Her expression lightens. "No. He’s someone who knows himself and who can’t be swayed."
"Exactly." I pull her into my arms and am relieved when she comes willingly. "I wasn’t surprised he supported me in making you CEO. It first crossed my mind when I saw you at the head of the table handling those men like a badass."
She smiles. "Badass, huh?"
"It was a real turn on." I pull her into my lap.
Her cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink. Her expression is pleased, then she tosses her head like she’s trying to hide it.
"I was so proud of you then. I’m even more proud of you now. You’re talented, baby. You’re good at what you do. We make a good team. And honestly, I’m bored with the CEO role. I want to focus on what excites me, something I'll lead for not only Davenport Capital, but for the entire group."
"So, your role would expand?"
He nods. "It would be a promotion, of sorts. One I can’t take on, unless you agreed to be CEO. So, you’d be doing me a favor." I rub my nose against hers. "What do you say?"
35
Lark
Make sure I have enough festive snacks for ‘holiday emergencies.’
—From Lark’s Christmas to-do list
Maybe it’s because he referred to the company as 'our' company. Or because he admitted to being turned on by watching me in action. Or because he seemed genuine when he said he believes I have it in me to be CEO. Or because Arthur made it clear he’ll back me, and that's no small thing. Whatever the reason, I find myself considering the possibility seriously.
"I’ll think about it." I frame his face with my hands.
"Good." He kisses me firmly.
Then he slides off his stool and, holding me, he begins to walk away from the kitchen.
"Where are we going?"
"To open your Christmas present, of course."
"Oh." I stare at him, stricken. "I didn’t get you a Christmas present."
"You’re my Christmas present." He smirks.
I want to roll my eyes. But his bravado can’t hide the sincerity in his eyes. "You’ve already given me a Christmas present by asking me to be CEO."
"That’s nothing compared to what I’m giving you next." He reaches the bedroom and, after another kiss which makes my head spin, he lowers me to the bed.
He grasps the hem of my sweatshirt and pulls it up and over my head, then rolls my panties down my legs. He slides off the bed and stands at the foot. He sweeps his gaze over me, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
"Stay there." He points at me, before he marches to the closet. As if I'd go anywhere else. He emerges holding several neck ties in his hand.
"You carried neck ties in your luggage? Were you expecting to wear suits?"
"That’s not the only reason to use neck ties." He reaches me, then surveys me up and down. His eyes glint. Oh no. I so don’t trust that look.
"What are you up to?" I scowl.
He cups his chin, then tilts his head, first this way. Then that. "I want to tie you up."
My jaw drops. "Excuse me?"
He slides one of the ties through his fingers, his movements controlled. Quiet authority clings to his powerful frame in a way that turns my throat dry. I am so transfixed by his actions that when he speaks, I jolt.
