Nick took full advantage and lowered me to the bed, regaining the top position. He took over, lifting one of my legs and pushing in deeper and deeper still. In a matter of thrusts, we were both lost to the bliss that rocked through us from the place where we were joined. Like a shout into the void, it echoed on and on and on.
Nick rolled onto his side and pulled me up against him, locking me in place with his arms, while he placed kisses on my hair. This time, I was certain I would never be able to string a full sentence together again. Neither of us spoke for a long while.
“So that’s a yes,” he said.
“Yes, what?” I murmured, still wrecked.
“The evidence clearly suggests an orgasm can make you stupid as fuck,” he said. He ran a hand over his face. “What’s my name? Where do I live?”
I laughed out loud, delighted that he felt the same way I did. He laughed, too, and in that moment I felt as if we’d achieved a perfect connection. Impulsive and reckless, I might be, but I believed he was worth it.
19
He didn’t spend the night. I was all right with that. Tonight had taken an unexpected turn, and I knew we were both processing.
Besides, not spending the night in this case was really him leaving me after we fell asleep together for a few hours and then woke up to that delightful half-awake sex, you know, when you’re barely conscious but your body has very specific demands that need to be met.
We dozed after that with me splayed across him like I was a blanket. I wanted his heat, his strength, his comforting presence. I slept the sleep of an innocent child when there’d been nothing innocent about our time together.
And then when the sky was murky, not yet sunrise but no longer night, he kissed me long and deep and tucked me in. He tucked me in! He pulled the blanket over my shoulders, making certain none of the night’s chilly air could reach my skin. His fingers lingered on my body with a tenderness I’d never received from a lover before. Then he planted a kiss on my head and quietly slipped away.
I wanted to call him back, but I didn’t. Given his rules and boundaries, I was going to have to take my cues from him. Besides, today was the day that I introduced Lexi as my big client to Miguel and Sophie so I needed to have my game face on. You’d think this would have given me at least a mild case of insomnia. Nope. I fell into the sleep of the utterly sated and naturally overslept. Way overslept.
* * *
Late. Later. Latest. That was me. I downed the scalding coffee. It burned. I spit it out, not sure I’d ever have feeling on the roof of my mouth again. I ran in and out of my shower, barely getting wet. I yanked on a long navy dress, brown ankle boots, and a floral scarf with the same blue and brown and some sassy pink tones. I threw my mascara and lip gloss into my shoulder bag to put on at the office, twisted my hair up into a ball on the top of my head, and ran for the door.
I yanked the door open and found a note. The blocky handwriting told me right away who it was. Nick. I pulled it off the door, feeling my heart flutter in my chest. I wanted to rip it open right there, but—shit!—I was so late. I stuffed it into my bag and made a run for it.
I wondered as I was dashing to the gate if Nick was watching me from the house. If he was, he was probably laughing his butt off at me, knowing that this was his fault, having worn me out the night before. I could just picture him, his chest puffing up with male pride. As I skidded past the keypad, where I knew there was a security camera, I paused to stick my tongue out, then I grinned before breaking back into a run.
A glance at my phone while waiting for the crosswalk light to change and I saw I was almost an hour late. An hour? This was a new personal best for me. I tried not to freak out. Soph was always pretty chill about my tendency to be late, but at this rate I’d be lucky to get there before Lexi. I pulled out my phone to see if there were any messages from her. There was nothing. Maybe I was okay.
I dashed across the street and rushed into the building. I strode across the rose quartz floor, waving to the security guards, Curtis and Hector, as I passed by.
“Morning, Annabelle,” Hector called. He was ninety if he was a minute, and he reminded me of a peanut in the shell with his bald, wrinkled head and big ears. His grin was brilliant, however, and it managed to light up the lobby.
“Buenos día, mis amigos,” I called. Hector had been coaching me with my Spanish, and his grin widened at my effort, which I’m sure was terrible but he seemed pleased. Curtis, who never spoke, waved. He didn’t have to speak. He was young and had the solid build of an armored car. No one messed with Curtis.
“Pasa buen día,” Hector called after me.
The elevator doors opened and I ducked inside. I turned and hit the button for the fifth floor, moving aside for the person I felt stepping in behind me.
“Late again, Annabelle? Tsk tsk tsk. I’ve already had two meetings this morning while you’re sprinting in an hour late. What will the bosses say?”
Crap. Of course it was Carson who stepped in behind me. Sadly, no one else did, leaving me to ride all the way up to the fifth floor trapped with him.
“You really don’t seem to value this job very much,” he said.
I ignored him. Bullies hate that. I pretended to be looking for something in my bag. I was doing such a good job, I missed it when he put his hand on the wall behind my shoulder and leaned in, forcing me back.
“You’re going to fail probation,” he said. “You’re always late, you forget clients and accounts. Face it, your work is subpar and you’re not cut out to be creative director.” His eyes had a mean glint in them. “And you lied about bringing in a major new client, admit it.”
Don’t show any emotion. Don’t show any emotion. I repeated the words in my head like a mantra. I just had to get to the fifth floor, so I could get away from him. He reeked of a high-end cologne, the sort that suffocated, and his shiny shoes, creased slacks, and crisp shirt all sported designer labels as if he needed the names of others to assert his own worth.
“Well? Nothing to say for yourself?” he taunted.
I kept my face bland and pretended I just noticed his presence. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”
A derisive smile crossed his lips. Then he leaned in, crowding me but not touching me. He lowered his mouth to my ear and hissed, “Bitch.”
I don’t intimidate easily, but I’d be lying if I said that the hate pouring off of him didn’t rattle me. I was the ultimate pleaser, everyone liked me, but not this guy. The urge to lift my knee in a sudden defensive strike almost overrode all common sense. Carson West was a weak man, and I had no doubt that he’d charge me with assault, especially because it would get me fired and he’d finally get the office that he felt was his.