“Problem in the kitchen,” he says, already putting his shirt back on. “Thirty extra people showed up to the event, and the organizers need us to accommodate them all of a sudden.”
“So?”
“So I have to go help my team. There won’t be enough food, not enough cutlery, not enough staff…”
“Isn’t tonight your only night off this week?”
He drags a hand through his hair. Everything about his body screams tired. “I don’t have a choice.”
“How about saying no?”
“I can’t. They’re a good client. Booked us a year ago.”
“And you did your job. You were ready. They made changes to their demands without telling you in advance.” I undo the top button of my shirt. “That’s not your problem.”
“I know, but—”
“No but.” I unbutton another, then a third one, exposing the top of my breasts.
“What are you doing?”
“Iam getting ready for bed. It’s late.”
Eli’s gaze is glued to my chest, not even bothering to hide where he’s staring.
I lean back, uncross my legs.
“What is this? Blackmail?”
“I’m not torturing you, am I?”
“Honestly? Yeah, you fucking are.”
“Let’s call it incentive.” I undo another button, now exposing my entire bra.
His feet bring him forward as I continue unbuttoning, as if dragged to me by an invisible magnet even he can’t control.
He stands between my legs as I undo the last button, letting my shirt fall off my shoulders. “I did say I’d get you to be selfish.”
His chest is rising and falling like he’s just run five miles, maple syrup-colored eyes now obsidian. He lifts a hand to my breasts, but I lean further back at the last second. “You just gotta say no.”
“You’ll be the death of me,” he whispers before crashing onto me. While the previous kisses were languid, these are wild and frantic, his hands everywhere. On my back, my neck, my breasts. Through my bra, he teases a nipple between his pinched fingers, making me gasp in his mouth.
“You drive me insane, you know that?” He unclasps my bra, then pulls back and stares. I feel exposed, something I usually hate, but under his gaze, I don’t mind so much. I couldn’t feel insecure with the way he’s looking at me. He brings a hand to my breasts, squeezing, then pinching. I arch my back, which rubs my core against the erection tenting his gray sweatpants. I shift so I can palm him through his pants.
“Shit.” He pulls back, then lies on me. “You have to wait if you don’t want this to be over in five minutes.” With a nip at my jaw, he says, “Let me play with you first.”
Just as his hand breaches my shorts and I’m shaking for him, he taps his phone and brings it to his ear. His finger traces soft circles on top of my drenched panties as he whispers, “Shh.” Then, “Hey, Vince. About tonight? Tell them it’s too late to change plans.”
I can’t believe he’s talking on the phone while playing with my clit. I can’t believe I like it.
The other guy—Vince—starts talking, but Eli doesn’t seem to listen, only watching me as his fingers move my panties to the side and brush against my naked flesh. I inhale sharply, which he silences with a discrete kiss.
“Yeah. Uh-huh. But tell them we’re not prepared for that kind of change, and they can call me tomorrow if they want to talk.”
God, he’s actually going to make me come like this.
Another bout of Vince talking, then, “Not tonight. I’m busy. Talk later.” He hangs up.
