With that, he stands from the table and attempts to step to the side, as if he’s leaving. I grab his hand quickly and ask, “Where are you going?”
“I had my dinner.” His alluring eyes pin me. “Now it’s time for bed.”
Eyes trained on mine, he brings my hand to his mouth, places a soft kiss on my knuckles, and then breaks our connection as he backs away. Before he turns and retreats from the dining room, I spy his hard erection, pressing and aching against the zipper of his dress pants.
God, he’s so hot, so tempting.
I want his dick in my mouth.
That’s my initial thought, and then the desire to have him in my mouth grows immensely larger with every breath I take. Should I chase after him? What would I do if I did? Hell, I think we all know what I would do. Pull his pants down and suck him off. I’d revel in the act of having his heavy cock in my mouth.
But if I know one thing about Huxley, it’s if he wanted his cock in my mouth, he would’ve asked for it. That’s the type of man he is.
And from his quick retreat? He doesn’t want it from me.
Yet.
Chapter Fifteen
HUXLEY
I can still taste her on my tongue.
I can still feel the beat of her clit pulsing with pleasure.
I can still hear her cries of ecstasy as she came all over my face.
And, fuck, I can’t think of anything else.
This is exactly why I didn’t want to get involved. Why I knew crossing that line with her would be a bad idea, because she’s too consuming. Because she’s the type of woman you don’t have one taste of and say take care.
No, she leaves a lasting impression. An imprint. She doesn’t fade away.
I find myself checking the clock, seeing what time it is, counting down the goddamn minutes until she texts me a question, waiting desperately to see her today for the meeting with her sister.
And all it took was one goddamn taste. Now I’m a fucking mess.
I want her.
I didn’t see her this morning. I snuck out early with my gym bag, came to the office, got a workout in, and showered here, too worried that if I did see her, I’d bury myself between her legs again, searching out her sweet taste, wanting to hear her cry out my name again.
Fuck.
What is wrong with me?
I never should have crossed that line. I never should have even considered her an option, and the big reason why is because I think I’m developing feelings for the girl, and I know those feelings most likely are not returned.
Yeah, she’s getting to know me, though not because she likes me—fuck, I sound like a teenager—but she’s getting to know me so she’s not doing business with some jerk-off who doesn’t know how to act around women.
And if she was really into me, she’d have followed me upstairs last night. I didn’t expect her to and I’d never expect a woman to return the favor, but if she had any draw toward me, she’d have been at my bedroom door, at least listening as I came all over my stomach, my hand pumping like a goddamn workhorse while my mind focused on the sounds and taste of her orgasm.
But she didn’t, and I need to be conscious of that. I need to remember exactly what I’m doing. Trying to secure a deal.
I turn my attention to my computer just as my phone beeps with a text message. I squeeze my eyes shut, attempting to have some self-control, but I fail miserably as I reach for my phone and open up the text from Lottie.
Lottie: What’s for lunch today?
I lean back in my office chair and text her back.
Huxley: Is that one of your questions?
Lottie: Consider it a freebie. Inquiring minds are curious.
Huxley: Not sure. Probably nothing. Getting a lot of work done.
She doesn’t need to know that what I really want for lunch is her goddamn pussy, and if she were here right now, I’d be feasting on her before she could even take her next breath.
Lottie: How can you not eat lunch? I had a donut an hour ago, a huge breakfast burrito for breakfast, and I’m starving, ready to gnaw my arm off. And you skipped out on dinner.
Huxley: I recall it differently. I had my fill of dinner.
Fuck, I can’t help myself. I can’t stop myself from reminding her of how I make her feel, hell, how she makes me feel.
Satisfied.
Lottie: Question—have you always been this dirty?
Huxley: When you know what you want, you go after it. There’s nothing dirty involved, just the truth.
Lottie: Well, that was a scapegoat answer that worked really well for you. Now ask me a question. Distract me while Kelsey fetches us lunch.
Huxley: Do you feel as though you know me a little better?
Lottie: I do, but I’m not sure I would’ve without these questions. I’m glad you’ve been open to them.
Huxley: Your turn.
Lottie: That’s all you’re going to say on the matter?
Huxley: Yes.
Lottie: Okay, I see that I’m getting the closed-off Huxley today, that’s fine. Hmm, question—when was the last time you had sex, and with who?
Huxley: That’s two questions.
Lottie: It’s a two-parter, linked together. It passes.
Huxley: Why do you want to know?
Lottie: Is that your question?
Huxley: Consider it linked as well.
Lottie: Just interested in what your life was like before I rolled in.
Huxley: Last time I had sex, probably three months ago, with a girl I’ve known for a few years. Occasionally we get together just for the hell of it, no strings attached. Don’t have time for anything else.
Lottie: A booty call. I wouldn’t have expected anything less. But three months seems like a long time. I would’ve thought once a week for you.
Huxley: No time. Plus, I told you, when we’re in contract, I don’t seek out anyone else but you.
Lottie: I don’t know how to respond to that.
Huxley: No need. My last question before I go—are you nervous about the pitch today?
Lottie: Honestly?
Huxley: Always.
Lottie: I am. I’m nervous because we’ve been working hard on this. I know we offer a great service, I know a lot is riding on this, and I know you’re not going to just give us something for the hell of it, you’re going to make us earn it.