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“What is that?” I ask, knowing it’s a stupid question. I know what it is, but the question is, why is he getting a mattress delivery?
“It’s our new mattress,” he replies as he begins to close the distance to me, a soft yet determined expression on his face. “Now you have no excuse not to sleep in my bed.”
My heart melts into a puddle that he scoops up and claims.
I joked last night about not wanting to sleep in his bed because I know Kent is as big of a whore as me. Unlike me, I know he brings women back to his apartment, which means that mattress is like the Moulin Rouge of rotating, leg-kicking, dancing braless women.
He got me a brand-new mattress! It’s possibly the sweetest and most disturbing thing a man has done for me.
When he comes toe to toe and looks down at me, I can’t help but reach up and cup his still-damp cheek, the scruff from his unshaven jaw rough under my fingertips. I push up on my toes and bring my lips to his. As soon as we kiss, I feel like I’m floating up, up, and away like Dorothy, but eventually, I know I’ll have to leave Oz and return home.
His hands wrap around me, cupping my ass and tugging me higher so he can sink his tongue inside of me and deepen our kiss.
Eventually, I pull back and place my hand on his bare chest, “I’m still not fucking you, Kent.”
He flashes me a goofy smile, his lips slightly red from our kiss, “Who said anything about fucking? I'm a changed man now; I only make love, not war, Siren.”
I swat his chest and step back. “Battles are much more entertaining than peace treaties,” I reply, knowing that my mind is preparing to fight a huge battle with my heart. The question is, will I survive if my heart wins?
Chapter 55
Poppy
“You’re cute when you’re upset.” I grin and pat down Julian’s tie, taking my time to feel the silk under my fingertips.
“I hate this,” he whispers. “I hate that I can’t just take you away.”
My exhale is slow and steady, unlike my emotions. “You’re the CEO. You can’t miss this meeting.”
He cups my cheek, “Maybe I should just quit then. My jet can be ready within the hour.”
I snort, “Now you sound more like Kent.”
His lips tug up, “Yeah. You’re right.”
I have a meeting with one of his uncle's men; it’s going to be short and sweet. All I have to do is describe the phony maintenance man and what happened. Julian has a meeting with the board he cannot miss, and as sweet as his longing to be by my side is, I don’t want our relationship to interfere with our jobs.
He has to present the final contract and guidelines for Sterling Defense's third-biggest contract to the board. Currently, they dominate the US market, but thanks to Kent, there's interest from the UK in their products. This opportunity is monumental—an international expansion. For Julian to miss a board meeting that's set to discuss this very deal could be misinterpreted as a lack of commitment or, worse, suggest there are issues within the company that are being hidden, like the issue of a crazy Russian blackmailing him. Julian needs to present a strong, sexy, confident face to the board. Ok, maybe not sexy, but it does help.
It’s a major moment, one we should celebrate. Actually… “After today, let's go out and celebrate. We could all use an adult-ish drink.”
“I don’t know,”
I tug at his tie, “It's that, or you suffer the taste of my microwaved steak. Trust me, your jaw is going to be sore.”
That gets me a grin; even if it doesn’t reach his eyes, I’ll take it as a win.
“Ok,” he leans down and kisses me quickly. HR knows about our relationship, but at work, we keep it hands-off unless we’re in his office alone. It’s not because we're shy; it’s more for the reason that when he starts to touch me, I don’t want him to stop. “We’ll go out.” He agrees.
With one final squeeze of his hand, I watch him stride towards the door, every inch the leader he is. We’ve both got our own dragons to slay today, but there’s comfort in knowing we’re fighting them together.
***
One hour into this interrogation—okay, not an interrogation, but it sure feels like it—and I'm mentally kicking myself for not investing in industrial-strength deodorant. Seriously, why am I sweating like I'm the one on trial here?
Oh, right. The six pairs of eyes boring into me across the stark, impersonal boardroom table—that's why. The room's too chilly, yet here I am, sweating. Go figure.
"Can you all maybe not stare at me like that? You're cranking up my anxiety levels," I snap, more out of discomfort than actual annoyance.
