Chapter 25 Tom
TOM
“Ithink I could probably sleep for a week,” Kat says, her head lolling to the side as we drive back to her house.
“You did great today. It looked like you sold out.”
“I did.” She beams, covering her face in her hands. “I’ve never done that before.”
“And the award. That’s incredible, Kat. Congratulations.”
“Thank you. It’s just so unreal. Today was a whirlwind.” Sobering, she adds, “I’m sorry about Nico. I just saw him and I got so nervous and—”
“You did exactly what I asked you to do. I’d rather have a hundred of those interactions where I can rule someone out rather than you be on the fence and discount someone who is an actual threat because you didn’t want to make waves.”
“It’s annoying when you’re logical,” she muses, her dress riding up her thigh as she moves around in her seat, her fingers absentmindedly tracing along the edge of the skirt.
So fucking tempting.
And after today, all I want to do is flip that dress up over her hips and bury my face between her legs.
Reward her for doing so well today.
Praise her for her accomplishments.
And punish her for tempting me to cross that line.
“What happened with Nico?” she asks, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, something that is definitely not helping my resolve.
“I offered him a job.”
“You did? Really?”
“He’d have to be screened more thoroughly than the five minutes Royce had but yes, sometimes it just happens that way.”
Releasing a breath, she sighs. “That’s good.”
“Why?”
“I was talking to his mom. He’s been struggling since his divorce, trying to provide some stability for the girls, and she hinted that he was looking to get out of that department.”
“How did you feel talking to him?”
“It was fine.” She moves again, the hem of her dress taunting me, begging for my palm to slide up and under the fabric. “It helped knowing you were close.”
The statement has my body buzzing for a whole different reason.
“Good.”
It’s a low rumble, and her tongue peeks out to wet her lips, and I’d bet my damn paycheck that little shift in her seat is so she can squeeze her thighs together.
The SUV groans as I slam it into park in her driveway, thankful that we actually made it here in one piece because fuck, she’s a distraction.
She unbuckles her seat belt but doesn’t make a move to get out of the car.
I don’t either.
With one hand on the wheel, I watch as she turns her upper body toward me, leaning her forearm on the console as her breasts strain the fabric of her dress.
Perfectly outlined.
Perfect for my hands.
And my tongue.
Her eyes are hooded as they dip to my mouth with interest before dragging up to meet my gaze.
She’s so close—closer than she should be and not nearly close enough.
I can hardly breathe, the pull between us undeniable and—
My phone buzzes, the sound amplified by the cupholder, making Kat yelp and turn away in surprise as I swallow a string of expletives as I pick the damn thing up. I’m running completely on autopilot, reverting to work mode without thought.
Like breathing.
“Oakden.”
“Are you back at the house yet?” Royce asks, his breathing labored like he’s been working out. I know he’s not because he only works out with Kinsley because she thinks they’re bonding.
“Just arrived,” I reply calmly, exiting the vehicle and walking around to Kat’s side to open her door. She slides out, the dress pushing up before falling back into place when her heels land on the driveway.
Those fucking heels.
“Call me back when you get inside.” He disconnects without waiting for me to respond as I lead Kat into the garage and into the house.
“What do you think about takeout for dinner?” I ask, desperately wanting to say fuck it to every responsibility and pin her to the wall with my body, ravage her mouth until she’s gasping and dizzy with need.
“That sounds great. Pizza? Or maybe barbeque?”
“Whatever you want.”
She rolls her eyes before taking a step toward me, spinning enough so her back is to me. “Can you help me with my zipper?”
I have no idea if she actually needs help or if she’s trying to rattle me. If it’s the first, fine. If it’s the latter, it’s working.
But I’m a professional so I brush her hair over her shoulder, my touch featherlight as I trace from her shoulder to the nape of her neck. For a guy my size, the zipper should have me fumbling, but I’ve never fumbled a god damn day in my life.
And I don’t plan on starting now.
Torturously slow, I drag the zipper a third of the way down her back, splaying my palm below where I stopped before leaning close. “All set.”
“Thank you.” It’s a breathy whisper, her lips parting as she turns, so close I could wrap my arm around her waist and pull her against me.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Looking away, she gives me a tight smile. “I think I’ll nap for a little while but don’t let me sleep too long.”
“All right.”
“Thank you. Again.”
“Anytime, Miss Harrington.”
Any damn time.