Page 4 of Dirty Sweet Valentine
“Ah. Good point.” I forced my hands to release him, and sat back to watch as he tucked himself away. “Quite an untraditional Valentine’s Day gift.”
“Are you complaining?”
“I am not.”
“I am glad.” His grin made me woozy. “But it wasn’t really a Valentine’s Day gift.”
My brows tilted inward. “It wasn’t?”
He scanned the room. “I’ve been wanting to do this for you,” he said, retrieving a glove off the floor. “And when I realized this morning that I was going to be in the doghouse if I didn’t do something today, I decided to make it happen.”
The tension that had been released from orgasming returned to settle in my jaw. His remark wasn’t exactly off-putting, yet somehow it felt like a deliberate jab at me. I tried to keep a civil tone, but in the end I bristled. “Not a fan of February 14th?”
He looked up at me, his expression flecked with guilt. “I’m a fan of you.”
I pursed my lips, not sure why I was upset. He’d given me a gift, whether he said it was for the holiday or not, a gift I enjoyed very much. He was into me. He was here. Why did it matter if he wasn’t quite the romantic knight?
I must have been easy to read because his eyes did the thing they did when he was annoyed with me—not quite an eye roll, but close.
Then he sighed. “Look, Sabrina,” he said, his expression stern. “Valentine’s Day is a bullshit holiday. It’s about money and proving your place in a cultural structure that you and I already know we exist outside of. You think a dozen roses and a tennis bracelet will validate our relationship? You think if I take you out to a romantic dinner that it will sufficiently express the emotions I have for you?”
He stepped closer to the desk, leaning his hands on either side of me to cage me in. “I’m in love with you. If you need to hear it, I can tell you again. But I don’t think those words can be any clearer than my actions. I’ve lived the last ten years for you. I made you move into my home. Certainly that tells you more about my feelings than a box of chocolates could.
“So don’t fuss about the shit I didn’t do for you today—”
I’d been melting, but at this I had to protest. “I didn’t—”
He cut me off. “—And look at what I do for you every day. Nationally certified occasion or not.”
My frown lingered. Donovan made me weak, and I hated to give in easily. But I had no ground to stand on. I didn’t need stupid holidays to tell me how he felt. What he’d said was perfect, and he was perfect, and I couldn’t resist loving every unconventional bone in his body.
I reached my hand up to caress against his stubbled jaw. “Say it again.”
He paused briefly, possibly to be sure he knew what I was asking. Then his arms came around my waist. “I love you,” he said. “I really love you, might be more accurate. I live-my-life-around-you love you is better still.”
I stretched both arms up to wrap around his neck. “I live-my-life-around-you love you too.”
His lips twitched. He couldn’t help himself, he had to say it. “But I’ve done it longer.”
“It’s not a competition,” I laughed.
“It’s not? Because I’m pretty sure I won.” He gave me a quick kiss then swatted my hip. “Come on. Get dressed. I have a change of clothes for both of us in the stairwell. I didn’t bring any panties, though.” He swiped the thong from the desk and held it up. “And I’m keeping these.”
He tucked his prize in his pocket then helped me off of the desk.
“Are we going somewhere?” I asked. My stomach growled loudly, as though wanting a say in our after-fucking plans.
Donovan raised a brow at the intrusion. “Okazu. It’s not a date because it’s Valentine’s Day. It’s a date because I’m hungry, and I always like feasting on you best."
Okazu was our favorite Japanese restaurant. The private rooms and low-to-the-ground tables made it easy to fool around in the filthiest ways. We’d taken full advantage in the past, and I had a pretty good feeling tonight would be no different.
“Sounds awesome. I’m obviously starving.”
“Not surprising since you didn’t eat.”
I smiled guiltily. “You know me so well.”
Together we cleaned up Ellen’s desk, putting the phone back in its place and straightening the items we’d knocked over while fucking. I hadn’t realized we’d been so destructive. It made me hot to see the remains.
When we were finished, I wiped some of her Purell over her desk. It probably wasn’t very professional to have sex on your secretary’s desk, even if she’d never know. The least I could do was leave it sanitized.
“I’ll grab the clothes while you’re shutting down your office. I need to stop by my office too, to erase the security recording.”
Damn. I’d forgotten about the cameras. Thank God Donovan always thought of everything. I could just imagine one of the partners accidentally watching what we’d done.
“Wait,” I said, stopping him before he’d left. “Can you maybe make a copy for us first?”
He grinned. “There’s already a duplicate feed running to the apartment.”
“Of course there is.” I wasn’t always happy about Donovan’s penchant for surveillance, but this time I had to admit I saw the benefit. “We should watch it as soon as we get home.”
His expression was serious, but he crossed back to me in two swift steps, swooping me once again into his arms for a slow, passionate kiss. When he broke away, he whispered in my ear. “Mamoritai. Daiji ni Shitai. Aishiteru.”
I didn’t speak Japanese, but he’d said these words to me enough times now that I knew what they meant. I want to protect you. I treasure you. I love you. There was nothing more I needed from a man than to be protected, treasured, and loved.
I’d been foolish earlier, when I’d thought we didn’t speak the same love language. Obviously we did, because time and time again Donovan had proven all three sentiments to me. Proven that he could protect me. Proven that he treasured me. Proven that he loved me. Sometimes in the dirtiest, filthiest ways.
But always in the richest ways too.
Donovan and Sabrina first appear in the
Dirty Duet.
Start with Dirty Filthy Rich Boys which is available everywhere for FREE.
Filthy Valentine Fix
One
“The financial reports you signed off on have been delivered to Ms. Anders-Sitkin. I rescheduled your Monday afternoon like you asked, and here’s the proposal from the new tech company you’re looking into. I had it bound so you can read it over the weekend.” It was Friday just after four, and I was giving my boss my report before he left for the day.
When I first started working for Hudson Pierce, I’d always been the one to leave first. A man didn’t get as successful as he did without being a workaholic, and he definitely was one. After he got married six years ago, however, he became more balanced and started leaving at the same time I did. The birth of his twins seven months ago changed his habits once again, and now he occasionally left before me, especially since his wife began displaying signs of postpartum OCD.
“Good, good. That’s all good.” He took the report I handed him and stuffed it into his briefcase without looking at it, seemingly preoccupied. He was in a hurry to get out of there, I could tell, his eyes darting between his watch and the elevator.
“Just one more thing. You had a delivery from Cartier.” I unlocked the bottom drawer where I had stashed the long box when it had come in by courier, assuming whatever was inside was most likely valuable.
Hudson perked up at this. “Oh. I’ve been waiting for this.” The stoic man appeared almost excited as he took the box from me and opened it, the lid blocking my view of the contents. “Have you looked?”
“Of course not, Mr. Pierce.” I was appalled. As if I wasn’t an absolute professional. I took my job as his secretary with pride.
It was in other areas of my life that I was naughty.
He tur
ned the box so I could see the necklace. It was simple but breathtaking, a plain opal stone enclosed between two rubies. “It’s magnificent,” I said, imagining it cost more than my monthly salary. “They’re the birthstones of your children, aren’t they?”
“Yes. Opals are Mina’s and the rubies are the twins’.” His voice was filled with pride. I planned never to have children, but if anyone came close to convincing me that the thought wasn’t completely abhorrent, it was Hudson.
“Mrs. Pierce will love that. A truly thoughtful gift. Any special occasion?” The man never needed a reason to give his wife gifts, but this one was above and beyond.
Though, maybe the occasion this time was that her mental health was suffering. I regretted asking as soon as the thought occurred to me.
He looked at me as if I’d forgotten something important. “Valentine’s Day.”
