Page 86 of Over the Limit

Yes, infatuation is a real thing. It’s something I’ve had with other women before. Hasn’t everyone? But it’s different when it comes to Blair. It’s like I wake up wanting to talk to her and go to bed needing to hold her.

And it just feels . . . right. There’s no other way to describe it other than right.

A phone rings on her nightstand. It startles us both but it’s Blair who jolts out of bed, eyes wide and lips startled into a big O.

“Oh my God. Work,” she says as she scrubs a hand over her face, clears her throat, and picks up the phone on the fourth ring.

“Paolo. Of course I didn’t forget. I was running behind on another call.” She rises from the bed and searches for something—anything. I hand her my T-shirt from the floor beside me.

“Thank you,” she mouths as she puts her boss on speaker and pulls my shirt over her head.

Good. God.

My shirt stretches across her tits. Across the hardened peaks of her nipples pressing through the white cotton. All I can think about is dipping my head forward and taking a taste of them, but she’s already flustered from waking up late.

My needs can wait.

Hers come first. Always.

She’s flustered. I can see it on her face, in the way she keeps blinking. I find small satisfaction in knowing the sex was so good that she slept like a baby. The other part of me feels bad that we didn’t think to set an alarm.

But lucky for me that gives me one hell of a view this morning.

And I enjoy every minute of the next fifteen minutes as I watch her multi-task. She paces, moving out of the bedroom at times, and then seconds later I hear her fingers clicking on the keys of her laptop. She moves back into the bedroom where she peeks out the window at the sunshine outside. Her feet don’t stop as she runs a meeting in my T-shirt with the bottom of her arse hanging out.

She is in her own world and it’s so damn sexy listening to her answer questions off the top of her head and spout figures from memory that there is no way I’d be able to remember.

It’s like every single thing about her becomes more attractive the more I’m with her—her body, her mind, her personality, her emotions.

“Sounds like a plan,” she says and then groans as she drops the phone on the bed and her arse beside it. She covers her eyes with her hands and scrunches her nose.

I take her in. All of her. It’s like I can’t look away and frankly, why the hell would I?

The silence stretches until she lowers one hand and peers at me with curious eyes. “Why are you staring at me?” she asks.

“Because you’re beautiful.”

“Wrong answer,” she teases and adjusts herself on the bed so that her head can rest on my shoulder. “Try again.”

“Because you’re good at this,” I murmur and press a kiss to the crown of her head.

“What? The sex part or the work part?”

The being mine part.

I open my mouth and then close it. Down, boy. Words like that just might scare her away.

“How about all parts? The sex? No complaints there. The work? Paolo better have no complaints there considering he’s not letting you come to my races anymore. You in my T-shirt? You can have every single one I own if this is the visual I get when you wear them. The art?” She stiffens. “Impressive.”

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” she says and chuckles. “When I was on the phone, I was casually trying to figure out how to turn it over without you noticing . . . but clearly it would have been noticed.”

“It would have. I did notice and I love it.” I twirl a lock of her hair. Touching her is my new habit. “Maybe in time you’ll let me see some of your others on purpose.”

“Maybe.”

We fall silent. The only sound in the room is our breathing and the slightest rasp from my finger trailing up and down the length of her spine.

“I really should get up and work.” She sighs heavily. “I have so many calls to make and things to button up. My computer is calling me from the other room.”