Chapter Twenty-One Skye
Untitled
Chapter Twenty-One
Skye
I stretch my arms and legs as my eyes flutter open, then look around the room to see if Kingston is here. The curtain has been drawn, and I can see that it's definitely morning. I look over to the clock on the nightstand and gasp when I see it's nine a.m.
"Oh no," I moan as I sit up, my hair tousled. I hear footsteps, and the door opens.
Kingston steps in with a cup of coffee in his hand. "Morning, sleepyhead."
"Oh my gosh. I slept so late. I'm so sorry," I mumble quickly, and he shakes his head.
"Don't be. We finished all the folders last night, so you're actually on schedule."
"I know. I just…" I yawn. "Oh my gosh. I can't believe I'm yawning, and I just woke up."
"It's because we didn't get that much sleep." He grins as he sits on the edge of the bed and hands me the cup. "I wish I could say we didn't get much sleep because of all the love we were making, but I am pretty satisfied with the fact that we finished all those files.”
"Thank you so much for your help." I sip on the coffee gratefully. I feel his eyes on my lips and don’t miss it when they move to my chest. I'm wearing another one of his T-shirts without a bra, and I can feel that my nipples are poking through the thin material.
He licks his lips and stands up. "I think I'm going to head to the shower, and then we can go into work."
"Aren't you nervous that people are going to ask questions as to why we are arriving together?"
He looks at me and shakes his head. "Why would I be nervous about that? We were working late."
"I know we were working late, but what if people think we were doing something else?"
"That's not my concern." He shrugs. "We weren't."
"Yeah, but we said we were going to keep personal personal and business business and if we show up together and I am… "
He stares at me and lets out a small sigh. ”You can go home. You can put on some fresh clothes and then come to the office when you're ready." He shrugs. "Does that make you feel better?"
I stare at him for a couple of seconds and nod. "It should make you feel better too."
"I don't care what people say about me around the office," he says. "The rule is there to keep us safe, not because I’m afraid of a little gossip." He shrugs and heads out of the room. "Let me know if you want me to make you some eggs or something for breakfast."
I shake my head as I slide out of the bed. "I'm okay. Thanks."
He looks down at my long legs and then gives me an impish grin. "Okay," he says, as he stands there looking back at me.
I'm disappointed that he didn't attempt to make a move, which is what I thought he'd do. I sip the coffee and walk out of the room into the kitchen area.
"You can turn on the TV if you want," he shouts from the bathroom.
"Thank you," I say as I head into the living room.
I place the coffee cup down on the coffee table and take a seat on his luxurious couch before reaching for the remote control.
I power it on and settle back into the couch.
It is so comfortable. When I am rich and successful and have a place that is large enough to accommodate such a large couch, I will get one just like this.
However, it may be in a different color.
I switch the channels until I find reruns of Reba and grab the coffee cup again. About ten minutes later, Kingston walks out with damp hair and a wry smile on his face as he looks at the TV.
"What is this?"
"You've never seen Reba?" I ask, staring at him incredulously.
"Um, I can't say that it's a show I would have been interested in watching, no."
"Oh, it's so good. It's about this single mom who works two jobs, loves her kids, and never stops." I laugh. "Oh my gosh. Did I just repeat the lyrics to the theme song?"
"I don't know." He shrugs. "Did you?"
"Well, I don't know. Anyway, she was married to this guy Brock, who's a dentist, and he cheated on her with Barbara Jean, who he's now married to and they have a son, but he still has three kids with Reba.
And weirdly enough, Barbara Jean, who's his mistress-turned-wife, is best friends with Reba, which is kind of weird because there's no way I would be best friends with the woman that my husband cheated on me with.
But I guess Reba's living her best life now because she met this guy and—"
He holds a hand up. "It sounds like a soap opera. Are you sure you’re not watching Days of Our Lives?"
"No, goofy. I mean, it does kind of sound like it's a soap opera, but…" I shrug. "I love it. I always thought that if I made it as an actress, I'd love to star in a show like this."
"You'd love to star in a show about your husband cheating on you with your best friend?"
"No, I mean like a sitcom. I think I can be pretty funny and, you know."
"So, is that one of your dreams then? To become a successful actress and star in your own sitcom? What would you call it, Skye?"
