“I know. Thanks.”
Our eyes met across the table, and we both managed small smiles.
She looked at her watch and sighed. “Guess we should get back to the salt mine.”
I nodded. “Yeah, we should.” As we stood and headed for the door, I hesitated. “T, promise me something.”
She turned around. “Sure, what?”
“You can’t breathe a word of this to anyone.”
“I told you I wouldn’t.”
“I know. You did. And I—” I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply anything.”
“No, I get it.” She touched my arm. “Not a word to anyone. I promise.”
“Thank you.”
“But if Cal’s mom asks, I—”
“Shut up.” I laughed and nudged her toward the door. “Come on. Let’s get back to work before they have a real reason to fire us both.”
“Eh, I’m not worried.” She pulled open the door and gestured for me to go ahead. “I’ll just blame you.”
“Yeah, you would.”
“Absolutely.”
Chapter Thirty
“Still tired?” Rick eyed me over the granite-topped island in his kitchen.
I absently swirled my barely touched glass of wine. “Is it that obvious?”
“To me it is.” He tilted his head. “You seemed like you were doing better. But now…” His brow pinched with palpable concern.
“I know.” I scrubbed my hand over my face. “I…”
“Come on.” He came around the island and slipped his hand around my elbow. “Let’s go sit in the living room. Take a load off.”
Wordlessly, I followed him, and we sat on his giant, plush couch. I set my wine on a coaster and leaned forward, elbows on my knees as I kneaded my temples.
Rick rubbed his hands over my shoulders. “Is there anything I can do?”
I lifted my head enough to meet his gaze, and despite the sick feeling in my gut, I smiled. “You’re already doing it.”
He smiled back, though his eyes didn’t really echo it. “I’m worried about you.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Will you?”
I swallowed. How do I prove it to you?
How to do I lie to you?
“Give me a few more days.” I sat up and moved closer to him. Wrapping my arm around him, I added, “Then we’ll be back to burning up the sheets again. But for the moment…” I drew him in, pressed my lips to his and hoped like hell he believed me.
If his kiss was any indication, he did. His lips parted for me, and he pulled in a sharp breath through his nose as he pulled me to him. Well, this much I could do. His soft lips, the faint sweetness of wine on his tongue—what wasn’t to love?
I couldn’t erase what had happened at work, or the consequences dangling over my head like the Pink Slip of Damocles, but there was no way in hell I was letting any of that kill what we had. Even if my libido had checked out, Rick’s hadn’t, and I’d be damned if he wasn’t satisfied tonight.
I pressed his shoulder gently. “Sit back.”
He did, and I moved to the floor in front of him. Eyes wide and lips apart, he watched as I unzipped his pants.
“Just because I’m tired,” I said with a grin I didn’t feel, “doesn’t mean you are.”
“I know, but I—oh, Jesus…”
I swallowed his cock as far as I could take it.
“Fuck, Jon.” His hand skated over my hair and rested on the back of my neck. “That’s…” He trailed off into a moan. I clung to his enthusiasm, his arousal, and did everything I knew he liked—stroking, sucking, running my tongue around the head. Even if my heart wasn’t in it, he didn’t have to know. And my heart was in making sure he enjoyed this. Making sure he was happy.
“And since this firm needs to do whatever it takes to keep Rick Pierce happy, so do you.”
I forced that thought out of my head and concentrated on teasing his cock with my lips and tongue.
Rick’s fingers combed through my hair. “That’s so good. Holy—” He exhaled sharply, his hand twitching against my scalp. “Your mouth is fucking incredible.”
I gave him even more. Anything he wanted. Anything he liked. Just as long as he kept groaning and gasping, shuddering at my touch and thickening in my mouth—all because I wanted him to be happy. No one else. No other reason.
“Please tell me I can come,” he slurred. “Please…”
I moaned the closest thing I could to an affirmative, forcing enough enthusiasm to mask how dominant I didn’t feel just then, and Rick sucked in a breath. His cock thickened between my lips. His fingers tightened in my hair. Semen rushed across my tongue, and the more Rick cursed and trembled, the more I felt like a fraud. I should’ve been turned on, pleased by his obedience and aroused by his orgasm.
But all I felt was relief that I’d faked it well enough to get him off and keep him from catching on that something was wrong. As I sat up and met his eyes, the relief ran even deeper—his eyes said he’d bought it. Crisis averted.
As I took my place on the couch next to him and he fixed his pants, he said, “What about you? You haven’t—”