Page 280 of Manhattan Bossholes

“Oh. I need to shave.”

He was usually clean shaven, but there was the occasional morning in the office where he turned up with some scruff, and frankly, it was sexy as hell. Distracting, but sexy. “Don’t shave,” I said. “I like it.”

“Dee says I look unprofessional when I’m scruffy.”

I turned over in his arms. “I think it makes you ruggedly handsome.”

He rubbed his scruffy cheek against mine. “I’ll direct Dee right to you when she complains, then.”

“I’ll make a complaint box just for her.” I lay there in his arms, right in that space between awake and asleep, and I knew if I let it, Trent’s deep, even breathing would be enough to lull me back to sleep. Was I actually awake at all? Was this all some kind of super-vivid dream? How had I gone from hating this Coffeezilla of a man to sleeping in his bed? Stacy was going to shriek her head off when I next saw her. In between rounds last night, I’d managed to send off a quick text so she wouldn’t worry about the fact I hadn’t come home. I knew she would have waited up with a glass of wine to hear all about it.

Spending the night, I’d written. Better than we imagined.

She’d replied with about forty emojis that I hadn’t had the energy to decipher in the middle of the night.

“What are you thinking?” Trent asked, his fingers moving up and down my arm before dancing across my breasts, over my ribs, down around my belly button. They were gentle little caresses. I knew he wasn’t trying to start anything, but he could easily get me going like this. I didn’t want to say Trent Saunders made me needy, but damn if the man didn’t know how to use those hands, and I was already a little desperate for the next time I would be at their mercy.

“I was thinking about the fact I have to tell Stacy I was still wearing her dress while you fucked me.”

He hummed in amusement. “I’ll pay for dry cleaning.”

“She probably won’t even care. She’ll be proud or something equally as ridiculous.” My stomach growled loud enough for us both to hear.

“Hungry?” Trent asked.

“Apparently I’m starving.”

He wiggled his eyebrows in a way that made me break into laughter. “Probably should have provided you with sustenance.”

“I’m surprised I haven’t withered away,” I teased. “You worked me pretty hard last night.”

“I know.” He kissed my shoulder. “Should we get breakfast?”

I tucked his impossibly soft sheets up around us. “You’re not going to nip out to your fancy kitchen and whip me up a breakfast buffet?”

Trent glared at me playfully and rolled me onto his chest. I stayed there, running my fingertips along his jaw, and he took the opening to let his hand roam down my back, gently squeezing the curve of my ass. “I’d really prefer not to scare you away with my cooking.”

“You can’t be that bad in the kitchen.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m horrible,” he conceded. “I mean, I’ve survived all these years on my own. But I think there’s a difference between slapping together a sandwich and providing you with a real meal after all that work you did.”

I smirked. “I was doing a lot of work. I was practically carrying this team.”

“Carrying the team?” Trent snorted. “Sure you were.”

I pressed the back of my hand to my forehead, feigning exhaustion. “I was basically working for two all night.”

Trent tightened his hold on me, and I laughed. “I think I also put in some serious effort.” His lips tugged at my ear. “I don’t remember hearing you complaining much last night. It was a lot of ‘Trent, oh God, mm-hmm, right there, just like that.’”

I knew he was teasing me, but damn if those breathy words repeated in my ear didn’t start an ache throbbing between my legs. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Right.”

“Anyway, back to food,” I said, shoving my curls out of the way. I didn’t even want to think of what a mess my hair must be after last night. It was going straight into a bun if I could find an elastic around this place.

“Back to food,” Trent agreed. “I’d really prefer to take you out for a nice breakfast. So I can be sure you’re eating something you actually want.”

“I could probably be convinced to leave this bed.”