"No. Acting isn't the love of my life. Not like Lila.
It isn't something I feel like I was born to do, you know?
I enjoy it. I love going on auditions and well, if I made it, I wouldn't be unhappy.
But it's not like an end goal of mine. You know?
It's not like I want to see my name on a movie poster with Brad Pitt, George Clooney, or Henry Cavill.
Though I might not say no if it was Henry Cavill. "
He grins. "Okay then. So you're telling me Henry Cavill is competition."
"He could be," I say, laughing. "So, you know what you didn't tell me?"
"What didn't I tell you?" he asks.
"You didn't tell me who's planning the first fun night next weekend."
"Oh, I figured I would unless you want to."
"No, I want you to." I grin. "That way I know just how much I need to step it up or not."
"Uh, step it up? Please explain.”
"Well, if you fly me out to Paris for chocolate croissants in a little French cafe and take me shopping at Hermès and to a hotel where we make love looking at the Eiffel Tower, I'm not going to plan a picnic in my living room.
" I giggle. "I mean, I'm not going to plan a trip to London or Spain or anything. I don't have that kind of money, but—"
"Skye, what are you talking about?"
"I'm just saying, if you plan a really cool date…"
"So, a really cool date for you would be me flying you to Paris for chocolate croissants to make love watching the Eiffel Tower. Noted." He grins. "I'm not going to lie; that wasn't on my list of potential fun night activities, but I will keep it in mind." I laugh.
"What? You don't want to spend thousands of dollars on me just to get some?"
"I would spend thousands of dollars on you to not get some," he says softly.
His lips twist, and he turns away. "Anyway, I'll plan the first date. I will let you know what time to be ready."
"Also, let me know what to wear," I say.
"Well, the less clothes, the better." He grins.
"No, I'm serious. Like, I need to know if I should wear strappy heels or sandals or boots or sneakers."
"Boots?" he asks.
"I don't know, like mountain hiking boots if you're going to take me on some sort of rugged adventure."
"Where in Manhattan would we be going on a rugged adventure?"
"I don't know. Maybe if you flew me to Montana or to Colorado or even to Canada."
"Why do all of the dates you're thinking of have me flying you somewhere?" he asks. "Are you hoping to travel the world with me? Are you hoping to write your next book about me?"
"I've never written a book, so it wouldn't be my next book.
It would be my first book. And I wanted my first book to be about my adventures around the world with the love of my life, and you're not the love of my life.
You're my…" I pause. “Well, you're my boss with benefits. I think that's what I'll call you."
"I like it," he says. "So you don't want to write a book about your boss with benefits?"
"I could," I say. "Let's see how the first date goes. Then I'll decide."
"Maybe I really do need to step it up then."
You want to be in a book that I write?"
"I wouldn't say no, unless you're an absolutely shitty writer." He laughs. "Are you a shitty writer?"
"Would I say if I was a shitty writer?" I tease him. "Who would say that? Oh, I'm a shitty writer. I'm writing a book."
He laughs and runs his fingers through his hair. "I guess not you." He looks at me thoughtfully for a moment. "Okay, you should shower and head home so you can change, and I'll meet you in the office later."
"What? You mean I can't spend the rest of my day watching TV?" I grin.
"Nope, because it's Monday morning, and you're already late for work." He raises an eyebrow at me. "And you know what they say."
"No. What do they say?"
"You don't want your boss to catch you coming in late to work too many times, or you might get fired."
"But I don't think my boss would fire me for that, would he?
" I jump up from the couch and turn the TV off before taking a couple of steps toward him and stopping when I’m a few inches away.
He only has a white towel wrapped around his waist, and I place my fingers against his chest and touch a droplet of water on his nipple.
I place my finger to my lips and lick it, staring into his molten eyes.
"Are you telling me that you do not want to go to work right now?" he asks as I reach up and wrap my hands around his neck.
"I'm not saying that," I say softly as I stand on tiptoes and press my lips against his.
He reaches down, grabs me around the waist, and his pinky slides down into my panties and pinches my ass. I moan as I press myself against him. He lifts me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist as he pushes me against the corridor wall and presses his lips against my neck.
"What are you hoping will happen right now?" he asks as his lips move to mine.
"Not much," I say as I run my fingers through his hair and kiss him.