Chapter Thirteen
Grace
It feels almost strange walking into Harry’s office without Adam spinning in his office chair to greet me, like he usually does. But after the argument yesterday, Harry gave Adam a fitness-instructor position so they wouldn’t have to see each other day in, day out. I guess he thought that was a better solution to just firing him.
As I walk toward Harry’s office door, I can’t help but smile a little naughtily.
I might be here for impure reasons, that’s the fricking truth.
All day, I’ve been thinking about the way Harry stood off against Adam.
Even if part of me wants to scream that he doesn’t own me and so he has no right to ride chivalrously to my defense like that, there’s another part that loved it, that wanted to sink deeply into our shared history together.
A blast from the past is a ride not to be ignored, today’s horoscope told me.But be careful, because, before you know it, you might sink so deeply into the past you neglect your present. A balancing act is required here.
Okay, fine, I get that.
But I haven’t experienced heat like this since I was a kid and I gave myself to Harry for the first time.
Right now – not to be crass – there’s onlyonething I want to balance on.
I knock on the door, taking a moment to straighten out my ponytail and smooth my hand over my hair, wondering if I should’ve showered before I came here.
But when Harry calls for me to come in and I open the door, I see the desire flaming like a furnace in his eyes, and I know I made the right call.
“Hey, bad boy,” I say, skipping across the room, feeling a note of exhilaration running through me at the way he looks at me. “I was wondering. Youdohave a bedroom in this place, right?”
He grins, flashing his canines, and approaches me like a predator.
Jeez, it does feel pretty good to be his prey, I’ve got to be honest.
He loops his arms around my waist and tugs me close to him, mashing our bodies together.
“I do,” he growls, leaning down and finding my lips.
I open my mouth and drink in the kiss, gulping deeply on the tingling pressure. “Well,” I sass, “I think it’s about time you showed me, don’t you?”
***
The next day is the sexiest I’ve experienced in my entire life, no joke.
Every chance Harry and I have to steal off to his well-furnished bedroom, we take it greedily.
I notice him making eyes at me in the morning as we assemble for our briefing, the women around me positively oozing jealousy. But I don’t care, not when his hand scorches into the small of my back and guides me to our fricking palace of pleasure.
That evening, after hammering out another blog post – upbeat and go-get-them in attitude, because that’s how I’m feeling today – I spin around in my desk chair, listening to my phone ring on loudspeaker as I call Kelly.
After some general chitchat – apparently, Tinder really is the dick-pic haven it’s earned the reputation for, according to Kelly’s latest foray – she asks me how things are going with my plan.
“Hmm, the plan,” I murmur. “Well, let’s just say I’m not so sure about it anymore.”
“Yay,” she beams, her voice high-pitched with joy through the phone. “I actually can’t tell you how glad I am about that. Just reading your blog, I can see how happy you’re feeling over there. I was hoping you were going to start seeing it, babe.”
“Seeing what?”
“Um, what’s blindingly obvious to me … you don’t want totrickHarry. You want tobewith him.”
I want to tell her no, no fricking way.
