Colt leans down to kiss my head. “Did you have a good time?”
“Are you kidding?” I scoff. “I don’t think anything could ever top that.”
“Good.” He playfully smacks me on the behind. “I have to shower and head into the office for a bit. I should be back before seven.”
“Seriously?” I whine.
“Return of the real world.”
As he disappears down the hallway, I hear screeching similar to that of a banshee, quickly followed by Colt’s deep, booming laughter. I follow the sound with a wide smile on my face, and my heart swells in my chest when I see Colt crouched down with Macie’s arms wrapped around his neck so tightly it looks like she might squeeze his head right off. I give them a minute before joining in their greeting, getting my own vise-grip hug, complete with happy tears that crack my insides clean in two.
Once the excitement dies down, we say our goodbyes to the sitter, who Colt hands a ridiculous amount of cash to before he vanishes to his room to shower, then Macie and I head for my room. She watches as I pull things out of my suitcases – the new dresses, my everyday clothes, the empty scrapbook I bought for myself. Messing with her, I wait to pull out her gift until the end: a small, purple leather bag filled with chocolates and candies that you can only get in Italy.
She follows me around like a shadow, her bag slung over her shoulder, reaching in for a chocolate every now and again, as I move around the house to unpack things and print out the photos I took so I can put them into my scrapbook. It’s a cute little book, white with a delicate gold border, embossed with the saying, ‘chi cerca, trova,’ which Colt told me translates to, ‘he who seeks, finds.’ It seemed fitting for documenting a trip as magical as the one we just got back from.
I certainly found more than I knew I was looking for. I think maybe he did, too.
Macie helps me sort through the photos as they finish printing, and I can’t help but giggle at a few of them – especially the few that managed to capture Colt looking grumpy in the middle of what could easily be the most romantic place on Earth.
“Is Mr. Colt your boyfriend?” She asks.
“I dunno,” I tell her honestly. “I think so. I sure would like him to be.”
“Ew, gross,” she grumbles. “Boyfriendskissyou.”
Holding back my laughter, I tell her, “I’m gonna remember this conversation ten years from now, kid, and I’m absolutely going to use it against you.”
She helps me for the next hour, gluing the photos into place and adding stickers wherever she thinks they would look best, and I busy myself with writing down places and details I want to remember.
I hope we’ll go back someday – or even visit another place, it doesn’t even have to be out of state or country – and take her with us, next time.
THIRTY-THREE
Colt
Closing the door behind me, I walk through my office toward the cabinet at the far wall of my office and fix myself a glass of whiskey, take a long drink of it, then drop into the seat at my desk.
It’s been days since we got back, and I still can’t kick this jetlag. It’s getting in the way of a lot of things, like the back-to-back meetings I’ve had all damn day.
Pulling myself closer toward the desk, my knees knock into something.
“What the fuck?”
I roll the seat back to look beneath the desk, and see Rowan’s innocently smiling face looking up at me, eyelashes fluttering. The sight of her on her knees is enough to send my mind fucking reeling.
“What are you doing down there?” I laugh.
She shrugs. “You sounded stressed. I thought I might help.”
Her hands grip the wheels of the chair and she rolls me closer to her until she’s nestled herself snugly between my thighs, letting her hands roam freely over them.
“Rowan,” I warn.
With a feline smile, she tells me, “I want to make you feel good.”
I pull my drink to my lips as she slowly works to unfasten my belt and the button of my slacks, then she takes her time pulling down their zipper. I grunt as she reaches for my cock, already solid and desperate for relief, to free it from my slacks.
Her lips press a soft kiss to the head of it and I’m forced to surrender any sense of control I thought I had when I walked in here, leaning my head back against my chair as she carefully takes my dick into her mouth.
