“And tired.” Once the glass is back on the table, I grab my blazer and step closer to him to get my bag. My chest is pressed onto his side, his warmth seeping through our clothes, and when I look up at his dashing face, I’m tempted once more to spend the night with him. “I’ll text you,” I say, my voice just as conflicted as my mind.
He knows I’m torn. And I know that he knows because my torment seems entertaining for him, amusement veiling his handsome features. But he doesn’t insist or give me the slight push I need to stay. Instead, he presses a soft kiss right on the corner of my lips.
“I’ll see you around, red.”
I swallow, failing to chase away the lump in my throat, and then rip myself from his bewitching proximity. As I walk out of the room, it takes everything in me not to turn around and glance at him one last time. Especially since I can still feel his presence between my legs—a pleasurable ache accentuated by every step.
There was a reason why I wasn’t supposed to see the same person twice. I don’t want towantsomeone.
But it’s too late for that, isn’t it?
Chapter Twelve
Jake
Bookkeeping isn’t offering any distraction. My mind would rather drift to anything but the numbers displayed before my eyes. With a deep sigh, I move away from my laptop, leaning back into the chair.
My gaze falls on Mulligrubs, peacefully sleeping on her cushioned bed in the corner. Oh, to be a lazy Rottweiler without care in the world for anything other than scratches and food. As if she knows I’m silently judging her, she lets out a huff in her sleep before licking her drooly chops.
Yes, I’d like to be as unbothered by things as she is. But my brain is scattered, my focus entirely gone. Five days. I haven’t shagged anyone in five days. And not because I am overwhelmed with work like when this usually happens. No, it’s all because I have a certain redhead stuck in my brain, and I can’t imagine banging anyone else. But I should go to The Devil’s Court tonight, pick up a consenting woman, and bring her home to take the edge off.
That’s not working, though. Every evening since I met Gen there, I’ve tried to get her scent out of my nose, her moans out of my ears, and her taste out of my mouth by fucking other women. I even went as far as to bring a pretty brunette to the baby room, but as soon as we entered it, my desire for the chick faded away. Even when she kneeled to suck me off. And despite her enthusiastic efforts, I barely got half hard before pulling her onto her feet, away from my limp dick. The brunette’s shrill noises as I finger fucked her to make up for it were dull compared to the sweet, desperate, and raspy moans Gen lets out when I make her come.
My eyes land on the hair stick in the pen cup. It’s a souvenir I accidentally brought back from our first night. The small accessory has been sitting there ever since, a taunting reminder of the sexy redhead.
I’m not usually this single-minded, especially not when it comes to women, butfuck, I can’t get the proper little Miss Kensington out of my head. And what drives me even crazier is, whyher? I get it to some extent, but it still shouldn’t be happening.
Instead of being respectful and chivalrous, I should have made her stay the night. She wanted to go to my place as much as she wanted to set some boundaries and leave. Winning her over would have required barely any effort. But how I felt at that moment worried me a little. After I nut, I usually want to distance myself from whoever I was fucking, not spend more time with them.
At least this time, I know I’ll see her again. That list of hers is my insurance. We have fifty items to go through together, minus a handful. I’ll have to be careful, because doing them six at a time would be a waste.
With a frustrated grunt, I return my attention to the bookkeeping software on my screen. What am I doing? Oh, right. The quarterly report.
I’m barely getting back into it when my phone buzzes on the desk. I jump on it like an idiotic teenager, only to see it’s Killian in the group chat.
Kill
The whisky lads are coming on Friday at six.
Eli replies before I can.
Eli
In the morning?
Kill
In the evening, eejit.
Eli
Ok, no need to be a dickhead about it.
Kill
No need to be as thick as shite.
Kill isn’t a morning person, and noon hasn’t passed yet. Since those two love to bicker like an old couple, I exit the conversation and mute it for an hour. I’ll let them kiss and make up in private.
