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Oh my God, I’m going to pass out.
“What about everybody else in the office?” I ask.
He runs the pad of his thumb across my lower lip. “The rest of the staff doesn’t need to know about my private life. We’ll be discreet in the office. I’m not going to send a mass email letting everyone know my relationship status has changed.”
I bat my eyelashes at him. “Relationship status?”
“Yes. If we’re dating, that implies you’re my girlfriend.”
I’m dead.
Chapter 40
Beckett
The doorbell rings.
She’s here!
Since Arianne doesn’t have wheels, I hired a car for her.
I drop the bottle of Italian red on the dining room table and eat up the floor underneath me on my way to the door. Eager to see her again, I fling it open.
All the blood in my brain travels south so fast, I falter back.
A ray of sunshine greets me.
Arianne’s brown eyes sparkle and her sunny smile dazzles against the darkening sky as the sun sets behind her.
I give her an appreciative onceover. Her hair is now up in a messy updo with loose strands flirting against her cheeks. Her makeup is as subtle as it was earlier. She’s wearing a vampy, off-shoulder dress with a frill ruffle running at the front that hits her right above the knee in a light shade of yellow that displays her tempting slender curves to perfection. She completes the look with a pair of open-toe high heels in gold.
My cock twitches in approval.
“The plan was for us to have dinner before I have my way with you, but you’re making it hard in that dress,” I say in lieu of a greeting. “You look like my naughty dreams come true.”
This newfound monogamy thing is unheard of for a guy like me. Lo and behold Rhys’s scheme changed me. Arianne is the only woman I’ve been with in a while and she’s the only woman I want to be with. I’m used to scratching an itch and responding to my basic carnal needs without a second thought. My cock usually does all the thinking. Not since this woman walked into my life.
No-strings-attached-Beckett is now attached.
Un-freaking-believable.
I fucked her on Sunday morning before leaving Germany, since then I’ve been horny as hell. Her looking as good as she does now doesn’t help my case.
She works her lower lip.
Those mischievous eyes tell the whole story.
“This was planned,” I say. “You didn’t show up here looking like a goddess by mistake.”
“I wanted to look pretty for our first date.”
I give her another onceover.
“Sorry, cupcake, you failed miserably. Forget about pretty. You look fucking hot!”
She beams.
No more sedate business suits for my girl. I’ll never admit it, but I sometimes miss obsessing about what she’s hiding underneath her armor.
