That’s just who I am. I don’t play games. I go after what I want, but I don’t fuck over everyone on the way up.
They say there are no ethical billionaires.
But I’m doing my damndest to have that not apply to me.
Marie’s nose wrinkles adorably again and I stop thinking about society and the past and how much this impressive woman can bench press. Instead, I give in to the urge to bend down and press my lips there.
“You have freckles here.”
One shoulder lifts in an approximation of a shrug. “I wasn’t great about wearing sunscreen when I was younger.”
“Hmm.” I touch the smattering. “I like them.”
“Are we still talking?”
“Considering this is the most cooperative you’ve been from the moment I’ve met you, yeah, I’d kind of like to talk to you some more, cookie.”
“You could tell me why you keep calling me cookie.”
“Youcould tell me why you were in my office, standing over me, stroking my hair, and generally acting like the creeper you accused me of being last week.”
“Technically, it wasmorethan a week ago.”
“You keeping tabs on me, gorgeous?”
“Areyougoing to stop talking and get around to fucking me, handsome?”
Nine
Marie
I’ve lost my mind.
I know that.
But I don’t care.
He’s strong and beautiful, and his body feels fucking great pressing into mine.
And his hair is silky soft and his smile is intoxicating and…it’s been sodamnedlong since I’ve allowed myself to have a moment like this.
Luckily, my words have their desired effect.
One big palm settles heavily on my hip, slides up my side, dragging the fabric of my hood and tank top with it.
But when the material bunches up just beneath my breasts, he stops, brows flicking up. “No pantsandno bra?”
I shrug as well as I’m able, considering I’m laying down and he’s pinning me in place. “The bra seemed unnecessary considering the hoodie.”
“And the pants?”
“Like I said, I checked out my apartment, they got wet, and…”
“You slipped in here to creep on me.”
He’s not wrong.
I’ll also never admit that, not even under pain of death.
