Page 92 of Playing Dirty
"I'm captivated," I murmur, pulling her in for a kiss, her lips holding a sweet trace of the vanilla lip balm she always uses, matching the perfume that always gets right under my skin. "We’ll have to celebrate properly the second we both have some free time. I mean, we're technically in hiding for a bit longer, but we can have a discreet dinner. Or fly anywhere nice for a trip."
She sips her wine and considers. "You know, Sabrina pointed out I’m not taking advantage of the fact that you’re one of the rich elite. Perhaps I should be booking more flights to exotic locations."
I laugh and pull her closer. "Wherever you like."
“Dinner sounds lovely.” She laughs softly. "It’ll have to be booked like a month from now to fit in the schedule, but I’d love that."
"I’m so proud of you, Margot,” I say. “I know how much work you put into this project."
"Well," she says, nodding smugly. "That's true, I do. And thanks to you for, you know, promoting it so effectively. I mean the sales are crazy. I don't think either of us could have predicted back at the start how thrilled I'd be to have your face on my passion project."
"Is that right?" I give her ass a playful swat. "You know, a successful launchandsleeping with the ambassador? I’d say your client relations skills have reached elite levels."
She giggles. "Shut your mouth, you absolute ass!"
I pull her in for another kiss, tasting the sparkling wine on her tongue, and we slowly make our way to the couch. The windows are dark, the city glittering away below us in the night, and she snuggles in against me on the couch, her head finding its usual spot against my chest.
"Oh! I almost forgot." She pulls back just enough to look at me, a playful spark in her gaze. "I survived my first proper boxing class today. It wasamazing. I even learned how to throw a hook."
"Of course you did." The laugh rumbles out of me. "God help the heavy bag. Show me."
"What,now?" She shifts her weight, looking slightly dubious.
"Aye, now," I nod, motioning her to stand.
She sets her glass down with exaggerated care, stands up in front of me, and squares her shoulders. She throws the world's most methodical hook in slow motion, with textbook form and zero malice, and I reach up to catch her fist in my palm like a mitt and kiss her knuckles.
"Deadly," I declare. "I suspect the heavy bag never stood a chance."
"Watch out world, one more douchey rich guy at work and I'm going to floor him." She's laughing as she retrieves her wine and sits back down. "It's a blast. Thanks for the rage room epiphany, by the way. I never realized how much I actually enjoyed hitting things."
"Happy to have corrupted you." I wind a loose strand of her hair around my finger. "We'll have to go again next time we're in Dublin."
"I'd love that," she says, her voice softening. "Helps get out some of the... well, you know. Any and all pent-up frustration."
"Speaking of, how did things go with your parents and your dad’s doctor appointment?"
"Good. Things are actually fine right now. And his knee appointment went great." She exhales a slow, steady breath. "I really don't mind helping with things like that; it's just sometimes the guilt-tripping and the mediator role for their marriage gets exhausting. But I think that text got through to them. I still feel a bit bad, but they seemed totally fine. Theyevenorganized the follow-up themselves, and I told them I don't mind helping with those kinds of logistics!"
"Well, that's a grand start. I think you've built a slightly healthier parent-child dynamic." I nod slowly. "You did the right thing, Ace."
She lets out a light, relieved laugh. "Well, we'll just see how it goes."
"So when does the whole new-label timeline actually kick off?" I ask, taking a sip.
"Oh, ages from now. A project like this takes years to build properly," she says, her hands moving in those rapid, graceful gestures. "But god, the work is sofulfilling. I don't think I've ever been this excited about anything."
I smile down at her, and she looks up at me, biting her lip while her gaze goes heavy and dark. I lean in and capture her mouth, sliding our glasses onto the coffee table without looking, and the kiss goes deep fast. She makes a soft, needy sound, and then she's shifting, climbing over my lap until she's straddling my thighs, and any thought of being a gentleman evaporates instantly.
"Well, hello," I rasp against her lips.
"Hi." She kisses me once more, a slow, lingering press that steals my next breath. Her fingers tug at the fabric of my shirt, hauling me closer, and the confidence radiating off her has me completely under her spell.
Then she sits back, knees on either side of me, and reaches for the hem of her dress. She pulls it up and over her head in one smooth motion, tossing the fabric somewhere into the shadows, and underneath she's wearing a matching set of dark blue lace I've never seen before.
My brain goes dead quiet.
"Fuck, Ace." My palms find her waist instinctively. "When did you get this?"
