Page 83 of Keep Him Like Secrets

“Teresa will worry.”

Well, she had me there.

Teresa had herself convinced I had some sort of chronic, incurable disease that required nightly treatments, because she couldn’t think of a single other reason I’d be leaving work early every night after a decade of staying until nine or later.

“She’ll get over it.”

She ignored that for a minute, reading a few pages before glancing back up at me.

“Is it really that much better with challah bread?”

“Darlin’, it’s life-changing.”

To that, she rolled her eyes and snorted.

“You’re getting a little cocky,” she told me as I put the carton back on the table, wanting her more than food.

“Says the woman who licked the plate the last time I cooked.”

“It was saucy still,” she said, lifting her chin.

“You had three servings,” I reminded her, plucking the book out of her hands after she slid the bookmark into place. “And some of mine.”

“I was hungry. All they served at book club was coochie boards.”

A snort escaped me at that as I pulled her legs until she moved to straddle me. “Do you mean ‘charcuterie’ boards?”

“No. I meant coochie,” she said, eyes dancing. “We read an alien romance where the dudes only get to completion if they’ve got their faces buried in the V. Someone thought it would be funny to only serve V-shaped foods. Which meant it was mostly halved fruit and carefully folded deli meat. Oh, and pussy flower cupcakes from the erotic bakery. Those were my contribution.”

“There’s an erotic bakery?”

“Yep. Dicks everywhere,” she said, smile bright. “I know where I’m getting the next bachelorette favors.”

She mentioned these book club friends of hers all the time. But was careful not to mention names.

I couldn’t help but wonder if they knew about me. And, if they didn’t, why not?

Were we crossing professional boundaries? Sure. But she wasn’t my subordinate. We were both adults. There was no rule or law saying we couldn’t do exactly what we were doing.

So why all the secrecy?

Saff’s hands slid up my arms to wrap around my neck. Comfortable, familiar. My hands tightened on her hips as she leaned in and pressed her lips to mine.

It was the first time she’d taken charge and led with softness and sweetness. Normally, she was all rough demands.

There was a warm, crushing sensation across my chest as she sighed against my lips before letting her tongue slip inside to toy with mine.

My body was aching to move this forward, but I let her set the pace. Her lips moved down my jaw, over my ear, then down the side of my neck, her tongue teasing over the pulse point.

She kept moving downward, her hands slipping between us to work each button free before kissing her way down my chest, my stomach, then—as she lowered herself to the floor—her tongue teased across the waistband of my pants as she worked my belt, button, and zipper free.

Anticipation sparked across my nerve endings as she reached inside and closed her hand around my length.

My head fell back on a deep exhale as her tongue teased across the head before sucking me into her mouth.

There was none of her usual urgency, though. Her movements were torturously slow, like she was enjoying the giving too much to rush it.

So when my hands glided into her hair, I didn’t try to make her move harder and faster, like the need for release that was clawing at me. I just moved her hair out of the way so I could watch the way she worked me.

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