“No one has ever turned me inside out the way you do,” I say against her mouth, then tug her lower lip with my teeth. “You make me forget myself. You make me fucking crazy.”
“You do the same for me,” she says, and whimpers as she circles her hips again. “Please move.”
“You need me to move, baby?”
“Yes.” She pushes against my hands, using my strength as leverage to lift her hips, creating just a tiny bit of eye-crossing friction.
“Ask me,” I reply.
I pull out slowly and push back in and stop again, making her frown.
“Ask me better than that.”
She narrows her eyes on me, earning a cocked brow from me. “Eli?”
“Will you please—” she clenches her muscles on my cock, making me swear under my breath. “Please fuck me?”
“Now you’re just using the dirty words to get what you want,” I say, but comply, moving slow and steady, in and out, and she smiles up at me. A gorgeous, full-on, happy smile, and my heart catches.
“I love the way you feel inside me.”
Heart fucking catches.
I can’t respond. I’ll say something ridiculous. Instead, I pick up the pace and grind my pubis on hers, hitting her sweet spot, and watch her come apart beneath me, pulling me with her.
I release her hands and lie on her chest, in her arms. I can hear her heart, thundering in her chest. I can’t see it, but I brush my hand down her side, over the sexier than fuck tattoo there. I am enough the way I am.
She’s so much more than enough.
She sinks her fingers into my hair and holds me tight.
“You’re a sweet man, Eli Boudreaux.”
She kisses my head, and suddenly, everything in me simply calms. This feels…right.
It feels like home.
And that’s ridiculous.
“I hate to have to be the party pooper, but I really do have to go back to work,” she says softly, but continues to hug me to her, gliding her fingers through my hair. I could sleep like a baby, right here.
“I have work too. But this feels good.”
“Hmm,” she agrees. “I like your hair.”
“My hair?” I ask with a laugh.
“It’s soft. And it feels good in my fingers.” She rubs my forehead with her fingertips and I sigh. This woman can touch me as much as she wants, whenever she wants. “I like it.”
“And I like your ass.”
“Are you making a list?” I ask with a grin.
“Shh.” She continues to make me sleepy and calm with her fingers. “I like your ass. It’s firm, and you have the sexiest dimples right above it.”
“I’m happy you like them.”
“You have lots of likeable parts.”
“What about the most important part?” I ask and glance up at her to wiggle my eyebrows.
“God, you’re such a man.”
“Hey, Van, it’s Eli.”
“Two calls in one day? I’m fine, Eli. Seriously.”
“I’m happy to hear that, but that’s not why I’m calling this time.”
“What’s wrong? Do I need to come to the office?”
I laugh and shake my head. “No. You’re not coming in to work. I need your advice. You’re Kate’s best friend. I want to do something nice for her. Surprise her. She’s been working hard, but I don’t know what to do. Give me ideas.”
There’s a long, pregnant pause.
“Is this Eli Boudreaux? My brother?”
“So, what exactly is happening between you and Kate, Eli? And don’t tell me it’s none of my business.”
“It’s none of your business,” I reply, just to rile her up.
“Kidding. Honestly, I like her. A lot. We spend time together.”
“You’re fucking her.”
That pisses me off for reasons I can’t explain. Yes, I am fucking her, but it’s more than that, and to hear it put like that makes it sound…cheap.
“We are engaging in a physical relationship, yes.”
“Is that it?”
“Are you going to help me or not?”
“I will if you answer my question.”
I sigh and drag my hand down my face. I washed up after she left my office, but I swear I can still smell her on me, and it makes me want her all over again.
This is getting ridiculous.
“She’s not like the others, Vanny,” I say quietly…voice aloud for the first time what’s been brewing in my head for weeks. “I like her. I respect her. And I want to do something special for her.”
“Are you going to ask her to stay when the job is done?”
“No,” I reply without hesitation. Van sighs.
“Okay, stubborn ass, I know exactly what you should do.”
Her head is bent over her desk as she reads through what look like financial reports. She doesn’t even see me as I lean against the doorjamb, watching her work. It’s early evening, at least two hours past the time that the last person left for the day.
I do believe I’ve met my match in the workaholic department.
“I see you,” she murmurs without looking up. Is it any wonder that I’m crazy about her?
“It’s time to go, cher.”
“I have a few more things before the weekend.”
“Kate, it’s almost eight on a Friday evening. It’s the weekend.”
“I’m almost done.”
I cross to her desk and tip her head back with my finger under her chin. “Shut it down. I have a surprise for you.”
Her eyes flare in happiness. “You do?”
She begins plunging her hands in my pockets, patting me down. “Where is it?”
“This is a new side to you.”
“I love surprises.”
“What is this?” She pulls the half-dollar out of my pocket and gazes at it. “Does this say 1860?”
“It does. Dad gave it to me when I was just out of college. He used to carry two of them. He gave the other to Beau.”
“What does it mean?”
Smart girl. “They were handed down from my great-grandfather as the first measurable profit from the company. And Dad said that it was to remind us that every penny we make is important, whether it be fifty cents, or fifty million dollars.”