He gave me an unreadable smile. “You’ll have to wait and see.”
That was when I realized I’d spent so long sweating the arriving part of this little escapade that I hadn’t given any thought at all to the leaving. The idea of pulling my gorgeous new coat over my seriously sexed body and limping wetly into a taxi was one gazillion percent the wrong uncomfortable. Did Caspian keep spare clothes in his office? It was a posh building—maybe there would be an onsite employee gym, or something, with a shower I could use.
“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Caspian pulled away abruptly. But since, not so very long ago, he would have taken me being post-coitally tense as an invitation to run like hell, this was definitely progress.
I sat up gingerly, pressing my knees together and folding my hands over my dick, in what was a pretty belated act of modesty. “No. Not at all. Just, err, fretting about logistics.”
“Logistics?”
“Yeah. I need to get back somehow.”
Caspian was silent for a long moment. Apart from the fact there was come and ink on his shirt from where our bodies had pressed against each other, he looked…well…almost put-together. Whereas I was wrecked from eyes to arse.
Then he leaned in and brushed back a lock of hair that had gone off on a frolic of its own when I’d been too busy having sex to keep it under control. “Don’t worry about that. You can stay with me.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, with fucking extraordinary nonchalance.
From the look on his face, I didn’t think he was all that sure, but he nodded anyway. And, dammit, I would take it.
“Here.” He took off his shirt and wrapped it round me. It was warm from him and smelled of him—quite pungently of him, actually, considering what we’d just been doing—and, being ridiculously expensive, it was soft and smooth against my still over-sensitive skin. Of course it was way too big for me, brushing my stocking tops, but I was totally okay with that. It felt like being in Caspian’s arms.
Once I was only partially indecent, he helped me down off the desk. We stared a moment at the imprints we’d left on the glass: smudges of heat and sweat and other fluids.
He didn’t quite facepalm but his palm hovered perilously close to his face. “What in God’s name was I thinking? This was so unprofessional.”
It seemed sensible to brace myself for a cavalcade of regret. I hung my head. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be silly, Arden. I was as responsible for it as you.”
“But I turned up in a…a…” I made an awkward gesture. “…provocative way.”
“Yes, and I chose to respond by fucking you on my desk. Which I enjoyed very much.”
“Really?” I shot him a silly, happy smile. “You aren’t freaking out?”
“No.”
“It was still bad of me, though. You should, y’know, probably spank me later.”
He laughed and pulled me unexpectedly into something I could only call a hug. Squeezed me so tightly, so desperately, I nearly ran out of breath. “Oh Arden, you’re incorrigible.”
I nodded into his chest.
“Please, never stop.”
“No intention of it,” I mumbled. Though what I was thinking was: please never stop holding me like this.
Of course he did. And if he hadn’t, it would have been awkward, what us having to eat and go to the toilet and have separate lives and things. But I could have taken a little bit more of being hugged like that.
A lot more, to be honest.
Chapter 11
Once we were untangled, he led me over to a different lift. The doors were so discreet I hadn’t even noticed them the last time I’d been here. And tonight I’d been a bit busy for sightseeing. I was just staring blankly, but the pressure of his hand at the small of my back propelled me forward.
“Make yourself at home,” he told me. “I need to clean up and finish my work. But I’ll be with you as soon as I can.”
It took a moment or two for the implication of his words to sink in. “Wait, you live here?”
