“You really want to talk about this right now?”
She shrugs.
I lean forward slightly. “So what’syourplay gonna be, Adams? A mood board? A viral dance? Maybe you’ll create a line of pet wear for him, name it after his childhood dog.”
Her lips part, and all I can think about is sliding my cock betweenthem. Gripping her hair, watching her take me deep, those pretty lips stretched around me, wet and eager. Possession with her on her knees and me coming down her throat.
Then her phone lights up on the table with a text from her sidekick friend and co-worker, Jeremy.
I don’t mean to look, but I do.
If you don’t sit on that man’s face, I swear to God, I’m going to do it for you—I will change his world and I won’t feel bad about it.
My grip tightens around my glass so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t crack.
I look at Rorie. She doesn’t breathe. Doesn’t blink. Only stares at that message until eyes flick back to mine.
I don’t say a word. Don’t need to.
She doesn’t smile. Not quite. It’s more of a grimace. A you-caught-me slip type expression that she’s already trying to bury beneath a glare so cutting it could slice granite. The phone might as well have slapped her across the face.
In a way, it did.
Color floods her cheeks. Her spine straightens. She shifts in her seat, like movement might erase the message. I’ve got news for her.Nothingis going to erase that message. Not from her screen. Not from my memory.
And now I can’t stop thinking about her thighs caging my head. Her nails digging in my hair while she rides my face like it was her throne and my mouth demolishes her in the best possible way. I’d die happy serving under her reign.
Yeah.
Good luck pretendingthatdidn’t happen.
Her cheeks are pink from embarrassment. Her eyes lift again and narrow.
I don’t look away. I drink her in. And smile.
CHAPTER 24
TEXT. SEEN. DEAD.
RORIE
I can’t breathe.
Not properly, anyway.
Jeremy’s text. Nolan’s reaction.
If mortification were a game show, I’d be in the bonus round, sweating under the lights and praying for a commercial break.
Hesaw it, and now he’s sitting there, arm draped across the back of the booth, bourbon in hand, eyes on me, watching, waiting for me to make the next move.
My face is hot. My blood is pumping louder than the music.
And my drink?
Long gone.
I sucked that shit down about five seconds after I realized he read Jeremy’s words.
