Jesswas in the doorway, dramatically fanning herself, and I rolled my eyes. “It wasgood,” I nodded, pulling out my planner from my briefcase and flipping it opento this week. “We didn’t head back until late last night, so there was almostnobody else on the road.”
“Ah,those are my favorite times to drive.” I could picture him, cocking his headand rubbing one manicured hand against his stubbled chin. “I should take youout in my Ferrari sometime. There’s really something about driving at nightwith the top down.”
Myeyes lifted to Jess, who had already tipped her head to one side like aconfused dog. “Oh, um, I’m sure that’d be lovely.”
Iwasn’t sure how to take the comment. Was he being nice? Was it flirtatious? Orwas he simply showing off? It was too vague to tell.
Clearingmy throat, I tapped the little box markedSaturdayin my planner. “So,Roman, I have this weekend free to come out to see your home. I know it’s such shortnotice, but does that work for you?”
Ilistened to the tune of mouse-clicking and keyboard-tapping until he hummedthoughtfully. The sound could’ve made a nun’s toes curl. “I would need toshuffle a few things around, but I should be able to make it work. Saturday,you said? What time?”
“Aroundnoon?”
Anotherhum and my cheeks flushed. “Noon it is. I’ll let my assistant know.”
IjottedRomaninto the box. “Excellent.”
“Indeed,”he agreed. “Can’t wait to see you again, Tabitha.”
“I’mlooking forward to it as well.” I made sure my smile was wide as I said goodbyeto him, leaving him with a good impression, even if he could only hear it. Jesswas nearly a puddle when I looked back to her and chuckled, shaking my head.“You are absolutely ridiculous, you know that?”
“I’msorry if thirteen years of marriage has made me hot for any guy with a deepvoice and a laugh that could melt butter,” she shot back with a flip of herhair before heading back to her desk.
***
Mondayrolled into Tuesday, and then Wednesday brought a surprise visit fromSebastian. He stopped by my office and requested my house keys while I wasstill processing the fact of him being there at all.
“Whydidn’t you tell me you were coming?” I demanded to know, fishing the keyringfrom my purse and pulling off the spare key to the house that I’d given to myex once upon a time.
“Youtold me I could come whenever I wanted,” he reminded me, slipping hissunglasses off and dropping into the chair on the other side of my desk. “Also,I kinda feel like I’m wasting even more time just sitting around at home.”
“Wastingtime?” I slid the key across the desk. Giving it to him was tied to acommitment and I was shocked by how easily I gave it away.
Nodding,he grabbed the shiny piece of metal and put it onto his own key ring. It feltsymbolic and oddly permanent, until three little words popped into my mind:Itjust is.
“Yeah,I mean, haven’t I wasted enough already?”
“Youmean with Greyson?”
“Yeah,”Sebastian said simply, continuing to bob his head as he dropped his keys on mydesk. “I got to thinking last night that I’ve been robbed. Of time, you know?”
Igave him a small sympathetic smile. “Yeah,” I nodded, “I can understand that.”
Hegazed at me across the desk, his deep brown eyes taking me back to moments whenwe were both naked. With a flicker of recognition, he leaned back in his seat, reachedbehind and gave the door a nudge. It drifted shut, not quite clicking in place,but for one moment, I hardly cared as he stood up and rounded my desk. Pressingboth hands to the arms of my chair, he caged me in, lowering his mouth not tomy lips but to my neck. There, he kissed me with closed lips, filling his lungswith my scent and sighing with what I only knew as relief.
“WorkTabby smells different from Weekend Tabby,” he muttered against my sensitiveskin.
“It’sa different perfume,” I replied in a whisper, and he kissed my neck again, thistime with his tongue. “I have two,” I kept talking. “One for work, and onefor—”
Histongue traced the curve of my ear, flipping every earring in its wake, and Ishuddered with a flutter of my eyelids.
“Youhave too many rules,” he assessed, speaking between kisses against my jaw and mylips.
“Youdon’t have enough,” I countered, allowing myself the smallest of smiles whilemy body wanted to lean back and spread my legs. He called me a witch, but whatdid that make him?
“Ihave plenty of rules, thank you very much.” He chuckled, peppering my lips witha series of small kisses and nuzzling his nose against mine.
Therewas an affection in the way he kissed me now. It wasn’t the urgent slip of atongue—my own fault on Friday night—and it wasn’t the desperate need to fuckthat we’d experienced on Saturday. This was Sunday Morning Sebastian. He whodeclared we should be a regular thing. He who washed my hair.
