Page 78 of Hearts on the Table
He snorted. “I have never in my life called a woman‘baby.’”
Chapter 29
Lainey
Was he joking? Surely he was. But as I studied him across the kitchen counter, the theory I’d been holding onto about Sam and sex solidified.
“You called me baby three times. Yesterday.”
“No, I didn’t.” His denial was fast and absolute, like the slamming of the dishwasher door. “That term has always seemed too…possessive.”
“You only call me baby when we’re having sex.” I enjoyed the blank look on his face more than I should have. Highly entertaining, the way his eyes darted back and forth like he was trying to replay our sexual encounters. “I don’t mind it. It’s kind of hot, honestly. Especially now that I know you’re beingpossessive.”
“It’s hot.” It was a question, but didn’t sound like one. He either didn’t believe that I enjoyed it or that he actually said it.
“Do you want me to show you?” My pulse quickened. His eyes went dark as he crept around the counter, wrapping me in those big, strong arms.
“You gonna start calling me ‘baby?’” His words rasped against my ear.
The seductive slide of his palms around my waist woke something needy and sensual inside me. Heat simmered, and I drew a deep breath, trying to slow my rapidly increasing heart rate.
My teeth sank into my lip, coy, as I shook my head. “No. I’ve spent long enough calling you by your last name. Just ‘Sam’ does it for me these days.”
“You called me Samuel earlier.” His nose traced down the side of my face. “Iliked that.” The evidence of just how much he’d liked it pushed against my belly. “Like a librarian. Like I’ve been bad.”
I ran my hands up over his chest, loving the warmth under my fingers and hating the fact that he was still wearing a shirt. Why were either of us wearing anything? “Have you? Been bad?”
“I made my girlfriend crash my brother’s birthday,” he murmured, flicking the tip of his tongue over my pulse. My breath left me in a sigh, heat traveling lower and lower. I was already wet for him, and getting wetter by the minute. The sound of him calling me his girlfriend made my heart stutter.
“That’s pretty bad. Maybe I’ll forgive you if you call me baby.”
I felt his smile, right before I felt his teeth nip the side of my neck. He didn’t bite me every time we had sex, but I almost always had a mark or two on me somewhere. Who would have thought that my quiet, considerate attending was so into marking his territory? Who would have thought that I was so into it, too?
His hands cupped my face, thumb ghosting across my jaw. “Sweetheart. Honey. Lainey.” Little kisses pressed to my mouth with every word. I wriggled in his arms. “There’s no way.”
Oh, yes, there was. No matter how effectively his brain disconnected from his vocal cords during sex, he’d remember calling me baby tonight. I’d make sure of that.
“We’ll see.”
I was hated to leave his arms, but the look on his face when I sashayed across his living room and deposited my blouse on the stair railing was worth it. I could practically hear his gulp whenhe caught the skirt I slid off and kicked back at him. He followed, rapt, as I took the stairs slowly, giving him time to admire the view, a thin scrap of silk the only thing covering my butt.
“Please tell me you’re planning to keep the heels on.” He caressed my spine, feeling the bumps and curves there. He dragged the tip of his finger across the line of lace hugging my rear.
“Maybe.” I leaned against the wall of his bedroom, watching him stalk me with hooded eyes. “Hold on.” He froze the instant I spoke. I spread my fingers across his chest, smoothing the fabric covering his shoulders, lightly scoring my fingernails across his collar, where skin met cotton. He shuddered. His breaths fractured, stuttering in and out while I explored, keeping my touches light and playful.
“Take your clothes off, and get on the bed.”
Buttons snapped. He nearly tripped over his pants, still peeling off a sock when he rolled onto the mattress, looking at me like I commanded his next breath. It was heady and hot and hilarious.
“A little eager?”
“Honey, you have no idea.” He reached a hand out. “Come here.”
“Hmm, Honey. Not baby, yet?” I purred, sliding across the room and ignoring his outstretched hand. “Sit back against the headboard.”
It banged against the wall. Another funny moment, but all the power was going to my head. Instead of laughing at his impatient rush, I remembered what he’d said to me last week. That I was in control. He had no idea.
If I was really in control, I’d have listened to that panicked voice that still piped up every once in a while to warn me that falling so hard, so fast for a colleague was a bad idea. That I was sleeping with the man in charge of hiring me, and I loathednepotism. That if it had been up to me, none of this would have happened.
