All I Want for Christmas Is You Fluffing Perfection
December 18th Afternoon
As I typed out an email to our Finance Department, my phone vibrated across my desk. I glanced down and sighed heavily.
Incoming call: Dr. Crazypants
Now that I’d let my mom know—via email, this morning, about an hour and a half ago—we wouldn’t be celebrating Christmas with my family on Christmas Day, but instead, would be celebrating it together the week after, I’d been dodging her calls.
The red dot on the little phone on the left-hand bottom of my screen read ten—they were all from her.
Just woman up and answer it.
With a deep breath, I grabbed my phone and put it to my ear. Then I realized my body had protested the idea that I should answer all on its own and declined to hit the accept button. I quickly pulled the phone away, told my body to stop being such a pussy, and rectified my mistake before putting it back to my ear.
“Hey, Mom,” I greeted in the happiest voice I could manage at noon on a workday.
“Hi, honey. Your father and I are both on,” she responded, and my father chimed in, “Hi, Georgie girl.”
Uh-oh…They’re using the double-team tactic…
Their voices were too cheery, and my spidey senses immediately signaled Danger! Danger! Dick and Savannah only utilized the double-team tactic when their motivations revolved around getting what they wanted. Right now? They wanted Christmas together. I’d bet my blueberry crumble muffin on it—and I was really fucking hungry.
Stay strong, Georgia. Stay fucking strong.
“Hey, Dad,” I said, and I swallowed hard against the awkward ball that had appeared inside my throat. “What are you guys up to today?”
“Well,” my mother began, “we are getting our shopping list together and need to know what the girls want for Christmas.”
I waited a few extra seconds for the rest of her spiel. I knew that had to be just the beginning, and the begging, pleading, guilt-tripping—bribing—had to be coming soon.
But, surprisingly, the line stayed silent.
“Georgie?” my dad asked. “You still there?”
My brows drew together in suspicion. What the hell was going on here? “Sorry…I got distracted by…” I searched my office for something to use as an excuse. “Jockstraps,” I nearly shouted as my eyes landed on a poster of the current Mavericks team.
Jesus Christ. Jockstraps?
I squeezed my eyes tight and banged my head against the desk.
You’re fucking ridiculous, Georgia.
My mom’s voice was enthusiastic. “I can definitely see why that’d be distracting.”
Cripes.
“You got jocks in your office, George? You doin’ inventory or somethin’?”
“No. Just…never mind about the jockstraps.”
“You’re the one who brought it up,” my dad grumbled.
I sighed and did my best to pretend the conversation hadn’t even happened. “I have a list of possibilities for toys I can email you, along with the girls’ clothes sizes. Does that work?”
“That’d be perfect,” my mom said. “Thanks, sweetheart.”
“No problem. Is there anything else you need?” I cringed and shut my eyes at the same time. Why the fuck did I ask that? Just hang up, you idiot!
“Nope,” my dad answered.
What?
“So, we’ll see you, Kline, and girls on the twenty-ninth, right?”
“Right,” I answered and slowly opened my eyes in disbelief.
“We’re looking forward to it,” he said without any inkling of irritation. In fact, his tone was one hundred percent jolly. “Well, we’ve gotta head out and finish up our shopping. Love you, Georgie girl.”
“Oh, okay…”
“Love you, sweetheart,” my mom added, and then the phone clicked dead.
Hell’s bells, what had just happened?
I stayed frozen in my office chair for a good thirty seconds and stared at the wall.
I was shocked, to say the least. Any other holiday I’d ever tried to skip had been met with stern rebuttals and Dick’s I’m not putting up with your shit face. I hadn’t been able to see his face on the call, but he hadn’t sounded at all constipated—a telltale sign of frustration for Dick Cummings.
I guessed I should’ve just been thankful they weren’t suffocating me with guilt.
But I couldn’t deny it made me a little suspicious…
Maybe they have plans of their own? Maybe they know something I don’t?
I shook off those crazy thoughts.
Only Kline and our friends knew about our Christmas plans, and they knew not to spill the beans. Seriously, I’d done everything but threaten lives to keep the secret from any and all uninvited guests—aka my parents and the rest of my entire fucking family. I’d seen enough familial air humping and emergency situations for this holiday season, thank you very much.
But the most important thing right now wasn’t paranoia or finding spots for my friends with the fishes. It was the fact that I only had seven days until Christmas, and just a few days until we’d leave for the Catskills.
The holiday countdown was on.
