And now that I had a lawyer in my back pocket, who just happened to have a startling ability to research and assimilate anything—namely entertainment law or his new obsession, family law—I had someone looking out for me.
I was getting used to the idea.
It was weird and wonderful, even if I didn’t quite know what to do with it most days.
“Did you make enough for both of us?” His voice rumbled behind me just before his big hand slid under my shirt to find skin.
I sipped from my mug and nodded toward the teapot his mother had gifted to me when we’d gone to the tarot festival a few weeks ago.
“I’m not sure what kind of magic you add to your tea, but I ordered more of this stuff for our new office.”
“Your office,” I corrected him.
“Mmm.”
I rolled my eyes. I was not going to be working for him again. I wasn’t.
I was pretty sure.
I lifted Smoky off my shoulder and settled him on one of the chairs at the table. We’d stashed one of his half-dozen cat beds there so he could sit with us when we ate our meals. Because of course Preston wasn’t the kind of guy to eat on the couch like I usually did.
Smoky huffed out a sigh and settled after I gave him another few pats.
“I saw the contract.”
“Masterson can do a lot better than that boilerplate nonsense.”
“I’m an unknown, PMS.”
“It doesn’t matter. You have a year’s worth of drawings—”
“They have to be tweaked with Smoky. They’re not all done.”
He blew on his tea in the llama mug I’d given him. I couldn’t stop grinning especially since he was wearing the matching llama sleep pants I’d bought for him. Then again, the ripple of abs shifting as he leaned against the counter made just about anything appetizing.
“Hungry?”
His dark eyes went all heavy-lidded sexy times. “Always.”
“I need sustenance first.”
“Protein?”
I drilled a finger into those distractible abs. “Maybe later, ace.”
He lifted his mug for a sip. “Suit yourself.”
I went around him to the fridge and found the fixings for my version of Moons Over My Hammy. It was our favorite Sunday treat. Sometimes in the middle of the week too when PMS was feeling wild. Or sometimes a midnight snack after we needed a little fuel.
For such an uptight lawyer type, he had a very intense sex drive. I wasn’t complaining. I’d never actually been with a man who could keep up with me.
I set the broiler to preheat then started cracking eggs. PMS came up behind me, his hands slipping back under my-slash-his shirt once more. Long, warm fingers trailed over my midriff and down into my shorts. “Smells delicious,” he said against my ear.
“I haven’t started cooking yet.”
“Wasn’t talking about the food.” He nuzzled my ear, nipping the shell before kissing his way down my neck.
I shivered, then hissed out a breath as his very clever fingers found their way between my thighs.