Then he dropped the bag and came through the door. I jumped him and wrapped my legs around his waist as he hooked his arms under my ass and kissed me long and hard. He walked to the kitchen and set me on the counter so he could use his hands to cup my jaw and kiss me with such deep, serious intent that the entire region between my legs went hot and wild. He smelled like Dane and misty rain and excellent, excellent top-level cashmere. I ran my hands through his hair as I kissed him, feeling its new short length.
I pulled my mouth away from his. “This is a good haircut,” I panted, still clinging to him like a barnacle.
Dane grinned again, turning me into hot wax. “I called Tyrell.”
I punched his shoulder. I had begged him so many times. “You asshole.”
He kissed me again, shutting me up. Then he lowered his mouth and kissed his way down my neck, his beard rasping against my skin in the most shivery way. “You’re brunette,” he growled.
“Yes, I am.” I squeezed him tighter with my thighs, keeping him where he was in case he was thinking of leaving.
Dane’s hands moved to my hips. “Are these… track pants?”
“They’re couture,” I argued, because four-hundred-dollar track pants are not track pants.
“Whatever you say.” His clever hand moved to the waistband and dipped beneath it, sliding over where I was wet and hot for him. I gasped and he moaned against my skin as if he’d just spent months crossing the Sahara desert. “Fuck, I missed this.”
I nipped his earlobe and unzipped his sweater, desperate to have him. The dreamy state of the past few weeks had vanished in a second. “Hurry up,” I said.
His fingers moved over me, his fingertips sliding inside me. “Pee on a stick first.”
“No way. If I wasn’t pregnant, you got me pregnant when you walked through the door. Now get your pants off.”
He kissed me, his hand still moving. “Test first, then dick,” he said. “That’s the order of things.”
I groaned in frustration, moving my hips so his fingers would hit the right spot. “Your hand, then. Make me come or I won’t do the test at all.”
“Are you negotiating with me?”
“Maybe. Am I winning?”
His reply was to move his thumb right there, the sensation so good and so strong that I dropped my head back and closed my eyes. He held me tight as I spiraled higher, and then I came apart, shaking and gasping for breath. He kissed me again as I spun back to earth.
“Do you like the house?” he asked, sliding his hand out of my pants.
I sat on the kitchen counter, feeling stupid and wrecked. And happy. Dane was here, he was amazing, and he’d just made me come within sixty seconds of walking through the door. “I love it,” I said. “I never want to leave.”
“Then don’t.” He adjusted his jeans and looked me over. “This place suits you.”
“The orgasm suits me.” My cheeks were warm. Was I blushing? I’d never blushed at a compliment from Dane Scotland before. Something must really be wrong with me. I tried to regain my dignity and get back to business. “How did it go with Kaito Okada? Tell me you wore the Zegna. That’s my favorite thing I bought you.”
Dane blew out a breath and scrubbed a hand through his hair, which drew my attention to it again. I wasn’t used to Dane with short hair. “Can we do the pregnancy test and talk about it later?”
“No.” I tensed and pressed my knees together. “What happened? Tell me now. Was he a jerk? Did he hate the restaurant? Was it a disaster?”
“We never got to the restaurant,” Dane said. “We drank, and then he wanted to go to the hangar where his private jet was parked, so we went. And he offered me a job at Okada.”
My jaw dropped. “Leave Tower VC? That’s crazy.” I looked at his expression. “Or maybe not so crazy. Are you saying you’re going to do it?”
Dane looked tense, and my stomach dropped. Okada was in Japan. I might be pregnant right now, as we were talking, and Dane might be going to Japan.
I’d just gotten him back, and now I was going to lose him?
But Dane didn’t say that. What he said was worse.
“I’m leaving Tower VC no matter what I do,” he said. “Ava, I told Aidan about us. About eleven years ago, and now. He’s kicking me out of the company.”
All this had been happening while I was napping? Jesus. “He can’t do that,” I said, sliding off the kitchen counter and walking to the living room, looking for my phone. “That asshole. Why didn’t he call me? I’ll call him right now.”