"No," he rumbled in my ear. "I have to fuck you. Now."
"Why? Are you marking your territory?" I'd only been half serious with the comment, but he pulled back and the look in his eyes said that was exactly what he was doing.
I wriggled out of his gr...
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Shawn was already home, jacket discarded, when I got back to the penthouse that evening. He met me as I stepped out of the elevator, greeting me with a lush kiss that swept me off my feet.
“Well, hello to you, too.”
“You’re late,” he said against my lips.
“And?”
“I worried.” His mouth swept across my cheek and down toward my earlobe.
My eyes widened both in surprise and at the yummy thing he was doing to that sensitive spot below my ear. “That something had happened to me?”
“That you weren’t coming.”
I pushed him back to meet his eyes. “Why Shawn Corey Carter, did you worry I’d stand you up?” It was silly to even think about. “Don’t you realize I’m the kinda girl that sticks?”
He leaned back in to rub his nose against mine. “If you acted as smart as you are, you would have stood me up weeks ago.”
“Good thing I don’t act smart.”
“Good thing for me, yes.” He released me and took my purse off my shoulder, which he stowed in the coat closet. Then, weaving his fingers through mine, he tugged me after him through the foyer toward the living room.
“Guess what.” I admired his back as I followed him, his taut muscles visible through his dress shirt.
“You don’t have to work tonight.”
I stopped short, my hand slipping from his grasp. “How do you always know everything?”
“I don’t.” He turned back to face me, a smile toying on his perfect lips. “But where you’re concerned I make an effort. Kendrick called me this afternoon and asked if I approved of you making your own hours.”
“And you said, ‘Yes, because then I can conform my schedule to Beyoncé’s so we can fuck as much as possible.’” I laughed at my horrible imitation of Shawn’s voice.
“I said I thought it was a good idea.” Instantly, I was back in his arms. “But I was thinking what you said.” His mouth circled above mine, teasing.
“I love you.”
He moved tighter into me. “I hope that my ability to change your working hours is not the sole basis of your fondness for me.”
“It is not. Trust me.” This time I kissed him, licking along his upper lip.
When he pulled away, his eyes were clouded with desire. “Dinner’s ready, precious.”
He led me to the dining room where the table was set with a bouquet of white orchids, two lit candlesticks, an opened bottle of wine, and two place settings at one end.
