Her smile twisted into a smirk. “And maybe three and four.”
17
LENA
My head still buzzed with deliciously good sex chemicals courtesy of Weston even as my to-do list started knocking. It was a subtle drum beat at the back of my mind, reminding me that there were a million things left to do today.
I needed to touch base with Nancy again. I needed to follow up with legal regarding the wind farm documents I’d sent last week. And most of all, I needed to track down those preliminary sketches.
As each line of my mental to-do list filled up, the peaceful post-coital bliss ebbed further away until finally the thoughts were too insistent to ignore. I sat up on my elbows, looking around for the towel I’d dropped when we’d stumbled in here. My cheeks flamed at the memory of how needy I’d been, how desperately I’d begged for him to touch me. But judging by the hunger written all over him, he’d wanted it just as badly.
“What are you doing?” Weston mumbled next to me, half asleep.
“Looking for my towel.” My eyes locked on it, thank God.
“Why?”
“Because the last thing I want to do is flash Agnes running down the hall to my room.”
“Why are you going to your room?” he complained as I shifted beneath the blankets. His eyes were closed as his arm locked around my waist.
I turned to look at him, taking in the perfection of his strong jaw, short, dark eyelashes, and prominent cheekbones. I reached out to brush at the tufts of dark hair that covered his forehead. “I have that little thing called work. I know the sex was mind-blowing, but maybe you remember what that is?”
He huffed, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth even as his grip tightened. “The sexwaspretty good. You’re welcome.”
I scoffed. “I think you should be the one thankingme.”
“I definitely remember putting in most of the effort.” His eyes flickered open, that smile twisting into a cocky smirk.
“That is a lie if I’ve ever heard one.”
He bent down and kissed my shoulder, my collar bone, the curve of my neck. “You’re sure?”
“Mm-hmm.” For a beat, that mental to-do list in my head quieted, my thoughts full of nothing but the feel of Weston’s lips against my skin. I’d never get sick of the sensation or the flutter in my gut or the way my heart raced. But then my watch buzzed, and I lifted my wrist, checking the notification.
“Finally,” I muttered.
“What?”
“They sent through the sketches.”
I made to get up, to slide from beneath the covers, but Weston’s lips continued to nibble at my neck.
“I really have to check in with Houston again,” I insisted.
“Do you?”
I laughed, the sound choked off with a gasp as he licked my pulse point. “Yes,” I whispered, getting a hold of myself. “And you should want me to. These areyourprojects I’m checking on. Projects I know you want to have running on schedule.”
“I do like the occasional bit of spontaneity in my schedule,” he said, letting his hand slip beneath the blankets, his thumb stroking my nipple. It pebbled immediately.
“Spontaneity is for after hours,” I laughed, catching his hand to halt his ministrations. “You wanted to see those sketches, remember?”
“Sketches can wait.”
“Plus, Agnes is going to throttle us. Her lunch is probably stone cold on the table.”
“Might as well make it worthwhile then,” Weston said cheekily, going in for another kiss.
