love. The first time she lay on top of me, her body lazily sliding over mine. I think I came harder than I ever have in my life.
The second time she insisted on blowing me first. Her warm mouth was velvety and welcoming.
And this is how it ends. Death by orgasm. Or more specifically, death by Sophie West. And you know what? I’m okay with that.
“I’m cooking dinner and making those changes we talked about on the report,” she tells me, bringing me out of my sex-induced memories. “Thank you for looking it over again.”
She’s been working on it for a week. I’m impressed by her diligence. And I showed her so over the weekend when I got down on my knees and worshipped her as she worked.
I’d gotten her to send it to me this morning and spent most of my flight marking up pieces that I thought could be tightened up. At first I was worried she’d be insulted by me changing her wording around but she couldn’t be happier.
And that makes me happy.
“You think you’ll make your deadline?” I ask her.
“Yes,” she says cheerily. “I’ll be able to send it over tomorrow afternoon. Then I can relax. At least it’ll get Michael off my back.”
I try not to let out a growl because I dislike that guy a lot. “We can celebrate over the weekend, You’re still coming to Misty Lakes, right?”
