Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
I laughed. “You say that like I’m a different kind of wet than washing in the shower.”
His hand snaked down between my legs, and he pushed two fingers inside me. “Isn’t it?”
I had to put both my hands against the tile. “I think you might be a sex addict.”
“I think I’m addicted to you.” He moved his mouth to my ear, and his voice turned raspy. “Are you sore?”
I was a little sore. But his fingers glided in and out of me, and it didn’t hurt too much. “Maybe a little.”
Gray stopped and pulled out. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine.” I turned around and hooked my arms around his neck. “Totally worth it.”
He smiled and leaned his forehead against mine. “Oh yeah?”
I nodded. “It’s a good kind of sore. The kind that makes me smile when I feel it instead of wince—because I remember what last night felt like.”
“Thank you. It’s a gift to hear that, Freckles. It really is.” He gently kissed my lips. “Turn back around. Let me wash you instead.”
I sighed with true contentment and handed him the soap before turning back to face the warm stream of water.
He lathered up and started to wash my back. Quite quickly, his hands were concentrating on my lower half, fingers breaching into my butt crack.
“You know, if you’re sore…” His voice was sultry—pure sex—as his fingers traced down farther, stopping at my rear entrance to rub a circle and apply a bit of pressure. “…there are other ways I could bring you pleasure.”
“Fiend. I think today we’ll just stick to you washing my back. I need to get home and work. You’ve been a distraction the entire weekend. A good distraction, but I need to catch up before I get to the office tomorrow.”
Gray’s soapy hands rose to my shoulders, and he rubbed. “Can we do that together?”
“What? Work?”
“I have to go to the west coast tomorrow afternoon, and I’m not ready to give you up yet.”
“Sure. But you might get sick of me. We’ve been together all weekend.”
“Sweetheart, I plan on us being together a hell of a lot longer than a weekend.”
Chapter 22
* * *
Layla
Gray: I think you’re turning me soft.
I tossed my glasses on my desk and sat back in my chair with a schoolgirl smile. The text was a welcome break after the Monday I’d had. I’d spent the morning in a tough deposition and early afternoon reading a boring case in my office. What should have taken me a half hour had already taken me almost two. I really needed to finish up because I had a new client coming in soon.
Layla: I hope it isn’t a part I like hard…
Gray: Shit. Don’t say hard. I just landed in L.A., and I’m in a cab on the way to meet a potential business partner. Now I’m going to have to make a stop at my hotel first.
Layla: LOL. What part of you is turning soft, fiend?
Gray: The inside. Is it possible to be pussy-whipped after only being inside said pussy for two days? I just heard a damn Taylor Swift song while walking through LAX and thought of you.
I sighed.
Layla: What song was it?
Gray: Fuck if I know. I said I was pussy-whipped, not a pussy.
Layla: I think you need counseling. What time are your meetings today and tomorrow?
Gray: Tonight at five and the other at eight, L.A. time. It’ll be late your time after my dinner meeting ends, so I’ll call you tomorrow. I moved up tomorrow’s meeting from the afternoon to the morning so I can take an earlier flight home. I want to make it back to take you out to dinner tomorrow night.
Layla: Okay. Any special reason?
He typed back.
Gray: Yes. I miss you.
The man could seriously make me swoon. Just as I went to type back, my secretary buzzed. “Your three o’clock appointment is here.”
I hit the intercom button on my desk phone. “Okay. Thanks. Give her the standard retainer agreement to read over while she waits. I need about ten minutes to clear my desk and run to the ladies’ room.”
“You got it.”
I allowed myself another minute to read back through my text exchange with Gray, treating the messages as fuel to get through the dragging day. For a woman who’d been terrified of a relationship with him not too long ago, it certainly seemed like I’d gotten over it. We’d spent Friday and Saturday evenings together at different parties, then spent Saturday night through Sunday afternoon having sex as many times as humanly possible. Sunday evening we’d both caught up on work while sitting across from each other in my living room. We’d passed takeout containers back and forth and shared silent smiles until we finished at eleven o’clock and turned in together. It felt like the best of both worlds—the excitement of something new, yet the comfort of something familiar. I even kept his dog when he left town this morning, rather than force the sweet little guy into a doggy hotel.