He sighed and settled in deeper, smelling suspiciously like my deodorant and shampoo. “I haven’t gotten off in far too long.”
Two sets of laughter filtered through the earbud as I willed my dick to stand down.
“Stop encouraging his bad behavior,” I grumped as my hands went to Hen’s hips.
DB’s husband waved at the camera. “Hey, Hendrix, I’m Odd. Big fan of your music.”
Hen leaned in and smiled, then fluffed up his hair. “Well, hey there, Odd. Name like that, your parents must be Norwegian.”
“That they are,” Odd said, a fact belied by his Texas accent.
“Last time I was in Oslo, I spent some time at that go-go bar. What’s the name of it?” His ass nudged my crotch, and I recalled the pics he’d shared on the group chat. They were definitely notHR-approved, and I should get him off my lap and off this call as soon as possible.
“Blaze,” Odd replied with a grin.
Hen wiggled happily. “Busted.”
Odd chuckled as DB narrowed his eyes. “What kind of bar is this, again?”
“The kind where the ladies don’t wear very much,” Odd said, then kissed DB’s nose.
“And some of those ladies have very accommodating boyfriends.” Hen sighed, biting his lip as he lay back against my chest. “So very accommodating.”
“That’s my boss, Hen,” I reminded him.
At the same time, Odd grinned and responded, “Good to know.”
DB grumbled and smacked Odd’s ass. “Just so you know, dear husband, nothing’s beingaccommodatedhere,” he said, glaring at me as he pushed Odd, laughing, out of view.
An entire HR nightmare.
“Don’t look at me like that, DB. I told you not to encourage his bad behavior.”
DB cursed under his breath, though it looked as if his eyes were tracking his handsome husband offscreen. We quickly said our goodbyes, and something told me he and Odd would be occupied for the rest of the evening.
“That was fun,” Hen said as I belatedly moved my hands from his hips to retrieve my stolen earbud.
“For you, maybe,” I muttered, returning the earbuds to their case, glad my cock hadn’t given me away. “You can get off my lap now.”
He complied, then snorted when I began returning my electronics to their specific pockets in my laptop bag. “Fine. But you have to admit that I added flair to an otherwise boring meeting.”
“I will admit no such thing.” I crossed the living room to set the laptop case in the hall closet, then tucked my tie into my shirt and rolled up my sleeves. “How do you feel about spinach tortellini?”
“Are you even allowed that many carbs?” he asked, following me into the kitchen.
I turned on the water and began soaping my hands. “I factored that into my other meals this week.”
“Oh myGod.” He let his head fall back. When I didn’t respond to his theatrics, he straightened and shook his head. “This? Is why I call you Agnes.”
“Not everyone treats their body like a fun house, Hendrix,” I replied as I rinsed and dried off.
“You do understand that fun isn’t a bad thing, don’t you, Agnes?”
“Stop calling me that. And of course I know that fun isn’t bad,” I said, grabbing the big pot from the bottom cabinet. I raised my voice so he could hear me over the sound of the water as I filled it. “That’s why I put it on my calendar. Every Saturday at two o’clock, I have to find something fun to do.”
“Oh, Agnes.” He dropped his head to my biceps, and I wished I could press my nose into his messy hair. “I know the line we’retelling people is that I need you to stay here to watch over me, but I’m starting to think you need me as much as I need you.”
You have no idea how true that is.
