“Then it’s settled,” Noah says, resting his hand over the napkin he spread there. “Rule number one is what happens on this trip stays here. We keep our business between us.”
I pretend to weigh his suggestion, already knowing it’s exactly what I want. While I can’t presume to keep it from Kara forever—I’m sure she’ll smell it on me when I get back—I am comforted by the idea of it staying our business.
“Alright,” I concede, my nerves already twirling with the next question on my mind. “And, if it’s more than a one night thing, regardless of what it is outside of this weekend, does thatmean . . .” The words stick in my throat, all of it still too much like propositioning him.
“That I have more plans for fucking you?”
My body is charged—liquified awareness pulsing in all the places he licked and kissed me last night. I nod, unsure the sounds I can utter in this moment will be anything more than strained peeps.
“Yes,” he says, his gray eyes boring into mine. He leans in closer, his voice barely a whisper in my ear. “I plan to make sure you are so thoroughly satisfied, you lose your taste for fucking hipsters in dingy bar bathrooms.”
“We’ve only got three days,” I squeak, desperate to have him either make good on this promise, or refocus on breakfast.
“I’m up for the challenge. Be like my own personal olympics.”
“Sex olympics?”
“Mmm,” he muses, flicking a piece of hair over my shoulder. “A marathon of games if you will.”
The moment stretches, teasing the arousal he’s awakened and conjuring all sorts of ways we could play these so called olympic games. In the next breath, he sits up, clears his throat and digs into his food. I’m frozen in place, the weight of his words swirling into a delicious promise. I want to hate the way he’s dangling temptation, but under my surface annoyance is the kind of thrill I’ve spent ten years searching for—the kind that promises to deliver ten fold later.
“Eat, Lottie.”
His command, reminiscent of him prompting me to drink the water after my near fainting spell at the spa, spurs me into compliance and I dig into my plate. Sex olympics with Noah Graves as a teammate. This is exactly the sort of challenge I can get behind. Or, under?
When my food is finished, I take my dishes to the sink and rinse them under a stream of warm water. Moving to ask Noahif he wants me to clean up while he gets ready for the day, I’m surprised to find him stepping towards me, his hands coming down and resting against the counter on either side of my hips.
“Oh,” I breathe, the warmth of his body growing closer still.
He leans down, his whisper graceful along my collarbone. “Now that you’re properly fed and we’ve established last night wasn’t a fluke, there are a few more things I can think of to keep between us.”
“Like the broken vase.”
His laugh rumbles in his chest and spreads along my neck, his breath warm. He traces my jaw with his lips before nipping at my earlobe. “Exactly.”
I loop my arms around his neck and we close the distance with a kiss, softer but still eager. I pull back, my voice hoarse as I remember my offer last night before he fucked me.
“I think there’s a favor I’m due to repay.”
His hand finds the curve of my neck, his thumb running on the lower pout of my lip, and my body warms, every point of contact hot under his touch. With the weight of what comes next held back by our new agreement, I’m ready to let him take me right here on the counter.
And then the phone rings—the ancient landline connecting us to the reason we’re here in the first place. Our jobs. The Barkers. Mending relationships and not accidentally giving our hosts a naked show when they come looking for us after the unanswered phone calls.
As it trills a second time, the ear piercing clang is like a shot of cold winter air stunning us back into reality. Noah steps back to pick up the vintage receiver.
He nods thoughtfully as someone sounding an awful lot like a stressed out Cheryl chatters in his ear and I make every effort to focus on making sure I keep my face neutral. This is growing more difficult due to the wildly inappropriate fantasies runningrampant in my brain. Was Noah’s shirt that tight earlier? What would that shirt would look like crumpled up on the floor behind him as he eats me for an early dessert?
“Yes, I understand completely,” Noah says, his tone serious. “Of course, I’ll send her over soon.”
He clicks the receiver down and turns to me with a wry grin. “Sounds like our plans will have to wait. Cheryl needs help. Something about preparing for the dinner party and a daughter who won’t be in town until tomorrow.”
“Too bad,” I say, pouting my lip out playfully. “I was really looking forward to that favor.”
Noah’s jaw feathers and I savor the satisfaction of knowing he wants me on my knees as much as I want to be there. We pause, the tension coiling tighter, like we are both doing the math on how long Cheryl expects me to take getting out to help her. His face betrays it as I accept it; regardless of how good I am, it would take too long.
While I expected there to be something wrong with the venue, or some other crucial part of tonight’s dinner, I am only half surprised when Cheryl welcomes me into the house with a warm hug and clarification that her requesting my presence has nothing to do with logistics and everything to do with playing make-over.
“Thank you so much for coming to get ready with me. Trinity said she’d be here, but her boyfriend surprised her with a late anniversary date and so she won’t be here until tomorrow. I already paid Darrin for two, and he’s being a little dramatic about coming all the way out for just me.”
