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I clear my throat and stare at her.
“Are you hungry?” she asks. “I’m going to send these proofs to the printer and grab some food. Want to come?”
I shake my head, no. “I’ll just get takeout. Probably take a bath and go to bed early.”
“If you change your mind—
“I’ll text you. Goodnight, Delia.” I practically run out of my office and speed to the Italian place down the road. Marco’s has the best spaghetti and meatballs in town, and I know Rowan can’t get that at the Yacht Club. I get two orders, salad, and cheesecake, and race to the club to see if he’s available, filled by the urge to surprise him. If he’s not, at least, I’ll have killer leftovers.
I breeze past everyone at the front of the house—thankfully, they all know me—and head straight to his office. A gentle knock, and he calls out, “Come in.”
Something flexes deep inside when he says that word.
I crack the door and find he’s alone with his laptop. His eyes light up when he sees me. “Hey. I wasn’t expecting a visit. Did we have something on the book?”
“No.” I walk in and flash the bags from Marco’s. “Thought I’d surprise you. You have been so busy lately. If you have the time for a quick dinner—
“It’s Marco’s. I will make the time.” He closes his laptop and reaches out greedily for the bag. We lay out the spread and dig in. “So, is this just because I’ve been busy, or are you trying to butter me up for something?”
I giggle. “You’re the busiest man I know. You deserve a treat.”
“And by treat, you mean…?”
“There’s a cheesecake in the bag.”
He pauses the destruction of his spaghetti and meatballs. “You are a goddess.”
I laugh again. “You know, it would be kinda cool to be the goddess of cheesecake.”
He laughs. “Now that’s a goddess I could get behind.”
Closing my eyes, I try not to think of him behind me. Halfway into my plate, he smirks.
“What?” I ask.
“Given the time I got in trouble for not telling you about sauce on your blouse, I believe I am obligated to tell you about something on your chin.”
I roll my eyes and wipe my chin with my napkin before continuing on my meal.
“You missed.”
I huff and try again. “Now?”
“Just come here,” he says.
I lean forward and when Rowan touches my chin, a shiver shoots through me. His thumb wipes over my chin, but his fingertips rest on my neck. There’s a strange look in his eyes. As I sit back in my chair, his hand hooks around the back of my head and pulls me to him. My breath catches in my chest as Rowan kisses me.
The world holds its breath when we pull back and look at each other. Panting. Dizzy. Yearning.
On the second kiss, we crash our lips together. His mouth takes mine, each kiss more consuming than the last. What are we doing? Is this the top of the slide? Are we daring each other to go down it?
Rowan doesn’t break our kiss to sweep his arm across the desk, but the sound of tumbling food containers, papers, and a laptop startles me. For once in his button-up life, he’s unhinged. He comes around the desk and picks me up, setting me on top of it.
I wrap my legs around him to pull him close and he kisses down my neck. Rowan Cargill is kissing my neck. What the fuck? But I’m not stopping. Not for anything.
Is the door locked? When he bites my neck, I no longer care if the door is locked. And I kinda like the idea of getting caught. Oh, my god. He’s making my fantasy come true.
I surrender to it all. When he cups my breasts, I groan out loud. He murmurs, “I love when you make that sound,” as he tugs at my top, pulling it over my head. Staring appreciatively for a flash, he gets back to work. Random thoughts pour in.Has Rowan ever seen one of my bras? Definitely not with me in it.
