As I explain to him what he has to do, he nods eagerly. A little too eagerly. I barely have time to analyze his facial expression—he’s definitely planning something—when we start the operation. I pad back until there’s considerable distance between us, and then, bracing myself, I run in his direction. When I’m right in front of him, Nate fastens his hands around my waist and lifts me expertly. I stretch out my arms above him, closing my eyes.
“We did it!” I exclaim. Nate twirls me around once, and when it’s time for me to get back on the ground, I finally learn what his plan was. Instead of just placing me back down, he lowers me slowly until my pelvis is level with his face, swiping his tongue over my exposed center and luring a moan from me that is equal parts pleasure and embarrassment. Damn, I was so caught in the moment I didn’t realize I was flashing him. But he foresaw this from the second I explained what the lift entailed.
“You’re too cunning,” I tell him, fastening my robe once my feet are firmly back on the ground.
“You just wanted your pussy on my face, admit it.” He licks his lips. My intimate spot pulses in anticipation. “Knew you couldn’t resist me.”
“Well, you certainly put dirty in the dancing.”
Unable to hold back any longer, I guffaw. He joins me seconds later, laughing in earnest, his troubles forgotten, which is exactly what I was going for.
Chapter Twenty-One
Nate
“I live for moments like this,” Clara says Wednesday two weeks later during our lunch break. We decided to head out of the studio today, and we’re sitting in a Mexican restaurant, wolfing down our food. Well, I’m wolfing down my food. Clara is clutching a magazine to her chest. She just finished reading out loud a review of a segment we did about six months ago, which was broadcast last week. “All those long hours, lack of sleep, and frantic pace. It’s all for this.”
“It’s definitely motivating to have our work acknowledged,” I agree, taking a huge bite from my burrito.
“Do you want to keep this?” She nods toward the magazine.
“Nah, I’ll buy one for myself. You keep it. You’re going to read it about half a dozen more times today.”
She smirks. “Make it a dozen.”
“Do you plan to do any work in between?”
“Don’t be an ass.”
I shrug, pointing to the to-do list on my phone. “That’s waiting for us.”
Clara finally sets the magazine next to her plate, concentrating on her food.
“I’ll get to it right after I read the review a couple more times. By the way, are you going to take the weekend off again? Not to be nosy, but I need to know if I can relax again or if I’m going to receive frantic e-mails from you at unholy hours.”
“You make me sound like an ass.”
“No, I make you sound like someone who didn’t want to have a private life, which you now do. I wholly approve of it, by the way. I’m learning to have a private life too. It’s glorious. So, can I expect more free time?”
“So this has nothing to do with you wanting to know what I’m doing on my weekends?”
“Well, if you volunteer that information, I’ll gladly listen, but it’s not why I’m asking.”
I’d believe her if Clara wasn’t the most curious person in the world. In fact, she deserves a prize for not questioning me about Alice until now, especially since she seems to have become very close to Pippa. I’ve overheard them talking on the phone a few times, making plans.
“So?” she asks, almost bouncing off her chair.
“Eat, Clara, or we’ll never finish lunch.”
“Okay, how about this? I eat, you talk.”
“Deal. First of all, you don’t have to answer my e-mails on weekends. I just send them to you so you can get started on them Monday morning.”
Clara swallows her mouthful of food, then says, “Yeah, but if I wait until Monday, you’re grumpy. You tend to bite people’s heads off when you’re grumpy.”
“I’m taking the weekend off,” I assure her.
“Hallelujah! I’ve been telling you to do that for years. Can you tell me who finally convinced you?”