Imagine With Me (With Me in Seattle 15)

I find myself softening toward him more every day. Shawn is a thoughtful man.

I boost myself up onto the countertop and fist his shirt, pulling him between my legs. My hands glide up his chest and over his shoulders, and then my fingers dive into his hair as his head lowers to mine.

“Coworkers with benefits is the best idea you’ve had since I met you,” I say against his lips.

His arms encircle me as his mouth plunders mine. Without breaking the kiss, he reaches over and unplugs the skillet, making me grin.

“I didn’t give you permission to wear this,” he says.

“Oh, sorry.” I slip the shirt over my head and set it on the counter next to me. “I’ll be sure to ask next time.”

But he’s no longer listening to me. His green eyes are the deep color of grass on a rainy day as his gaze roams my chest, and then moves farther down. His hand glides up my thigh, and then two fingers are suddenly and expertly inside me. I gasp and hold onto his shoulders as he moves his hand.

“Ah, shit.”

“Watching you get worked up is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” His voice is Irish when he’s turned on, and it only turns me on more. “That’s it, love. I fucking love it when you flush like that. Just for me.”

He kisses my neck, drags his tongue up to my ear, and I’m helpless to do anything but ride his hand.

I fumble with the shirt next to me, and when I find the condom, I hold it up to him.

“Fuck me, Shawn.”

He growls, deep in his throat. “Good girl.”

He can’t tear it open fast enough, and when he’s finally sheathed, he pulls me to the edge of the countertop and easily slides inside me, making us both moan in delight.

“Like a damn fist,” he mutters.

I can’t respond. I can only hold on as he fucks me—on his countertop. And when we’re finally sated and catching our breath, he takes my face in his hands and looks me deeply in the eyes.

“For as long as you’re here, you’re mine. Understand?”

“Yeah. Back at you.”

He grins and kisses me deeply, then tugs the shirt back over my head.

“If you stay naked, I’ll keep fucking you, and we’ll never eat.”* * *Mom: Hello dear. I haven’t heard from you in a couple of weeks, so I thought I would check in.

I read the text and roll my eyes. I love my mom. We get along great, and since my dad died about five years ago, we’ve grown even closer. She’s awesome.

But she’s also fabulous at guilt trips. The phone works both ways. If she wants to talk, all she has to do is call.

Rather than text her back, I dial her number and press the phone to my ear as I watch Shawn changing the oil in his car.

I didn’t know men still did that. Apparently, he does.

“Hello, Lexi.”

“Hi, Mom. You know, if you want to talk, you can always call me. I’ll answer and everything.”

“Well, I don’t know if I’m interrupting your work.”

So, I send texts filled with parent guilt. Got it.

“How are you, Mom? What’s new?”

“Oh, I’m fine. Your aunt Darla and I went to the farmer’s market this morning, and I found some fresh strawberries, so I’m going to make some jam. I’ll be sure to save you a jar.”

“Yum, sounds awesome, thanks.” I sip my lemonade and watch as Shawn lifts something that must be heavy. I can’t tell what it is, but the muscles under his shirt bunch deliciously with the effort.

Goodness, he’s a sight to behold.

“How are things in Seattle?”

I have to look away from the gun show happening just outside the window so I can concentrate on the conversation at hand.

“I’m actually staying just outside the city on an island with Shawn O’Callaghan, the screenwriter I’m working with.”

“Oh, I thought you were staying in the city.”

“Well, I was, but we weren’t getting much done because of distractions and noise. This is much more comfortable.”

I don’t mention that we’re still not getting much done because he’s a stubborn ass and we can’t seem to agree on anything when it comes to the project.

“So, you found a nice hotel, then?”

“No, I’m actually staying at his house. He lives on the island.”

She’s quiet, and I can hear the disapproving side-eye.

“I’m staying in his guest room, Mom.”

I mean, as of last night, I’m staying in his bed, but my things are still in his guest room, so it’s not a complete lie.

“And his family owns a really fun Irish pub here on the island. I’ve been helping out in the kitchen.”

“You’re working in a bar?”

She sounds scandalized. It’s awesome.

“I guess so. But I’m just helping out. Shawn took me with him the first night we were here, and I really enjoyed it, so I’ve been tagging along. They’re nice people, Mom. You’d like them.”