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“Tell me,” I demand simply, frowning up at him like a child.
He ducks down and kisses me, slipping his tongue inside my mouth and gently rubbing it against mine. I move my arms so that I can reach up to him but he pulls away before they get there.
“You know what I want,” he says quietly. “You know that I want you.”
I watch him warily for a few moments and then I spin back to the screen, intending to look at the flights he pulled up, but as I turn my eyes catch on something else on his desk. From behind me I know that he won’t be able to see exactly what I’m looking at so I study the page for a minute, heat climbing up my cheeks.
It’s a brochure from the jeweller’s in the town above Pine Hills. But it’s not open on a page for necklaces – it’s open on a page for rings.
He’s spending his free time browsing for engagement rings.
Butterflies flutter in my belly and I quickly look away, pretending that I didn’t see anything. But I did see. It shows me just how serious Mitch is and how sincere he’s being. It shows me that his intentions are long-term and as pure as they get. He isn’t reading from a script and telling me what I want to hear. In fact, he’s working behind the scenes and putting in overtime. I didn’t even ask him to buy our plane tickets – he simply remembered and decided to do it to save me the hassle.
I click on the ticket type and select the word ‘Return’.
Suddenly my chair is being pulled back like a reverse husky-sled and I squeal as Mitch spins it around before dropping to his knees. He pulls my thighs apart so that he can position himself between them. He wraps his hands around both sides of my behind and shoves me forward so that my heat knocks against him, and then he’s cupping my jaw and kissing me hard and firm.
I lock my arms around his neck and tangle my fingers in his hair, and he moans into my mouth, his hands kneading me eagerly. Warm contentment spreads deep in my belly, my body pulsing with pleasure because I’ve just pleasedhim.
“You’re staying with me?” he murmurs, his hands roaming to the front of my thighs and sliding up the fabric of my skirt. His fingers leash in the sides of my underwear and he grips at them so roughly I hear a tear.
“Yeah,” I whisper back. “I could stay in the bungalow for the weekdays and come to your place on the weekends–”
He shakes his head, his shoulders bunching with restraint as he stops himself from ripping my panties clean off. “You’re staying at mine, all week and all weekend. We’re gonna move your stuff into my room, and I’m gonna have you in my bed. You can do your writing remote, right?”
I nod. “Yeah, I can work from anywhere–”
“Good,” he grunts. “So if I need to travel to a site in a different county you can come with me.”
I blink fast with surprise. “Oh, well–”
I thought I knew what men were like. They like space and testosterone. Not too much oestrogen or they get kind of depressed. And lots of distance. Because distance makes the heart grow fonder, right?
But Mitch has me unravelling the theory. He leans back over to the desk and quickly works his fingers across the keyboard. In less than a minute he’s booked us two return flights to LA, completely unfazed by the crazy total sum for such a short trip. Then he clicks on a separate tab showing luxury private hotels in the area.
“I still have a place in LA,” I tell him, rubbing my thumb in gentle circles over his swollen shoulder muscles. “We don’t need to book a hotel.”
He glances up at me as if he’d forgotten about the fact that I still have a life that isn’t here, but he quickly recovers, simply nodding and then shutting his laptop down.
He stands to his feet and walks around the room, shutting the front door to the office to stop the icy stillness drifting in. Then he bolts the lock for another reason entirely.
I cross one leg over the other and lean back, suddenly drowsy with lust as he turns to face me. His body is a broad dark mass against the doorway. He walks slowly over to me and I uncross my legs, his eyes automatically dropping down, making his chest heave and still.
“Are you gonna keep your place?” he asks me without looking up.
I shrug. “For now, yes. It’s convenient for meetings and press things for when I’m down there. Plus, I already paid off my mortgage.”
That makes him look up, surprised and impressed. He’s probably working out how much money I’ve made in such a short space of time to be able to afford a property that’s classified as prime real estate in Los Angeles.
“I’m a big girl,” I murmur to him huskily.
I see a smile teasing the corners of his mouth, the creases in his cheeks dimpling with amusement.
“Yeah?” he asks, pulling me up from his seat once he reaches where I’m at, his handsome face towering a good foot above me.
I crane my neck to look at him and he wraps his hand gently around the side of my throat.
“Yes,” I whisper, not feeling like such a big girl anymore.
