Page 135 of Fifth Avenue Fling

The muscle in his jaw jumps as his gaze drops to my breasts, bouncing with each thrust; I can tell he’s close now. He breathes heavier, his focus slipping. His face contorts, beautiful jaw slacking, eyes drowning in lack of control.

With a heated growl into my neck, he explodes inside me.

No, Killian Quinn. I’m not giving you up.

***

“What are your plans for when Mrs. Dalton returns, and I no longer need you?”

My smile drops. Now he’s half dressed and back in business mode. An unpleasant feeling rises in my stomach. I know he’s talking about the job, but his words feel personal. They cut.

I slowly climb off the bed and reach for my leggings. “The agency might have found me a couple who need an au pair,” I say, hoping he can’t hear the edge to my tone. “It’s only three days a week, so the other two days I’m going to focus on building up some inventory to sell. Orla and I are going to try to find somewhere affordable in Brooklyn. Not the fancy part, obviously. We’re checking out the cute district with the large Polish and Hungarian community.” I’m rambling. “Do you know it?”

For some reason, this irritates him. “I know it.” He pulls his T-shirt over his head and looks at me. “Do you even want to be an au pair?”

“Not really. But not everyone loves their job, right? I want to stay in New York, so this is a compromise.”

“I’m working on a permanent solution for you.”

My hand freezes as I reach for my vest top. “What?”

“A green card,” he says as if he were talking about getting me a hot dog from a street stand. “Not tied to the hotel. A green card that means you can work anywhere you want and stay for as long as you want.” His brow furrows like he’s scolding a child. “And you should start charging for those yoga classes on Saturday, by the way.”

He says it so casually.

Green card. Like it’s a bus pass or something instead of a permanent pass to the States.

My pulse skyrockets.

Don’t get excited.

“Really?”

He nods. “Really. I’ll help you put together a business plan.”

“Business plan?” I squawk because, apparently, I’m a useless parrot now.

He slips his foot into a shoe. “For how you’ll make carpentry work for you in New York. Quinn & Wolfe has a team that helps small businesses get on their feet; we’ll get you in to pitch. I can be there if you need me to.”

I might actually wet myself if he keeps talking. Or cry. Or pass out.

All these magical words coming out of his mouth. He can’t just bounce around suggestions like these and not expect me to have a meltdown.

“I…” I struggle around the lump in my throat, too overwhelmed to process anything. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

“It’s fine,” he says grumpily, now fully dressed. He smooths down his T-shirt. “Right, I’d better get—”

“Why, Killian?” I ask loudly. I never interrupt him.

“Why what?”

“Why would you do this for me?”

“Because I can.”

“Not because you care about me.”My voice is barely audible, but I have to press. He has to give me something.

His brow furrows. The muscles of his face tense visibly. “Of course I care about you.”

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