“You didn’t have to come with me to the embassy.”
“I know. But I’m ready to crash. Let’s go to bed.”
I didn’t bother to tell him about the spare bedroom with its full-size bed and bunk beds for my nieces’ and nephews’ sleepovers. We knew what we wanted.
“That way.” I pointed down the hallway. “You can use the bathroom first while I get some water.”
He used the guest bath, and by the time I finished getting ready for bed, he was already lying in my bed on the side without the stack of business books and my reading glasses. He wore a white T-shirt, and his eyes were barely open.
He waited until I sat on the edge of the bed. “Lights out?” he asked.
I tucked my feet under the covers and pulled the sheet to my chin. “Ready.”
He reached a long arm over me and flicked off the light.
“G’night, Cole.”
He tugged me into him, my back to his front, the way we’d slept for the last three nights. “Goodnight, Bridget,” he whispered into my ear. A second later, I was asleep.
24
GOOD GIRL
Morning routine?
Cole:A run, then a shower, then my first cup of coffee.
Bridget:This time of year, it’s still dark out when I get up. I shower and get ready, then I walk to work as the sun rises.
BRIDGET
My alarm went off too early. After a week of birdsong-filled early sunrises closer to the equator, I wasn’t ready for the pitch-black silence that met my bleary eyes as I silenced my phone.
Five more minutes.I snuggled back into Cole’s arms, letting his herbal scent envelop me.Wait.
It was Tuesday, a workday, with fifty-five days left in my ninety-day plan, and Cole shouldn’t be in my bed. I shouldnotbe cradled in his body like an orchid on a mango tree. Everyone would suspect the redness on my cheek was Cole’s shoulder-print. I started to shimmy to the edge of the bed, but his arms wrapped around me and pinned me to his body.
“Huh-uh,” he murmured. “You’re not going anywhere.” His hand slid under my sleep shirt to the underside of my breast, setting off an eruption of tingles in my core.
“Who says?” But my voice was breathy as his erection pressed against my butt.
“I do,” he rumbled. “Any objections?”
I should’ve objected. There were a dozen reasons to. But I couldn’t think of any of them as he flicked my nipple. Someone moaned, and I was afraid it was me. Maybe if I closed my eyes, I could pretend it was a dream and I wasn’t actually letting my colleague, my competitor, tug down my panties a few hours before we had to be in the office.
His hands felt too good. “N-no. No objections.”
“Excellent.” He cupped me, his fingertips teasing my opening while his thumb tapped my clit. “Such a good girl. So wet for me.”
Wetness gushed between my legs as I pressed into his hand. “I’m not a girl. I’m older than you.”
He chuckled into my ear. “You think you can’t still be a good girl if you’re over thirty? Besides, you love it when I call you a good girl.”
I bit my tongue to keep the moan inside. “Do not.”
When he tweaked my clit, I gasped. “If you lie to me, I’ll stop calling you a good girl.”
My brain glitched, unable to decide whether I liked the praise or the pinch more. I was seconds away from soaring on a current of pleasure.
