Pure Feeling

made to honour

"Your work is magnificent, Sasha."

We came to a standstill in the entrance, right next to the hall table that lived under the Monet. A place that had so many memories for us already. I turned to face Harry. "I'm glad you like it."

"What do you need me to sign?"

"They are all marked with tabs." I handed him three contracts and Harry pulled a pen out of the inner breast pocket of his suit jacket. He signed or initialed all the indicated places in a minute, not bothering to read what he was signing. "There might be one more."

Harry furrowed his brows. "Might?"

"It is about your retainer. I wasn't sure if you wanted to keep the firm on retainer or whether this was the end of our business relationship." It was company policy to treat accounts with retainers as ongoing and not broach the subject of winding up the business relationship. The contract that was still in my bag was only ever given to clients on their request. Harry was different. While we still had a business connection, it somewhat tainted our personal one. Aggie didn't have a problem but there was gossip — office and otherwise. It didn't sit well with me.

"As much as I've appreciated the services of Waterhouse Designs," Harry inched closer to me, trapping me between him and the hall table, "I don't think I'll need to keep the firm on retainer." He dipped his head down and caught my lips in a kiss. "No, I've got my own personal designer now."

"You're ridiculous."

"No, I'm realistic. You're the only one who will make any changes to my property portfolio. If I thought you'd leave Agatha's tutelage, I'd offer you a job at Styles International. You could head up your own design department."

"You're very sweet, but I love my job and I don't think we should be in bed together in every aspect of our lives. Some separation is healthy," I joked. His offer was mind-blowing. If I didn't still have so much to learn from Aggie, I'd seriously consider it.

"You'd have complete autonomy, but I understand." Harry's distracting hands were under the skirt of my dress, his fingers hooked into the waistband of my tights. There was a reason I'd scheduled him in as my last appointment of the day — celebration sex was on the menu. "For now, I'll end the relationship with Waterhouse, and in the future, you can charge anything to your black card."

"Are you sure you don't want to snap renovate any other corner of your house just to keep me around?" I teased. Harry squeezed my ass. "I saw through your little game, Harrison. Nobody, especially you, renovates half their house on a whim."

"Is it a crime that I wanted excuses to keep seeing you?"

"No, it's sweet. But no more?"

Harry shook his head. "I got the girl. I don't give a fuck about the house."

"Careful," I said breathlessly. Harry's lips had moved to my neck, and one hand had snuck further up my dress to my breasts. "You might offend the designer."

"The house is great, but I still got what I wanted most — the girl. You. After the ensuite, it was all about you."

"I love you," I whispered. Harry grabbed the hem of my thousand pound dress and lifted it over my head, discarding it over his shoulder with little regard for how much it cost. I fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, too proud to rip down the middle and pop them open. I had more respect for clothing than he did. Harry laughed at me and did it himself, sending buttons flying all over the hardwood floor. I rolled my eyes, "Don't you dare tell me you have a thousand more."

"I haven't counted," Harry mumbled against my jaw. His teeth grazed along the skin until he came to a stop, just below my ear. He nipped the skin and I sighed. "But I do have plenty more."