At this point, you’re just practicing necromancy on your sex life.
I’M FINE.
This is tragic. Truly.
Whatever.
If you ever get desperate, let me know.
Are you… volunteering?
Can I?
GOODBYE CARL.
Call me.
CHAPTER 27
COSMIC. CORPORATE. CONNED.
NOLAN
Rorie Adams is goingto be the death of me.
And I’ll probably thank her for my untimely end while she steps over my corpse in five inch heels.
The office scurries outside my door, phones ringing, emails pinging, someone in accounting laughing too loud at something that definitely isn’t funny.
Normally, this rhythm fuels me. Today, the noise presses against my skull. Because I can’t stop thinking about Rorie.
Not just her—us.
That tight body grinding against mine, needy and breathless. Rorie dragging herself across my cock, so starved for it. The burn of her skin. The broken sounds she gave me, like secrets too hot to hold.
And the way she sank into me as though her body had been waiting for this, for me
I fucked my hand three times last night.
Shower. Kitchen. Living room.
Each time, I was chasing the same high—reaching for echoes of a moment I couldn’t recreate, a feeling I couldn’t catch no matter how hard I tried.
And somehow, in all that intensity… and with Maya walking in, I forgot to ask for her number.
I mean,technically,I could have Tammy get it for me. But I don’twant it that way. I wantherto give it to me. Voluntarily. Directly. I want Rorie to take that next step, beyond the kiss, beyond the bathroom, beyond the night we nearly combusted in a single solitary moment.
I want it to mean something—something shechoseto give me.
Not something I stole because I could. Like the backstory I pulled on her.
Speaking of stolen things, that flash drive of Rorie’s life is still a loaded weapon sitting in my briefcase. Untouched. Burning a hole through the leather. I haven’t opened it. I don’t want to read about her.
I want her to tell me.Herself.
Fresh out of a relationship, deadline breathing down my neck, and my brain’s stuck on Rorie riding me like it was her full-time job.
The door swings open. Jackson strolls in.Fucking hell.
