Page 40 of Business Casual
She blinks at me, her eyes heavy. “It does.”
“Little ones.”
A smile curls the edge of her mouth. “Yep.”
“What else, Nova?”
“What else…has butterflies?”
Christ. Now I’m imagining tiny butterflies on her underwear too. Maybe the tops of those thigh-high-tight-sock-things she’s wearing. “No. What other rules do you want to discuss?”
“I don’t know, the rules were for you.”
I nod and drag my palm against my jaw. “Okay. Let’s make it easy.”
I stand and the chair tips over behind me. I plant both of my hands on the table by her hips and lean forward until my forehead is pressed to hers. She grabs my arms and the jar of peanut butter rolls off the table. After all of our half touches, this feels like jumping into the deep end. Swinging from the edge of a rope and flipping head over heels into crystal clear water.
I gently grab her face with my hand, holding her steady. I trace my thumb over her bottom lip. “I’ll take care of you. You’ll take care ofme. We’ll do what feels good, and if you get uncomfortable, you let me know. We don’t need rules for that.”
She nods and her nose brushes against mine. “Okay.”
“Okay,” I repeat. “I do want one thing though.”
She smiles, her mouth a millimeter away from mine. “I want more than one thing.”
A laugh slips out of me. Yeah, I do too. But I want this one thing more than I want all my fantasies combined. It’s not worth it to me otherwise. “You’ll talk to me tomorrow. You won’t hide from me. I refuse to be a regret, Nova.”
She leans back slightly, just far enough so that her eyes can peer up into mine. Understanding flashes there. “Of course I’ll talk to you. We’ll still be friends tomorrow. This is one night. We’ll get it out of our systems and everything will go back to normal, yeah?”
Relief is a swift undercurrent to the anticipation making my skin feel hot. I slip my hands beneath her thighs and lift. She makes a cute little squeak and wraps herself around me.
“Good. Let’s go.”
10
NOVA
Charlie scoops meoff the kitchen table like a stack of mail, both of his big hands under my thighs, squeezing just shy of too tight. His eyes dart between the hallway and the oversized sectional that takes up a majority of my living room, jaw clenched.
“Bedroom or couch?” he asks.
I shrug and sift my fingers through the hair at the back of his head, nails scratching. His big body tenses and then releases beneath me. The couch has its benefits—proximity being one—but I want room to move. I want to spread out against my buttery soft sheets and feel his weight tucking me down into my mattress.
“Bedroom,” I answer, like he’s not already moving in the direction of the stairs. He kicks off his boots at the bottom with enthusiasm, one hitting the edge of my couch, the other tipped sideways. But he doesn’t care, too focused on powering us up the steps, the hands on my thighs shifting until he has my bare ass cupped in his palms, fingers squeezing every other step like he can’t quite help himself.
“What kind of underwear are you wearing?” he grits out, sounding furious. His socked feet move faster up the stairs, and his fingers go searching until he finds the thin lace band at my hips. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters.
I expected this part to feel weird. Something about being too familiar and knowing the details of him—like how he eats his breakfastpastries in three giant bites. Or how he color codes his spreadsheets at fifty percent opacity. I don’t think I’ve ever known the spreadsheet preferences of a bedroom partner before.
But it’s good. It feels good to be wrapped around him like a vine. Better than good when I feel the press of Charlie’s hard cock between my thighs. He’s thick and big and hitting me exactly right on every step up, and we haven’t even started yet. I curl my hands around his shoulders for leverage and roll my hips, delighting in the way he stumbles up the last three stairs, almost dropping me completely.
He props me up against the wooden banister at the top and eyes the four closed doors like one is the gateway to Narnia and the others are a highway to hell. I lean forward and catch the tip of his ear with my teeth, the exact spot that flushes red every time I say something that shocks him.
He sucks in a sharp breath. “Which door, Nova?”
“Pick one and find out.”
He makes a grumbling, groaning sound. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so out of sorts. His hands squeeze my ass again. “Now is not the time to be cute.”
