Page 67 of Negotiation Tactics
“On?”
“Are you willing to let me drive the Lamborghini to Lily’s place so I can kick her ass for telling you?”
He laughs, his breath hot against my lips. “I have a better idea,” he says, flicking his tongue out to lick along my upper lip. “Why don’t we drive to my house first so I can show you just how jealous I was?” His arms tighten around me, making me shudder in anticipation. “We can go kick Lily’s ass afterwards.”
Fuck, why is everything he says such a turn on? I’m giddy beyond comprehension, my heart full and myinsides churning with excitement. Meeting this man is the worst and the best thing that’s happened in my life so far, and if I am being honest, I can’t wait to see if he’ll stick around so I can confess that to him.
But first…
“I will explode if I don’t get my hands on you in the next forty minutes, Alistair Devon.”
He laughs, smooching my cheek. “It’s a good thing we can make it to my place in less than thirty then, isn’t it?”
Epilogue
Fourteen months later.
JOSH
“Yeah,Ithinktheviolet and gold combination for the trim of the countertop looks better than the green and gold,” I agree with Christy and switch the call from the Lambo’s Bluetooth to my phone.
“Right?” she chirps. “And the geometric forms rather than the flowery pattern.”
“Yes, I think so. If we are going with the violet.”
“We are.” She pauses, fabric rustling in the background. She must be still in the office, working through the samples of drapes I put together. “Are you happy to do the rough sketches?”
I grab the folder with designs I need to go over and lock the car. Is she kidding? Of course I am! “You bet!”
“Great, I’ll leave that to you then,” she says and hangs up.
I grin like a fool as I climb the stairs to the patio where the entrance to Alistair’s mansion is. I moved here three months ago when the lease on my apartment ended and I’m still a little unused to the fact that this feels morelike home than my own apartment ever did. Is that because Alistair is here and we’ve been having a blast living together? I don’t know, but I have a hunch that it might be.
Shoving the folder in my backpack so I have a free hand, I pause in front of the massive mahogany door like I do every time before I unlock it. I just can’t help it, because I’m the one thatdesignedit as part of my first-year project. About a month after Alistair and I became official, we hadthe talkabout our goals and aspirations, and he pushed me to apply for a design degree. I was adamant at first, but I eventually agreed and after a year of hard work and juggling the Union with school, I’m getting the hang of things.
Oh, and I’m also interning at Christine Flores’ firm because, apparently, Alistair blabbered on about my dream career being an interior designer and Christy just so happened to have a spot for an intern open.
I smile, thinking about Alistair’s failed attempt at feigning innocence.One hundred percent coincidence,my ass. But well, I don’t complain and neither did I turn it down, because I would be an idiot to pass on the opportunity of a lifetime because my boyfriend had a hand in making it happen.
If anything, I was over the moon when he told me.
As soon as I walk into the hall, Alistair pins me against the wall, his strong hands touching any part of me he can get to. He’s ravenous and I can’t blame him after his two week-long conference in Norway, where he’s opening a new hotel.
“I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow,” I moan against his mouth as he devours me and works me out of my clothes like he’s a drug addict and I’m his first fix after a month of abstaining.
“I left a day early. They don’t need me now that all the documents are signed,” he rushes out between nips and licks. Clamping my waist, he spins me around until my back is pressed against his front, his straining erection lighting up nerve-endings all over me.
“Mm, I think that was a great idea. A real genius move,” I tease.
He laughs against the heated skin of my neck, the sound reverberating through my body. “Are you making fun of me, brat?” he demands, bringing my hands over my head, so one of his can pin them against the wall.
A thrill rushes through me, heightening my arousal. “What would you do if I said yes?”
He slides his hand into my pants, his fingers digging into my ass with urgency. When he realizes I’m wearing the jockstrap he gifted me before he left, his breathing hitches. “Brady told you, didn’t he?” he accuses, dragging his fingers along my crease.
“He might’ve let it slip, but I already knew by then,” I respond, stifling a whiny noise as I shake my hips so I can get his fingers where I want them.
“Christy then,” he surmises, finally pushing them inside me. I moan a yes, which makes him smile against my shoulder. “You two getting along?”
