The Dirty Series 2(49)

I raise one shoulder half an inch, then lower it again. “Whatever I damn well please.”

She laughs. “You have to have some idea.”

“Do I?”

Angelica looks to the side, then turns over and hops out of bed. I can’t take my eyes off the full curve of her ass, the lithe, petite legs as she heads for the master bathroom. “There’s a toothbrush in there for me, isn’t there?” she calls out to me over her shoulder.

“You’d better hope so.”

“You’d better hope so,” she says, then closes the door behind her. Water runs for a few minutes, and when Angelica emerges she’s gathered her hair at the nape of her neck in a loose bun. Her hips sway as she walks. Damn, she’s confident, and she should be. Her body is fucking perfect. There is nothing in the world she would ever need to feel embarrassed about.

For a minute, while she crosses the room toward the sofa and armchairs, I’m so transfixed by the movement of her body that I forget all the other shit that’s been bothering me.

Angelica’s next move is to pick up the gray robe that someone—probably Elizabeth, my personal shopper—thought would be a good addition to the weekend wardrobe. In one way, she was right—it fits Angelica perfectly, the hemline of the fabric dropping only a couple of inches below her firm ass, the belt emphasizing her slim waist. In another way, I hate that thing because it’s hiding that luscious skin from me.

I throw back the covers, exposing my naked body, my already-hard cock, and Angelica’s eyes widen. She curls one end of the belt around her fingers. “Was this a mistake?” Her tone is innocent, but her expression is all heat.

“At least it won’t be hard to fix.”

She comes toward the bed and climbs on, kneeling next to me. I sit up and press my lips against her collarbone, and give into the urge to wrap my hands around her waist.

“Wait.”

I pull back and watch while she licks her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Tell me something about yourself first.”

What? “You know everything there is to know about me.” It’s a lie and we both know it.

“I know you’re rich,” she says, sitting back on her heels. “I know you’re sexy as hell. I know you take what you want....” She reaches out and runs her fingers down the muscles of my arm. “But we’ve never talked about anything important.”

The laughter comes unbidden. “We’ve spent two evenings together. Let’s not get too hasty.” I gesture toward the rest of the room. “Isn’t this enough for you?”

She appraises the space around us, then shakes her head. “Listen, Jett, I know this is only...temporary.” Angelica swallows hard. The pause is just long enough for me to disagree with her. I don’t. The very last thing on earth I need to do right now is give her the idea that this is going to go anywhere. It’s not.

Just in time to save herself from excruciating awkwardness, she speaks again. “We’ve spent two evenings together and I really don’t want to triple my commute. It doesn’t give me a lot of wiggle room in the mornings, and my boss....” She trails off. “Anyway, I want to know more about you. Anything about you.”

“I’d rather be fucking you right now.”

Heat rises to her cheeks, and she cuts a glance at my cock. “Aside from that. Where....” Angelica’s breathing is shallow. “Where did you grow up?” She tears her eyes away from my body and returns her gaze back up to my face.

That’s when I see it—the struggle. I have to assume she wants me, too—but her desire to know more seems entirely genuine.

The tiniest piece of my heart shifts, makes room.

She’s only going to be here for a while.

I can give a little during that time.

“In an apartment on the Upper East Side, until I was ten.”

“What happened then?”

I take a deep breath and give her what she wants.





Chapter Fifteen





Angelica



Monday is never my day.

Hadley is, damn the woman, up my ass about the last minute delays on last week’s package.

“Do you anticipate similar delays with any of the pieces for this week?”

“I don’t, no.” I turn to scan the calendar app open on my computer screen. “I’ve built in extra time to confirm all the necessary quotes, and the designers have been getting the graphics back at least four hours ahead of schedule.”

She purses her lips, squints at my computer screen. “Angelica, I don’t have to tell you that I was pretty disappointed in your performance last week.”

Then why are you telling me? “I completely understand, Hadley. It won’t happen again.” There’s absolutely no point in reminding her that I have company-guaranteed sick time, or that once in a while it’s appropriate for people to have a life outside of work.