Catch

The promise of that draws my tongue over my bottom lip. “Maybe I won’t make it until the end of the day.”

He steps closer until we’re almost touching. “Don’t lay a finger on that pussy before tonight. No pleasure without me, Maren.”

I nod, hopelessly in lust with this man. “I won’t.”

His gaze trails over my body. “This conversation is going to kill me.”

Huffing out a laugh, I lock eyes with him. “You’ll live, Keats. I promise that the wait will be worth it.”***Three hours later, I’m still catching my breath from the conversation I had with Keats in his office.

I’ve spent the morning reaching out to several of Keats’s New York based clients to set up dinner meetings with them.

My boss likes to keep the lines of communication open with his clients, and for him, that means face-to-face interactions.

I scheduled two lunches for next week and dinner with a client who asked me to thank Keats for the dollhouse he sent to his daughter for her birthday.

I’m responsible for that.

I saw the note in Keats’s online calendar that he wanted to send a dollhouse to the girl, so I made the call myself to place the order so it would arrive in plenty of time for her sixth birthday party.

Glancing up when the elevator dings its arrival on our floor, I smile when I see Fletcher Newman exit.

He holds up a hand in greeting to me.

I glance at Keats’s office and notice him on a call. His brow is furrowed, and his voice lowered as he speaks to a scout based in California.

I slide to my feet to intercept Fletcher.

“Hey, Fletcher.” I step to the side to block entrance to my boss’s office.

“Maren,” he says my name with a bright smile. “I was in the neighborhood. I thought I’d stop by and say hi, so hi.”

I let out a laugh. “Keats is on a call, but he won’t be much longer.”

He glances over my shoulder. “I came to see you.”

I’m surprised, but I don’t let it show. “What can I do for you?”

He produces a bunch of flowers from behind his back.

I gasp when I see the colorful mixture of roses, daffodils, and peonies.

“These are for you.” He shoves the bouquet toward me. “My mom wanted me to get them to say thank you for the gift and for helping me with the tux.”

I take them from him. “This wasn’t necessary, but thank you, and please, tell your mom thank you too.”

His gaze drops to the floor. “She said your heart is as big as Long Island.”

I laugh. “That’s big.”

“She told me that good people do good things.” He glances over my shoulder. “You’re a really good person.”

“She’s an incredible person.” Keats’s voice sounds from behind me. “Maren is one in a trillion million.”

Fletcher laughs. “Is that a real thing? A trillion million.”

Keats steps in place beside me. “According to my niece, it is. Maren is special. You’ll never find another woman on earth like her.”

I glance at him but drop the gaze once I feel my heart race in my chest.

“I think my folks want to meet up with you two again soon.” Fletcher draws both our attention back to him.

“Why don’t the three of you come to my home for dinner one night?” Keats offers. “We’d love that, wouldn’t we, Maren?”

We.

I’m beginning to love the sound of that word as much as I love the sound of us.

“We would,” I say softly.

“I’ll tell my mom to call you, Maren.” Fletcher sighs. “I need to cut out now. I’m meeting up with someone.”

“Thank you again.” I raise the flowers to my nose. “I’m going to put these in water.”

“I’ll walk you out.” Keats steps toward Fletcher but not before he skims a hand down my back.

It sends a shiver through me.

It’s a promise of what awaits me tonight and, hopefully, for many nights to come.Chapter 47KeatsThe heat of her breath gusts over my thighs.

I’m nude.

Maren isn’t.

She ordered me to my bedroom as soon as she arrived at my townhouse.

I wanted to make things easy, so I was only wearing a towel when I answered the door.

Her dress hit the floor before her foot hit the first stair on her way up here.

Her bra was dropped somewhere in the hallway.

She’s wearing red lace panties now. That’s what I see as I gaze down from where I’m sitting on the edge of my bed.

I’m leaning back. My palms pressed against the bed coverings as she holds my cock in her hands.

“This is perfect,” she says.

I huff out a laugh. “Damn right, it is.”

She circles the tip of her tongue over the crown in a long, slow, meant-to-torture-me movement.

“Jesus,” I spit out. “Please.”

“You owe so much money.” She tilts her head to give me a clear view of her tongue sweeping the length of my cock.