Chapter Twenty-Six

Beau

I wake up a new man.

The sound of the shower at the other end of the master bedroom, down a narrow hallway, rushes in my ears. That’s the first thing I notice. The second is that Annabel isn’t in bed with me. That means she’s in the shower. Naked.

I’m ready for her before I’ve thrown off the sheets. What is it, pulsing through my veins? Adrenaline? Testosterone? I want to sink my hands into the flesh of her hips and pull her back onto my cock. Her hands will need to stay pressed against the tiled walls of the shower if we’re going to stay balanced.

I stop at the double sink and brush my teeth. One of the spare toothbrushes I keep in the linen closet is in the holder. Annabel has made herself right at home. She’s a zero-to-a-hundred kind of girl. I’d grin if every nerve in my body wasn’t screaming to be pounding inside her immediately.

“Did you wake up?” she calls from inside the glassed-in shower. I put my toothbrush back in the holder and curse my past self for choosing frosted glass. Annabel’s body is too gorgeous to be hidden from my eyes. Screw that glass. I’ll have it replaced this afternoon.

“I did. The bed was quite empty, though.”

“What did you expect?” Annabel teases, a laugh in her voice. “We have work, Beau. It’s got to be at least ten after seven, and I’ve got to get back to the Pearl, and you’ve got to get to your office, wherever that is, for your meetings or whatever else you’re doing—”

I pull open the door.

The sight in my shower is everything I could have hoped for.

Annabel stands beneath a stream of water, steam drifting in lazy clouds in front of her. She runs her hands over her hair, her head tilted back. The view from the front almost makes me lose it on the shower floor. It would be an unforgivable lapse in self-control. But we’re past that now, aren’t we?

At the sound of the door clicking shut, she opens her eyes. She looks into mine for a brief moment, wearing a little smile, and then her gaze moves downward. “Whoa. You’re—”

I move toward her then. I can’t get my hands on her fresh, wet curves fast enough.

We were up late last night. Far too late. I should be utterly useless, but Annabel melts into me like this is the first time we’ve been allowed to touch. I kiss her hard, backing her up against the wall, and she moans. I nip at her lip. “Beau . . . wait. Wait.”

My heart sinks right through the floor, right through the rest of the building. Did I take this too far? Did I fuck things up, lunging at her like that? I take half a step back and meet her gaze.

It’s not hesitation I see there. It’s a pure, wild wickedness.

“What is it?”

“There’s one thing.” She puts her hands on my chest, palms flat, and watches the water droplets collecting there before she drags them downward. “I wanted to do something with you last night.”

“We did a lot of somethings last night.”

Her grin gets wider, sultrier. “One thing,” she says again.

Then she sinks to her knees.

*****

Annabel hops on one foot, then the other, laughing while she struggles to get into her skinny jeans. “We are going to be so late.” She laughs again. “I’m going to be late, I should say. You’re the boss. You can show up whenever you want.”

I put one arm into the suit jacket I’m holding. What would Edgar Sykes say if I started showing up to meetings whenever I wanted? Nothing good, that’s what. It would be the end of my partnership with him and probably Bennett Inc. besides. “A few privileges come with owning the business.”

She pulls up her jeans the last few inches, then surveys the pile of T-shirts on the ottoman at the foot of my bed. “You went all out.”

“I wasn’t sure what brand of T-shirt you wear.”

“You took precautions. Like, fourteen precautions,” she says with a smile, pink rising to her cheeks. It’s true. She didn’t have any clothes with her last night, so I had my personal shopper assemble a collection. The deadline was early for most of the boutiques, but I made it clear I’d be a loyal customer if they did me this one favor.

“I can have more brought up, if none of those are right.”

Annabel looks at me, eyes huge. “What kind of girl do you think I am? These are black T-shirts, Mystery Man. If I can’t find even one that works, I need to reevaluate my life.” She holds up one, then the next. For the third try, she reaches into the center of the stack. “Bingo,” she whispers under her breath.

“Wait.”

She freezes in the act of opening the shirt to put it on. “What is it?”

I’m not the same person I was before. The old Beau would have insisted that we leave ten minutes ago, even fifteen. The old Beau would have spent all that time in the shower trying to figure out which was the better option—remaining loyal to Bennett Inc. or indulging in the finest blow job humanity has to offer.

I cross the distance between us—all of two steps—and move behind Annabel, my hands on her waist, then on her hips. I pull her back. She’s warm through the front of my shirt. Her body feels right underneath my hands. She rests her head against my chest and puts her hands on mine, swaying so gently I’m not positive she knows she’s doing it.

“I’ll be heartbroken if you put that shirt on,” I say into her. “I don’t care if we’re late. Not today.”

She whirls in my arms and presses her lips against mine, fast and hard and hot. “Thank God,” she says, eyes alight with desire. “I’ve been waiting all morning for those words.”

We leave Winston waiting another forty-five minutes. He’ll be getting a big, big bonus.