The Messenger (Professionals 3) - Page 80

“Oh, it was good,” she concluded, pulling herself up on my desk. “You are in too good a mood for unsatisfying dick. I feel like a proud mama when her little girl got her first big and stiff one.”

“I’m pretty sure moms don’t feel pride in that situation, Miller,” I told her, snorting. Mine had handled the situation with a sort of resigned understanding that I couldn’t stay little forever.

“Oh, what do I know? I never had a mother. Anyway, fuck yes. This is great news. Are you doing it like rabbits? Ew, is this desk tainted?” she asked, lifting her butt a little and eyeing the top of said desk like it might give her a disease of some sort.

“There are cameras in here, Miller,” I reminded her.

“I know. You kinky bitch.”

“We didn’t do it out here,” I clarified.

“Ooh, but you did do it here. Kai’s office, right? Desk? Chair? Wall? Shut up,” she said, slapping my arm with the back of her hand when I must have looked a little guilty. “All three?”

“Well, not the desk.”

“No worries. There is time for that. He wasn’t sappy, right?” she asked, wrinkling her nose at the very idea. “Like… he didn’t get cheesy and cry…”

“No, he didn’t cry,” I told her, leaving off the part about how I had gotten a bit emotional.

“What’d he do this morning? Bring you breakfast in bed? He seems like a breakfast in bed sort of guy. I need to find me one of those.”

“Well, stop dating drug dealers then,” I suggested with a smile.

“But where’s the fun in that? Come on. Did he?”

“He made me coffee while I organized his junk drawer.”

“Oh… hot?” she said, brows drawing together. “I mean… whatever turns your gears, you freak.”

“It’s not like that,” I said as she jumped off my desk. “It’s…”

“Remind me never to get you office supplies. It might turn you on too much. And, no offense, Jules, but you’re not my type.” She moved down into the hall, popping back out with a big smile. “Congrats on the fucking though. I am going to go tease your man now.”

And, yeah, that was how the office learned that Kai and I were together.

And how everyone suddenly had jokes about office supplies and organization tools.

Kai – 2 weeks

I couldn’t get used to it.

I probably should have already.

Gotten used to seeing her in my place, around my things, with her hair down, with her bare feet.

But I hadn’t.

Every time I walked into a room and found her there was like a jolt to my system that brought with it this almost overwhelming warmth, this sensation of rightness.

Even if she was down on her knees meticulously scrubbing my oven like a lunatic. At least there actually was some grease in there for her to clean up since I did cook whenever I was home to do so.

“I have a housekeeper.”

“I don’t mind,” she declared, voice muffled a bit since her head was inside the oven.

Moving closer toward her, I found a row of cleaning products lined up. Yes, a line of them.

“This an all day project?” I asked, enjoying the view of her jean-clad ass sticking out at me, the way her tank top had ridden up a bit, showing off a sliver of her back.

“Just an hour or so,” she declared like that was a totally acceptable amount of time to devote to one appliance.

“Want company?” I asked, moving to sit down on the floor near her, not caring if it made me seem clingy to want to be close to her as much as possible.

“Sure,” she said, turning her head over her shoulder to smile at me a bit. “Tell me about your childhood,” she suggested. At my blank look, she shrugged. “You know everything about me. I want to know more about you.”

“Not too much to tell. Lived with my parents as a kid. Technically, but not really. They worked in a factory. If I saw them two or three hours a week, that was a lot. And that time was usually full of them scolding me about doing better in school, so I could get a better life. I did get to spend some weekends with my grandfather who taught me martial arts. But other than that, I kinda raised myself most of the time.”

“You were always alone?” she asked, climbing out of the oven, sitting back on her heels, sad eyes meeting mine.

“Don’t feel sorry for me, honey. I turned out just fine.”

She hesitated at that, knowing it was true. I might not have had bedtime stories and hugs and bottomless love, but I managed to get through the system relatively well-adjusted. “Well… you can share mine now,” she declared, giving me a somewhat wobbly, insecure smile, like she was worried about rejection.

As if there was any going back for me.

Tags: Jessica Gadziala Professionals Billionaire Romance
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