She glares at him, so he picks her up and puts her on the back of the couch. All of that would’ve earned me a few bleeding scratches, but she just gives him the look of death, then jumps down and saunters out of the room.
Ian stretches. Then he slides his glasses back on. “How was your day?”
“Not as tiring as yours, apparently.”
He laughs. “Yeah, because you didn’t have to chaperone a field trip.”
Grimacing, I shake my head. “You know, sometimes I wonder why I let myself be a corporate drone. And then you remind me.”
“You’re welcome,” he mutters. He pushes himself to his feet, comes around the coffee table, and gives me a quick kiss. “You do look tired, though. You okay?”
“Yeah.” I wave my hand. “Long day.”
He eyes me skeptically but lets it go and gestures toward the kitchen. “Guess we should figure out something to eat. I totally forgot to start anything.”
“We could always go out.” As soon as I suggest it, I wish I hadn’t. I’m too fucking exhausted to think about getting back in the car and going out to where people are. “Or maybe order delivery.”
“Hmm. Let’s see what’s in the kitchen. It might be pizza night.”
“I’m fine with that.”
I follow him into the kitchen, and as he looks through the cabinets and the fridge, I pour myself a Coke. I sip it, but the taste barely registers. Big surprise, since not much has registered all day. Sleeping should be fun tonight. That’s usually the first thing to go when my mind’s trying to flail in too many different directions. Hooray. Especially since tomorrow is staff-meeting day, which means—
“Josh?”
I shake myself and turn to him. “Hmm?”
“I asked if you’re sure about pizza.”
“Yeah. Pizza.” I shrug. “Sounds good.”
He doesn’t reach for his phone, though. “Is everything okay? You seem kind of distracted.” His eyes narrow like he’s reading me, which he undoubtedly is. “And you seemed kind of preoccupied last night too.”
My stomach plummets.
Taking me gently by the hips, Ian looks me right in the eye. “What’s going on?” When I don’t answer, he asks, “It’s this thing with Michael, isn’t it?”
Bull’s-eye.
I exhale hard. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be bringing that home.”
“It’s kind of inevitable.” He tips my chin up. “Like it or not, there’s no way something like that isn’t going to affect you.”
“But it shouldn’t affect us. I shouldn’t be neglecting you.” I struggle to hold his gaze. “Do you realize we hadn’t fucked in like a week before last night?”
Ian smiles, and then he kisses me softly. “If it’s helping to un-fuck everything Steve did to Michael, then it’s worth it. I’ll be here when it’s over. How is everything going with him, anyway?”
“It’s…”
Distracting me from my husband.
Turning me into a goddamned basket case in the bedroom.
Making me second guess every time I want to touch you.
Ian touches my face. “Talk to me, Josh.”
I meet his eyes.
And there’s nothing to say. Nothing that can be conveyed in words.
So I kiss him.
Ian freezes. For a second, I’m scared to death he’s going to push me away and be the adult and tell me we need to talk first, and he’d be right, but…no. Not tonight. Talking can wait. I can’t.
I shove him back against the counter, and he doesn’t miss a beat—he’s got handfuls of my shirt, and he’s using them to hold me to him, grinding his hips against mine. His shirt falls away, and it probably hits the floor, but it could’ve ceased to exist for all I know or care because now my palms are against his hot flesh. I grab on to him, I dig my nails in, I hold him close so there’s as much skin touching skin as possible. I can’t even concentrate on kissing him, but I damn sure try. Ian’s all over the place too, breathing hard and grabbing on wherever his hands happen to land.
“Jesus. Fuck foreplay,” I murmur between kisses. “We need to fuck.”
Without a word, he grabs my hips, roughly turns me around, and now I’m the one up against the counter. He fumbles with my belt for a second and then shoves my jeans and boxers over my hips. My heart’s going crazy now. Yes, yes. Fuck me. The sound of his zipper makes me shiver. I grip the counter’s edge, digging my teeth into my lip. Fuck me now!
Ian reaches past me. Something rattles. Something topples. Then he grabs a bottle and pulls it back to him, and I catch a fleeting glimpse of it.
Was that…olive oil?
Oh hell, I don’t care what it is. I bite my lip, trying to stay standing, stay sane, stay breathing. I don’t care what he’s using as long as—
Ian presses his slick cock against my ass, and my mind goes blank. As soon as the head slides into me, Ian doesn’t hold back. He forces himself in, and I’d moan if I could breathe at all. With no prep or stretching, the burn is intense. I shove myself back against him, searching for more, desperately trying to drive him all the way inside me. It burns, it makes my eyes water, and I need more. More. More.