Page 47 of Saved By the CEO

I nod.

“What if I went down on you?”

My mind short-circuits. All I hear is one long, flat beep.

Be cool about this. Do not act too eager.

“Yeah,” I say, in what I hope is a casual voice. “We could try that.”

He studies me for a moment. “Are you sure?”

I make a noise of agreement.

Andrew puts his hands on my thighs and pushes them apart. Then he climbs onto the bed and settles between my legs.

Holy fucking shit.

My heart races as he leans in, maintaining eye contact with me the entire way down. I feel his breath against me before he speaks. “Be good and relax for me now, Carly.”

Then he lowers his mouth to me.

Every nerve ending in my body lights up.

He never breaks eye contact, and the unwavering attention sends heat racing over my skin. Andrew Bennett between my thighs, looking up at me like that, is the most erotic thing I have ever seen in my life.

He laps at me, slow and deliberate, and I moan.

I pull my T-shirt up and slip a hand beneath my bra, finding my nipple. Every thought I had before falls away. The only things that exist are this bed, this room, and Andrew’s mouth moving over me like he has all the time in the world.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice low against my skin. “You’re doing so well.”

I whimper.

Actuallywhimper.

He gives a quiet, devastating little laugh, then goes back to circling his tongue over my clit. A second later, one of his handsleaves my thigh. His finger traces my entrance in slow, torturous circles before finally sinking in.

I grip his hair and arch off the bed.

The pressure builds fast after that. “I’m so close,” I gasp, fingers tightening in his hair. “Andrew, I’m?—”

The release hits before I can finish.

For a few seconds, I lose track of everything. My body tenses, then shudders, and Andrew doesn’t stop. He keeps one hand firm against me, holding me there as I ride it out.

When I finally look down at him, spent and panting, he’s smiling up at me. Dimples and all.

“Want me to send Josh a tutorial?”

I throw a pillow at him.

THIRTEEN

Iwake up in heaven. At least, that’s what it feels like.

I am enveloped in silky-smooth sheets, buried under the fluffiest comforter known to man, and my head is perfectly supported by a two-hundred-dollar pillow.

I let out a pleased sigh.