I turned to him.
He pointed a long finger to his gorgeous lips.
I released a harassed breath and stomped to him, got up on my toes, and kissed those gorgeous lips that were now smiling.
I then headed back out saying, “I won’t be long.”
“Right,” both men replied in dual tones of disbelieving.
Whatever.
I walked up the stairs trying to decide on what sweater I’d wear.
But forcing its way into that decision-making process, the knowledge hit me that Hale was, indeed, the richest man in the world.
And maybe the busiest.
And he was here.
Because he heard I was hurting.
And because he loved me.
He also heard that from Chloe, who heard stuff from Alex, and they were both worried about me.
Because they loved me.
I had two choices on how to react to this tardily dawning apprehension.
Bawl my eyes out.
Or smile and get on with it.
I chose door number two.
And not incidentally, a few minutes later, I chose the perfect sweater.
In the end, it took me two hours to get ready, because, in order to stop everyone I loved who loved me in return from worrying about me, I did a group text to tell them Dair and I made up.
This meant doing hair and makeup while fielding a variety of calls.
But considering my excuse, neither man I loved (who loved me in return) minded.
“Aye, lass,” Dair encouraged gruffly.
He was on his knees, his head bent, his hands to the headboard, his legs spread, and at his command, I was reaching through his glorious thighs and stroking his cock.
Yes, at his command.
Like I was his good girl.
Though, I totally was.
I mean, just the command put me there, but how he was right now?
Yum.
“Fuck, that little twist ye do,” he grunted, beginning to pump into my hand.