My to-do list was a mile long, and I had to get most of it done before the two-hour drive to our cabin in the mountains. Not to mention, with three more Mavericks’ endorsement meetings scheduled this afternoon, and the rest of my workweek just as jam-packed, time wasn’t on my side.
But come hell or high water, I’d get it done. I’d make sure this was the best Christmas Kline, my girls, or my friends had ever seen. I was determined to make this holiday flawless.
Perfect tree. Perfect decorations. Perfect food. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. People would be Pinteresting our freakin’ Christmas for years to come once I was through with it.
“Hey, Georgia,” Winnie greeted as she walked into my office. “Wes said you just scored a huge endorsement deal this morning. Congrats, you little overachiever.”
I shrugged. “All in a day’s work, you know.” If I was being honest, it was one of the hardest deals I’d ever nailed down. Who knew a company that’d made its fortune off of sports drinks and energy bars could be so damn difficult?
She grinned and sat down in the seat across from my desk.
“But enough about the work chitchat,” I redirected to the priorities. Million-dollar deals, schmeals, Christmas was number one on my list. “What time do you think you, Wes, and Lexi will get to the cabin on Christmas Eve?”
“We play at four on the twenty-third, so if everything goes smoothly, we’ll be there early on Christmas Eve. Probably around ten.”
“Man, I hope we win this one.”
The Mavericks had two games left in the season, and this game, the one they’d play on the twenty-third, was a huge game. It would seal their spot in the play-offs and most likely ensure they only had to play one game to win the championship for their division.
“We will.” Winnie winked.
“I dig the confidence, Win.”
“Confidence is easy when our quarterback is in the best shape of his life.”
Huge things were happening in the Mavericks organization, and if Quinn Bailey kept throwing touchdowns in the play-offs like he had been during the season, our team had a really good shot at winning The Big Game. The final game that decided who was the best team in the entire league.
Don’t worry. I know it’s called the Super Bowl. I’m not that sports-terminology challenged.
If we ended up pulling that off, scoring more million-dollar endorsement deals would be a piece of fucking cake for me.
“It also helps that my husband has a huge vested interest in the team,” she teased. “It’s pretty much Mavericks talk, all day, every day with Wes these days. I honestly have no idea how I managed to keep him focused enough to finish the rest of our Christmas shopping in the city last night.”
“That you managed to get Wes to actually do the shopping is the part that amazes me,” I admitted. Winnie was literally the only person on the planet who could get Wes Lancaster to engage in shopping—holiday shopping, at that. If that wasn’t proof he worshiped the ground his wife walked on, I didn’t know what was.
“Oh, by the way, you can send your presents with us if you want,” I added. “Cass and I are going to wrap everything on the twenty-third while Kline and Thatch watch the kids.” Well, none of them was actually aware of that plan, but minor details, right?
Needless to say, I had everything mapped out to a T.
Meals, décor, and exact times when everything would occur. This Christmas was going off with a jolly-fucking-bang that would be devoid of Meals on Wheels, Twilight arguments, and grill explosions.
I’m making this Christmas my holly jolly bitch.
“Wow,” Win replied, relief evident in her voice and the tension release in her shoulders. “That would be fantastic if you guys could manage that, but I don’t want to add any more to your plate… I know you’ve got a lot going on.”
I waved her off with a nonchalant hand. “Oh, it’s no problem.” I mean, time wasn’t on my side, but again, minor details. I didn’t want any hiccups during this holiday, and the more things I had control over, the better.
Gratefulness kissed her lips in the form of a smile. “I’ll have to make sure I text Cassie and tell her thank you.”
“No need. I’ll let her know.” After I let her know she is the one and only mandatory participant in my present-wrapping party…
Win quirked a curious and far-too-knowing brow. “You haven’t told her, have you?”
I shrugged and avoided eye contact like the plague. “Uh…I can’t remember…”
“You can’t remember?” she questioned on a laugh. “I call bullshit, Georgie.”
“Fine,” I said on a groan. “I’ll call her now, and we can both tell her.”
She grinned. “Fantastic.”
Of course, Win just wanted to witness Cassie lose her shit over the idea of wrapping a million presents in one evening, but the call was much-needed. I had a bunch of other Christmas-related things to get finalized with Cass.
Plus, I had to make sure she and Thatch were all set for our car ride up to the Catskills. If there was one thing my best friend and her giant of a husband were good at it, it was running at least fifteen minutes behind schedule. And that was on a good day.
