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“Which could continue running with you as a consultant.”
“Don’t make decisions for me.”
The firmness in the way she says it brings me up short. “You’re right. But it’s something worth considering.”
“I love my work,” she insists. “And I doubt there’d be enough here to keep me busy on a full-time basis.”
“Who knows?” I probably shouldn’t, but I can’t help lifting a shoulder. “I could screw up again and make a lot more work for you.”
“Please,” she warns. “This is a big deal. I need you to understand how important it is for me to make my own choices.”
“Fair enough. But you can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“Besides.” She straightens up, then folds her arms. “I don’t have to take crappy jobs anymore. My last client paid too much, so I can afford to be choosy.”
“Very cute.”
“Okay, okay.” She moves slowly, creeping toward me while fighting back a grin. “I guess, if I had to, I could work remotely—whether I’m here or at the office in New York. I could handle both.”
A spark of hope flares to lift in my chest. Incredible, the way my life hinges on this woman. Her presence, her smell, her touch. “You think so?”
“It helps that I know a guy who happens to own a helicopter I can take back and forth whenever I want to.” Finally, she drops the act, laughing as she steps into the circle of my arms. This is where she belongs, close to me, standing on tiptoe for a kiss that only leads to another kiss, then another.
“Okay,” she agrees while I skim her jaw with my lips. “I accept, so long as you can accept my having other clients.”
“So long as none of those clients are men. I might have to accidentally-on-purpose cause another scandal to keep all of your attention for myself.”
“You would have to go and say something like that. I swear, if you do anything of the sort—”
“You know I’m only kidding,” I insist while she tries to squirm her way out of my embrace.
“I don’t know any such thing, Sawyer Cargill.”
“What? Your opinion of me is that low?”
She pauses for a beat before frowning. “No comment.”
“I love you,” I finally laugh, pulling her close again. “I do. I love your refusal to take shit from me. I love how you always think you’re right.”
“I am always right,” she grumbles. “Well, almost always.”
“When were you wrong?”
She reaches up to run a hand over my cheek. “When I assumed you hadn’t changed. When I was sure I knew the real you. And now that I think about it, there’s something left unspoken between us.”
I have to brace myself before asking, “What’s that?”
“I love you, too.”
It’s inevitable, the way we’re drawn together. She tips her head back and I practically devour her plump, sweet mouth. The only woman I’ll ever kiss again. The only woman I’ll ever want to kiss again.
Her fingers tangle in my hair before the hunger that naturally springs to life between us leaves us both panting, and she offers no resistance before I back her against the desk and part her legs with one of mine.
“We should find someplace a little more discreet,” she whispers before whimpering at the touch of my fingers against her inner thigh. “What happens if somebody walks in?”
“Oh, no,” I whisper, creeping higher until the enticing heat coming from her mound makes me groan in helpless desire. “That would be a PR nightmare. You’d have to work overtime to clean up a mess that big.”
“Keep it up with the jokes,” she warns before moaning softly, bearing down on my hand and rocking her hips. “We’ll see how much further this goes."
When our eyes meet and she lifts an eyebrow in a silent challenge, I know one thing for sure: this maddening woman was made for me.
And I could happily spend the rest of my life being put in my place… so long as she’s the one doing it.
“Have I mentioned the dressing room behind that wall?” I ask, tipping my head in the direction of the hidden door. “And the bed inside?”
Her wicked grin is fuel poured over the fire of my endless need for her. “See? I knew we could come to a compromise.”
“What can I say?” I take her hand, leading the way. “I’m highly motivated.”
* * *
