If I Can't Have you

(33) Cookie?

"Cookie?" Jemima offers, walking into Tommys office.

He hadn't eaten yet today, it was almost six in the evening. A cookie could suffice. It was better than nothing.

"Yes, thank you," Tommy says, taking one from the plate, and biting into it, "so how did it go?"

"So well, he is adorable... very inquisitive, very smart, but he is so cute," Jemima smiles.

"Must be something in the genes," Tommy responds.

"He asked about you." Jemima states, her cheeks tinted a shade of red. Even though they were together, the man took any opportunity he could find to flirt with her... not that she was complaining.

"How does he know about me?" Tommy asks.

"Evander told him I had a partner, he wants to meet you so he can inspect whether you're good enough for his sister," Jemima teases, as Tommy stands, walking around his desk, placing his hands gently on her waist so he could pull her closer and brush their lips together, "I better be on my best behaviour then."

Jemima gnaws her bottom lip, looking up at him through hooded eyes. It had been over two months, nine long weeks since they'd done anything but kiss. His wound was essentially fully healed, it was nothing but a mere scar now.

"Do you know how much I want to bend you over my desk and fuck you until you have no option but to leave nails marks in the wood just so I can have a constant reminder of you when I'm trying to work?" Tommy groans.

"One fantasy at a time Mr Shelby," Jemima says, running her hands over his shoulders, "I'll be at my house deciding which of your shirts to wear from my collection."

"You don't know what you're doing to me?" Tommy breathes out, his hands needily massaging her hips.

"Don't I?" Jemima smiles, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, removing herself from his grasp, "I'll be waiting."

"Not for fucking long," Tommy replies.

-

Tommy doesn't know what he wants to do to her first when she answers the door in nothing but one of his shirts, her hair swept up in a ponytail, with a glass of whiskey in her hand.

He removes the glass from her hand, placing it on the drawers by the front door, "I really do not need whiskey right now."

"And what do you need?" Jemima says, wrapping her hand round his tie, leading him up the stairs.

"I need you," Tommy replies, arms going round her waist, "fucking hell, I doubt I'll ever not need you."

They make it into her bedroom, and Tommy spins her round, crashing their lips together as he walks her backwards until they reach the bed.

His eyes rake over her again. Internally worshipping her choice in matching red lingerie, beneath the white shirt. Everyone in the town is lucky it was him she answered the door to, else he'd wreak havoc across the entire fucking city, taking every persons eyes just so no other person had the opportunity to see her in a state of undress ever. Jemima Cathryn Morrigan was for his eyes only.

He tugs his tie off, climbing on top of her, using it to knot her hands together, raising them above her head so he could bind them to the headboard.

"Are you comfortable?" Tommy asks, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

She nods in confirmation, "yes."

"And if you're ever not comfortable, you will tell me, won't you?" Tommy queries.

"Of course I will," Jemima says.

"That's my girl," Tommy smiles, holding himself up with one hand and leaning down to brush his lips against Jemimas.