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26
Tuesday
“You’re not going to let us celebrate?” I sigh, my excitement deflating from my chest. I want to do this for him. It’s small compared to what he’s done for me, but I’ll take any opportunity to celebrate this man, and this accomplishment is a doozy.
“No. We don’t need to. It’s no big deal.” He barely glances up after he sets the bottle of bourbon down on the counter in the kitchen.
We got home hours ago and settled in just as the storm blew through the city. Snow falls outside the windows, but we’re cozy in here. But I’ll tell you, he makes it hard to concentrate standing there shirtless.
I decide the only way to convince him to let me throw a party is to plead my case. “I think we do. You’re now a partner at the law firm. That’s a very big deal. Every letterhead, the sign on the building, the gold sign when you exit the elevator, the business cards . . .” I throw my arms in the air. “It all has to be updated to Westcott & Westcott Law Firm. That is huge, Loch.”
Setting the glass down after sipping it with more enthusiasm for the bourbon than my argument, he leans against the counter, and says, “People will say my dad gave me the partnership because I’m his son.”
“Fuck those people.”
“I’d rather fuck you, and since when did you start swearing?”
“It’s your favorite word. I figured my swearing puts us one step closer to becoming one and the same person. Eventually, we’ll wear matching Hawaiian shirts in Waikiki and finish each other’s sentences without even noticing.”
“Couple goals.”
I laugh. “I tried really hard to make that sound unappealing, too. Who knew you were so into retirement leisurewear.”
“Your first problem is that nothing about you is unappealing.” I come around the bar and latch onto his sexy body. His black sleep pants hang low enough for me to appreciate that deep V on display.
“You’re so sweet. What’s my second problem?” I ask, hoping he’s saved the best for last after that goodness.
His hands, cold from the glass, slip under my T-shirt in the back, making me jump. He holds me tight, and the heat between us overpowers the cold. Sliding even lower under the hem of the boxer shorts, he gets two good handfuls of my ass and presses me against his hardness. “Your second problem is that you’re irresistible.”
He leans down to kiss me, but I shove my hands against him. “Wait. Tell me I can plan a party to celebrate. Please, Loch. Not only will it make me so happy to do this for you but I need something to do. I need to use my brain constructively.”
Eyeing, I see the moment he gives in—the corners of his eyes softening to me. His grip holds firm, though. “You can plan a party. But I get you in the bedroom in five minutes.”
“I’ll accept these terms, counselor, but on one condition.”
“Which is?”
“I get to choose the first position.”
A wry grin twitches on the right side of his mouth, and he replies, “You’ve got yourself a deal.” We seal the deal with a kiss.
With his hands still holding my ass, I say, “You drive a hard bargain.”
“Get your ass in that bedroom so I can show you just how hard I drive.”
I start for the bedroom, not needing to be told twice, but stop at the far side of the living room and turn back. “Hey, Loch?”
Despite the naughty talk, his love for me shines in his eyes even across the dimly lit room. “Yes?”
“Congratulations. I’m proud of you.”
His smile goes from bad boy businessman to the hot guy who lives next door, causing my stomach to flutter. “Thank you.”
This is what utter and complete happiness feels like. With a grin that refuses to be wiped away, I go into the bedroom, ready to show him a few skills of my own.
I leave the blinds open but light a candle I bought for my nightstand. The candlelight gives such a dreamy glow to the room. But this is not where I want to begin our night. It’s where I want to end it.
Moving into the bathroom, I turn on the hot water in the tub and then light three candles I found in his hall closet last week. They’re probably gifts from another woman, judging by the orange and pomegranate scent. I hate that my chest aches in jealousy. Loch had a life I have no knowledge of as much as we aren’t privy to mine. Who are these women buying candles for him, or are they just trying to leave their mark on the place? I’m just going to literally burn those thoughts away.
I’m not surprised Loch doesn’t own bubble bath, so I squeeze shampoo into the tub instead, which foams up quickly. I strip off my clothes and try to figure out where to wait for him—on the counter, in the tub, across the floor?
