TWENTY-FIVE
DEENA
Despite Cal’sincredibly luxurious bed, I woke up feeling as tired as usual. Fatigue was a constant in my life now, and I had the sneaking suspicion I was working myself too hard. Between the contract with Cal’s firm and my own clients, I wasn’t just burning the candle at both ends; I was hurling the candle into a bonfire and hoping for the best.
The fact that we didn’t do much sleeping didn’t help the situation.
Still, my body was deliciously sore, and I woke up with Cal’s heavy arm wrapped around my waist, his body protectively shielding my back, and my tiredness didn’t seem so bad.
“Morning,” he rumbled.
We were both naked, our legs tangled beneath the blankets. “Morning,” I replied. I took a moment to enjoy the absolute bliss of the moment. I was warm and comfortable and safe. I hadn’t felt this good in years. Maybe ever.
Cal’s fingers made slow circles over my stomach, his touch light. I closed my eyes again, enjoying his closeness. I’d hadboyfriends before, but no one for a while. A few dates had ended in hookups, but nothing had lasted since the year after I graduated college. This kind of slow, easy intimacy that didn’t hurtle us toward sex was as unusual as it was wonderful. I could’ve stayed in his bed—in his arms—forever.
“My sister will be wondering why I’m not downstairs,” Cal finally said, breaking the sleepy silence. “I wouldn’t put it past my niece to burst through the door and jump up on the bed to wake me up.”
I turned my head to look at him, my body still cradled against his. “Is that your way of telling me it’s time to get up?”
He grinned. “Don’t look so horrified about it.”
“I’m just realizing what I agreed to by staying here,” I said. I’d be having breakfast with his family. They’d met me at the office, but this was another beast entirely.
Cal could read my thoughts. He pressed a soft kiss to my temple and said, “They already love you.”
“That was before they knew I was the type of woman who sleeps with her boss.”
His brows lowered. I’d hurt him with that comment, and my heart pinched. “That’s not what this is, Deena,” he said, “and you know it.”
I nodded, nuzzling into him in apology. We moved slowly, touching each other softly, taking our time to stretch our bodies and enjoy the feeling of skin against skin.
“What happens after breakfast?” I asked in a low voice. Pulling back, I met his gaze. “At work. That email…”
His smile was wolfish and satisfied. “We’ll schedule a meeting with HR. Make it official.”
My mouth opened. Closed. I swallowed convulsively, and nodded. I wasn’t quitting or getting fired or throwing myself out of a window. I was making it official. With Cal.
Ohboy.
Finally, I let out a long breath. There were more pressing matters to attend to. “I need a toothbrush,” I announced.
“Second drawer on the left.”
His bathroom was stocked with everything I needed, and I was able to shower and make myself look half presentable. While he was in the bathroom, I gathered my clothes from where they’d been flung to far ends of the room. I had no underwear—Cal had torn it off in the office—and my shirt was wrinkled beyond belief. That was one way of making an impression with his family.Hi, I’m Deena. Remember me? Oh, the shirt? It’s crumpled because I had crazy hot sex with your brother last night.
That wouldn’t do. The shower in the bathroom started running, and I wandered to Cal’s closet. He was much broader and taller than me, but I could make that work. I grabbed a beautiful white shirt with a wide collar from a hanger and stood in front of the floor-length mirror. I rolled up the sleeves and spread out the collar, then tucked all the excess fabric into my skirt. No. Too bulky around the midsection. I pulled the shirt out and tucked in the front, then fished through my purse for all the stray earrings that I sometimes took off and forgot in there.
I did a slow spin to check out the view from the back, and let out a huff. Better than my crumpled shirt.
Movement made me look over at the walk-in closet’s doorway. Cal stood there, a towel wrapped around his waist, water dripping onto his shoulders from his wet hair. He watched me, eyes darkening. “That’s my shirt,” he said.
My heart took off. I swallowed. “I’m sorry. I can change, it’s just?—”
“Don’t you dare take that off, Deena,” Cal said, closing the distance between us. His finger trailed over my jaw as he tilted my chin up. “I like seeing you wearing my clothing.”
I knew that look in his eyes. I lifted my palm and pressed it against his bare, damp chest. “That’s close enough, big guy.”
His smile was wicked.
