I come, explosively, the scream that comes out of me barely contained by his palm. He covers my lips with his own to smother it.
Lifting me off the door, he spins us round, lowering himself to his knees and lying me down against the soft carpet.
I stare upward at the ceiling, catching my breath and coming down from the high, hardly aware of what he’s doing until he lays down beside me.
I glance over at him, trying to gather some semblance of control when his arms wrap around me, pulling me against him.
Is he embracing me?
I’m lying on the carpeted floor of my boss’s office with his arms around me, and it’s the best feeling in the world. A voice in my head screams at me to detach myself, get up, and leave right now. But I can’t bring myself to do it.
Oh shit. Is this what falling for someone feels like? You’re such an idiot, Amelia.
Crawford places a gentle kiss on my neck, and it undoes me completely. I don’t look at him. I can’t.
“Did you give yourself a concussion?” he asks teasingly, running his fingers over the back of my head.
I huff out a laugh. “Well, if I did, it’s your fault.”
“Fuck, that was so hot.” His fingers brush gently over my stomach. We’re both still clothed from the waist up, and he looks at my blouse with obvious approval. That makes sense since he’s the one who bought it.
“You’re sure I didn’t hurt you?” he asks. “I got a little over-eager there.”
I shake my head. “It was great.”
He chuckles, but it’s a soft, kind sound. “I owe you an apology.”
I look over at him, opening my mouth to tell him he doesn’t, but he places a finger over my lips.
“You were right. I was being an asshole. I should never have spoken to you like that. You’d cooked for me and looked after me all day, and I threw it back in your face. I felt so much better because you were there, and I should have told you that.”
It’s sincere and heartfelt, his eyes sorrowful. I look at the ceiling, unable to meet his gaze.
“I shouldn’t have called you an asshole. You were sick. I’m just glad you’re feeling better.”
His fingers slide gently beneath the button of my shirt, caressing my skin.
“I finished the soup. It’s all I ate this weekend,” he says.
“Did your fever go down?” I ask.
“Yeah. Gerald and Alexis were looking for you after you left. I think you’re their new favorite person.”
I laugh. “Where did Gerald even come from?”
Crawford props a hand beneath his head, looking down at me. Even on the floor of his office, it feels impossibly intimate. I ignore the flutter in my gut as his hand comes to rest on my stomach. This isn’t about sex anymore; we’re having a real conversation.
“He was a rescue,” Crawford says softly. “Ridiculous, I know, for a man like me to have awhitepeacock. But I saw him on Instagram, and I fell in love with him. He’d been in a cage all his life, mistreated and broken. I flew him out to my apartment. He was so miserable when I first got him. The shelter didn’t want me to have him because he needs space to roam, but I did explain the size of my apartment and they agreed to let me have him. I take him out to the country as often as I can so he can run outside.”
“You have a place in the country?” I ask.
“I have four,” he says with a smirk. “But only one Gerald.”
“He’s very beautiful,” I say, and his fingers brush a piece of hair out of my eyes. I look at him and he smiles. It’s a gentle smile I haven’t seen from him before.
“More beautiful than I deserve,” he whispers.
I’m wondering what he means by that when he rolls on top of me again. I can’t help laughing as his rock-hard dick nudges against me.
