A small, older woman came out of the bathroom with a toilet brush, yelping when she spotted us. “I’m sorry. The front desk said no one would be here until later.”
“We came back early.”
“I just started on the room. I’m so sorry. Had I known you’d be back early, I’d have cleaned this one first.”
I tore my gaze away from Leo’s, barely keeping my smile in check. “It’s okay. We have a lot of work to do. Take your time. Is it okay if we stay while you work? We’ll keep out of your way.”
“No problem at all.”
Leo’s gaze narrowed. His hand wrapped around my arm as I brushed past, letting my fingers graze the large problem he had stuffed into his jeans.
“The payback for this will be repaid between your legs later tonight.” He dropped a kiss on my neck.
I looked at him over my shoulder. “I’m counting on it.”
Trying to focus, I dug into my list of tasks we needed to complete, completely aware of Leo watching my every move. He was the predator and I was the prey, and I was more than happy to tease him and myself for the next seven hours.
I’d never felt like this before. The crazy, can’t-wait-to-rip-your-clothes-off, ready-to-die-happy feeling made my skin tingle and my pussy throb in anticipation.
Tonight would be a night I wouldn’t forget. I’d focus on sexy anticipation instead of everything else turned me into a neurotic mess whenever it was time to run an event. He made me want to forget it and pretend we were a couple—my chest seized and I looked down at the ring on my finger.
Tugging it off, I set it on the desk, staring at the sparkling, shimmering stone.
Leo was the best distraction I’d ever discovered and I couldn’t wait for another taste.
But what happened when we stopped playing pretend?
32
Leo
An insistent buzz pulled me out of sleep. I fumbled around on the nightstand, grabbing my phone.
Hair brushed against my chest. Last night had been the longest foreplay in the history of man. The scavenger hunt had been another killer success. No back-ups at any activity. One team did attempt to cross a stream at one point, but I found them and got them back on course.
Kathleen commended us both and told us we’d have a bigger audience at our presentation on which events we could handle for Winthorpe next quarter. Well, that Simply Stark and Zara could handle next quarter.
Leaving felt wrong, but this wasn’t where I was cut out to be. No matter how high I’d felt yesterday beside her, keeping the day on track. We made a great team, but I’d learned those never lasted forever. It didn’t mean I’d give up before we won the championship ring, though—not with how crazy Zara made me.
We’d barely made it through the door before I was inside her again. Against the wall. On the coffee table. The floor. The bed was the last place we’d made it, with my face buried between her legs. My scalp would need a solid week to recover, but, damn, had it been worth it.
“Who died?” My voice was groggy and laced with sleep.
“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.” Hunter’s mildly amused voice pulled me out of my fog.
“Hey, Hunter, what’s up? Why are you calling so early?”
“It’s eleven am. And I thought I was the night owl.”
I pulled the phone away and checked the time. Shit. We’d need to check out soon.
“It was a late night.”
Zara groaned and snuggled in closer to my side.
I wrapped my arm tighter around her. The weight of her against my chest made getting out of bed seem like an impossibility.
“Since I can hear you’re not alone, I’ll make this quick. You’ve got an interview in two days at Sports Central in New York.”
I shot halfway up before sinking back down and rubbing Zara’s back. “You serious?”
“No, I called you on the phone like a psycho to screw around with you.”
She rolled away, snuggling deeper into the blankets and pillows, leaving a cold spot on my chest.
“What time?”
“Eleven. Try to be awake before noon that day.”
“You did it.” Could Hunter hear the awe in my voice? Because it was there.
“Pulling strings is what I do best. You’re in the door. Now get it over the goal line.”
“I will.”
He ended the call and I sank into the pillows. This was my shot. A Hail Mary pass. In two days, I’d have my chance to get back to the game I loved, even if it was in a different capacity.
Zara flipped over and brushed the hair out of her face. “Morning.” Her voice was rough and sleepy and sexy as fuck. “Who was that?”
“Hunter.”
“Was he trying to get you to smuggle parakeets across the border?”
“No.” The words stalled in my throat. If I told her about the interview and I bombed, it would be another tally mark on the Leo’s a fuck-up score board. “It was a party invite.”
“So early in the morning.” She scrunched up her face in disapproval.
“It’s almost time to check out.”
She shot up, clutching the blankets to her chest. Blowing her hair out of her face, she stretched over me to look at the clock, rubbing her body against me. “I haven’t slept this late in forever. Someone kept me up late.” Her hands brushed along my chest.
My body hummed in anticipation of another taste of her. “Someone brought this on herself with her let the cleaner stay foreplay.”
She bit her bottom lip. “Are you saying it wasn’t worth it?”
I wrapped my arms around her and flipped her over, settling my hips between her spread legs. “I wasn’t the one complaining about sleeping in.”
She looked up at the clock again, a hungry mischief filling her eyes. “It’ll only take us ten minutes to pack.”
“That gives me nearly fifty minutes with you.”
She hitched her legs around my back, digging her heels into my ass. “Yes, it does.”
Insatiable, and I fucking loved it.
I sat in the lobby full of two-story TV screens running last night’s Sports Central prime time broadcast in my suit, Windsor knot, and resume. It was a sparse, sad piece of paper. Barely three lines. Catering server and professional football player were my only qualifications. My degree in communications might win me a point or two. At least I’d graduated. It was more than a lot of guys could say.
The train was easier than driving. No traffic or parking to contend with. I could plan everything out and I’d be back in Philly to meet up with Zara and complete more work on our final presentation with time to spare.
With all the information from our two events and the Oren & Co. bomb, we could pitch something that would keep everyone coming back for more. Maybe make the Simply Stark and Easton Events collaboration a permanent thing. At least until there was enough money for Sam to bring her on full time. We could…what the hell was I talking about? We couldn’t do anything. The whole reason—
“Leo Wilder.” A man in a gray suit walked into the reception area and grabbed my hand, pumping it up and down enthusiastically. “Killer name. I’m Charles.”