Never satisfied in the bedroom…because the perfectionist is always looking for new and deliciously inventive ways to please his partner.
Just as I finish reading the email, the office door opens with a quietsnickand Scarlett sashays in, looking like a gift I’d like to unwrap. “Have the results come in yet?”
“No.” I shoot her a cocky grin. “But I can think of some deliciously inventive ways to pass the time while we wait.”
“I see you read my notes.” She laughs, the sound light and musical and perfect for relieving the stress of a long day. “Let me guess, you’re refreshing your email every thirty seconds, checking for the results.”
“Give me a little credit. I do have some self-control.” She arches one of those expressive brows and I crack like an egg. “It’s more like every sixty seconds.”
She comes around the back of the desk and leans in to kiss me. It’s completely PG, but her lips are warm and soft and my thoughts quickly move to R-rated territory.
“You know, we could always head out and check the results when we get home,” I offer, sliding a hand up her backside and giving it a gentle squeeze.
She rolls her eyes and removes my hand from her ass. “We’ve been looking forward to this for weeks. We can hold out for a few more minutes.”
“Speak for yourself.” I flash her a wolfish grin. “I’ve been fantasizing about that little black number of yours all day.”
The one she promised to wear if we made the list.
Just the thought of it makes my cock stiffen.
“Well, then. What are you waiting for?” She nods to the monitor, and I hit the refresh button.
We watch with bated breath as the inbox updates, a new message appearing at the top of the screen.
Best Places to Work in Austin Announced!
Scarlett takes my left hand, squeezing it tight as I click on the email.
…
Scarlett
I can hardly breathe as I wait for the email to load. We’ve worked so hard to improve the culture and working conditions at Triada, and while I know making the list is important to Nick, it means a lot to me, too. Making the Best Places to Work list would validate all the work I’ve done over the last nine months.
The email loads and Nick immediately begins scrolling. The list starts with number twenty and counts down to number one. The numbers fly by and Nick barely pauses to read them.
Seventeen.
Sixteen.
Fifteen.
My heart stutters and anxiety creeps up my spine. We’ve put in such long hours, made so many changes. I was sure we’d make the list, but my optimism diminishes with each number that slides past.
Eleven.
Ten.
Nine.
Crap. It’s not looking good. Tension rolls off Nick in waves, and I can hardly blame him. I want this as badly as he does. For both of us.
Five.
Four.
Three.
