Page 75 of High Water

She whimpers, and my eyes fall to where her fingers tease over her clit. I’m desperate to help her chase that high. I’d drop to the floor and let her ride my face if I thought she would let me. But I’m too focused on obeying her orders to risk it.

“You came so hard. That was so fucking sexy.” Her eyes light as they survey the spent state of me. “And I—” She stops mid-sentence to suck in a sharp breath, and a moan follows, one that I swear I can feel in every fucking inch of my body. “I’m already so close.”

She eyes a spot on my stomach and leans forward. I lift my shirt out of the way for her, and her eyes widen at the sight of my skin. I’m not twenty anymore either. But I still spend a hell of a lot of my time doing manual labor, and I’m grateful for it when I see the way she’s reacting to the effects. The touch of her tongue to the sensitive skin of my lower abdomen sends a shiver down my spine, and I have to grip the arm of the chair to keep myself mostly still.

She’s amused by my reaction, so much mischief in her eyes just before they go soft. She rolls her lower lip between her teeth, muting another moan. She’s close. So close to coming for me, and I’m desperate to send her falling. I swipe the last few drops of my release onto my thumb and press it to her lips, urging them to part. She lifts her gaze to meet mine.

“Suck,” I demand, testing the limits of our arrangement. She’s the boss, but I’m fairly certain that as long as I’m good to her, she’ll give me liberties like this. Especially when it only lets me play into her hands further.

Her lips part, and I press my thumb against her tongue. She closes around it and sucks as I ordered her to.

“Oh fuck, honey. I can’t wait to have that mouth on me. You’re gonna send me to an early grave.” I curse under my breath as I feel the pulse of want radiating down my dick. I’m still so sensitive that it makes me rock forward in the chair. I have to steady myself to keep from falling out of it.

She moans around my thumb, her fingers working in circles underneath her panties, giving me the most torturous glimpse of her I’ve ever seen. Her hips rock forward to meet her touch, and then she comes with soft whimpers and moans until she falls apart completely, cursing under her breath as her body shudders with her release. A moment later, she collapses forward. Her elbows bent, and her arms crossed over my knees as she lays her head against her forearm. She seeks a deep, freeing breath, and then another as she comes down from the high.

“That was so fucking beautiful.” I risk breaking the moment by whispering into it.

“I needed it.” She makes a candid admission and lets out a melodic laugh. “If I can get up now, anyway.”

“I’ve got you.” I tuck myself back into my pants and pull them back into place before I reach down and slip my arms under hers and bring her to her feet. “There we go.” I can tell from the way her arms cross over her chest that she’s feeling vulnerable, and I grab her robe for her, slipping it over her shoulders as she puts her arms in, one by one. She wraps it tightly around herself and reties the belt.

“I should get some sleep. It’s been a long day. And we have a lot to start working on tomorrow, assuming your grandmother follows through on her promise.”

“She will.” It’s the only thing I’m confident of in this moment as I watch the mischievous look in Aspen’s eyes fade and the businesslike persona return.

“Good. See you in the morning.” She nods a farewell.

“Night, honey.”

She disappears through the door between our suites and shuts it behind her. I’m left on the other side, replaying every single minute of everything that just happened. I’m in shock that she’s broken her rule so quickly, but naively hopeful that I’ll have more of her in the future. I can do what she’s asking. If it means slowly working my way up to having what I want, that’s what I’ll do. As long as I have her in the end, anything is worth it.

THIRTY-ONE

Aspen

The next morning, I wake up angry with myself. The kind that even the scones with cream and berries and loads of heavily caffeinated tea on my room service tray can’t fix. A shower and putting on fresh makeup and doing my hair doesn’t help either.

I shouldn’t have read those two letters last night. I shouldn’t have had the whiskey he left. And I sure as hell shouldn’t have gone into his room half dressed. I made my own bed, and now I have to lie in it.

Memories from the night start to replay in a montage as I take the last sip of my lukewarm tea, and I press a hand to my forehead to try to block them out. How am I even going to face him today? Or hold any sort of high ground when I crumbled so far and so fast in just one night. Worse yet, how the hell am I going to live in the same house and be his roomie?

I was going to have to confront this whole thing head-on. Explain that I’d been overwhelmed by the day and a little tipsy and emotional. I bristle at the thought of admitting that. I’m not an emotional person. At least not when Bishop isn’t around. He comes into my life like a freight train, and suddenly, I don’t even know myself.

Nostalgia. That’s what it was. I was nostalgic. For a time that doesn’t exist anymore and people we can never be again. But it was fun to pretend for a night.

The memory of his touch skates over my nerve endings and sends a curling wave of interest through my body. The soft way he told me he prefers this version of me better. The look on his face. The dirty way he begged for me.

But none of it matters. I have to block it out.

I can’t remake the same old mistakes. I know better, and I have to do better. For Fallon’s sake, if not my own. I can’t afford to make a mess of this and have her lose her shot at getting to know Bishop. It would break her heart, and mine would break twice over for both of us to watch it happen.

I slip my heels on and check my reflection in the mirror. A quick trip to make this business permanent by turning in our marriage license, then another trip to watch Bishop and his grandmother sign the paperwork, and we’ll be set to get this whole thing underway. I toss the rest of the things off the counter into my overnight bag and sling it and my purse over my shoulder. When I open the door, Bishop’s already in the hallway waiting for me.

He looks infuriatingly good this morning, doing his little cowboy lean against the wall, and smirking when his eyes hit my heels.

“You look gorgeous. And like you’re going to rip throats out in a boardroom somewhere.”

“If I have to, I will. Hopefully, your grandmother’s lawyer has everything ready and follows through.”