He built me up so high then sent me soaring, a final lash of his tongue sending me crashing into pleasure. Then Elijah shoved down his smart trousers, climbed onto the table, and thrust into me. We rolled on the polished surface where only minutes ago, Tucker had been handed his ass.
I knelt, dress rucked around my waist, and rode him.
Triumph smacked another orgasm into me when he groaned and clutched my thighs, coming inside me hard.
I draped on him, breathing heavy but so, so satisfied.
“I love you,” I said.
“Oh fuck, that was my line.” Still inside me, Elijah sat up and kissed me thoroughly. “Baby. I’m so gone for you.”
We hugged, hearts thumping together, holding each other tight.
When we cooled, Elijah brushed a strand of hair from my cheek.
“You do realise,” he said softly, “this is the most unusual board meeting I’ve ever hosted.”
I smiled. Because ruining Douglas Tucker’s day? That had been satisfying. But screwing Elijah Westwood on top of a boardroom table? That was the real highlight.
At last, I was ready to give him my whole heart, just as he’d given me a gift this afternoon. It was precious, and careful, and the opposite to the fire I typically led with, but when he held me close, I knew I was right. And the game had given me everything I’d dreamed of.
Epilogue
Bonnie
Elijah drove. That should’ve been my first clue that something strange was happening.
Normally if we were going somewhere fancy there was a driver, a schedule, and Mitch hovering nearby with the expression of a man calculating lost productivity.
Tonight, it was just us.
The road out of Deadwater curved along the cliffs, the river flowing somewhere far below in the dark. The breeze brought the scent of pine trees.
I watched the road for a moment before glancing at him. “You realise this is the opposite direction of every restaurant in town.”
“I’m aware.”
“And you told me we were going to a celebration party.”
“We are.”
I folded my arms over the sparkling dress I’d bought with my own money, my payment, generously given, for the groping-rich-men party that felt like a million years ago now. I’d saved the other half of it to help pay for my first consignment of underwear, planned at last. I’d relented to letting Elijah stock my line in Crowley’s—they owed me after all, and he now owned them—but the hard work had all been my own. It might have only been a small order to start with, half my designs needing remaking, but it was mine.
“You’re being suspicious.”
Elijah smiled, his gaze still on the road. “Have I ever done you wrong?”
I snorted. “You literally chased me through the streets the first time we met.”
“Technically, you ran first.”
“Details.”
The road narrowed. Grass brushed the edge of the lane. Then Elijah slowed. A wooden gate appeared ahead. It swung open automatically.
I blinked. “What’s out here?”
“Wait and see, Miss Impatient.”
