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“No.”
“Fuck.” I growl thinking about my sweatpants resting against her pretty cunt. “I wishyouwere here.”
“So…I know we have to leave early Wednesday.” She clears her throat. “Maybe I should stay over Tuesday night?”
“Yes,” I answer immediately. “I’ll send you the codes to get into my house so you can come over right from work. I’ll probably be working a little late.”
“Oh, I can wait until you get home—”
“No. Come here,” I interrupt her. “It’ll keep me focused knowing you’ll be here when I get home.”
“Okay.” And I can hear the smile in her voice. “I’ll probably go home first to drop off my car and take an Uber.”
“I’ll send a car to pick you up.”
“That’s not necessary,” she argues.
“It’s very necessary. You’d expense an Uber anyway, why wouldn’t I send a car with a driver I actually know and trust?”
“You’re very bossy,” she says. “I think you’re bossier now than you were before.”
“You can boss me around too, you know,” I tell her.
“Oh?”
I’m sitting on the couch in my room that Raegan and I somehow managed to sixty-nine on and I smile at the memory. “I recall you being quite bossy in bed if I recall.”
“I am not!” She says and I can almost see the smirk on those full lips because she knows she is.
“Come to my office when you get in tomorrow,” I tell her, switching the conversation to what I really want to talk about, which is how soon can I see her face.
“Wes, we need to be somewhat professional.”
A smile pulls at my lips. “Well, you can bring me a coffee if you’d like.”
“Are you ordering me to bring you a coffee?” I hear the cheekiness in her voice.
“If that’s the only way to get you into my office first thing tomorrow, then yes.”
“Fine. Coffee tomorrow, but you need to behave.”
We’ll see.
The light knocking on my office door already makes me feel better after the shitshow that’s been the last hour. It is barely eight in the morning and I’ve already been successfully pissed off more than once. “Come in,” I call out and it takes a few moments for my entire body to register that Raegan is not walking through the door.What the fuck?
In walks Nigel Samuels, this annoying fucker from marketing who is always trying to get me to attend more events.
“Hi,Mr. Beckham.”For the love of God, I am not in the mood.“I’m just here to go over your itinerary for Miami.”
“Must we do this now?” I shoot him a look I know he’s more than familiar with.
“Yes,” he says and I’ll admit, though he annoys the shit out of me, he’s one of few people that stands up to me. It’s impressive even if he is irritating as hell. “You need to go to at least one of the events I sent. I also heard you’re going down on Wednesday now? There’s something that night—”
“No,” I tell him because the only thing I plan on doing Wednesday night is eating Raegan’s pussy.
“It’s just a gallery opening. Super lowkey, you can be in and out,” he says without looking up from his iPad. “They’re a decent client, Wes.”
I think about it, wondering if maybe it’s something Raegan would want to do with me.