Their chronic tardiness was not going to put a hitch in my thoroughly planned and plotted Christmas itinerary. There was no way in Hades I was leaving my house any later than eight a.m. on the dot the morning we would head to the cabin. I had too many things to accomplish to be running even a minute behind schedule.
I grabbed my iPad off my desk and sat down beside Winnie. Two rings later and Cassie’s pretty face was on my screen.
“Hey, ya floozies. Look at you two, rubbing tits together in the middle of the day. How’s it hanging?”
Winnie and I laughed at our friend’s colorful description but didn’t address it. When it came to Cassie, it was almost always best to avoid falling further into her trap.
“Are you ready for the Catskills?” I asked, and Cass rolled her eyes.
“Good Lord, you’re like a little Christmas Nazi, Wheorgie. But do not worry, my neurotic friend, the Kelly clan will be ready for the Catskills,” she responded. “We still have a few more days until we leave.”
“I’m not a Christmas Nazi,” I refuted. I wasn’t. I was the complete opposite, if you asked me. Everyone that was going to the cabin was about to have the best freakin’ holiday of their lives. Hell, they’d be calling me Santa Claus before the festivities were through.
“You’re a little over the top,” she added. I settled for rolling my eyes rather than engaging in a verbal tug-of-war. I didn’t have time for small, meaningless chitchat. This was a purely business conversation. The business being the best, most perfect Christmas that would ever occur.
“Anyway, I was calling to let you know you guys need to be ready to leave by seven.”
“In the fluffing morning?” she questioned on a snort. “There is no way in hell I’m leaving at seven in the morning.”
“Fine,” I sighed. “Eight.”
“How about nine?”
“No. Eight. I don’t have time to waste, Cass.”
“Fluffing hell, G. I’ve met drill sergeants who keep a looser schedule than you seem to have planned.”
“We are going to have a perfect Christmas. Perfect. I refuse for it to be anything less.”
Winnie cleared her throat, and I sighed.
“Also, you and I are going to wrap all of the presents on the twenty-third, which will fit into the schedule perfectly because—” I tried to sugarcoat the present-wrapping party, but Cassie cut me off before I could even spread the verbal icing.
“I hope by ‘wrap,’ you mean we’re going to throw all of the shit into gift bags.”
“Gift bags?” I gasped. Nightmarish visions of half-assed bags with crinkled-up tissue paper filled my head. “Hell no. There will be no gift bags. Everything will be wrapped. And don’t worry, I bought the perfect paper and ribbon and bows for us to use.”
Cass looked at Winnie. “Tell me you’ll be joining us for the Christmas present sweatshop.”
Win shrugged. “Sorry, Cass. We’re not getting to the cabin until the next morning.”
“Then let’s reschedule Satan’s wrapping marathon until then, Wheorgie.”
“Nope,” I responded immediately. “Christmas Eve is booked. We have breakfast at nine. Ice skating at ten. Hot cocoa and a Christmas movie at noon. Baking cookies for Santa at two—”
“Holy fluffing shit.” Cassie cut me off. “Are you kidding me with this schedule right now?”
“Why would I joke about something like this?” I questioned in outrage. “This is Christmas we’re talking about, Cassie!”
“Just take a breath, Mrs. Fluffing Claus,” she muttered. “Everything will be fine.”
“Everything will be fine if you stick to the schedule and wrap presents with me on the twenty-third.”
“Fine. I’ll wrap one million presents with you. Hell, I’ll even ice-skate and bake cookies with Santa’s balls on them, but you have to do something for me first.”
“And what’s that?”
“Convince Dean to watch Philmore.”
“Seriously, Cassie?” I questioned. “It was hard enough to get him to stay at our house and watch Walter and Stan.”
My fabulously gay best friend and old work husband nearly had a heart attack when I asked him to watch my giant dog and slightly persnickety cat. It’d actually taken an outrageously costly gift in the form of Prada shoes to get him to agree. How in the hell was I going to convince him to add another pet, a mini-pig, to be precise, to his pet-sitting duties? A new winter wardrobe courtesy of Versace?
Holy smokes, it was an expensive business to make Christmas perfect.
Don’t tell, Kline.
“Take it or leave it, G.”
I sighed. Once. Twice. Three times. Until finally, I came to the realization that I had no other option. “Fine.”
“Perfect,” she responded with glee shining in her eyes, and if the conversation had been in-person, I would’ve been real fucking tempted to smack her.
Once I’d ended the call and Winnie had left my office to head toward Wes’s office to have a “chat” with the “boss,” I pulled my Christmas agenda out of my purse and added yet another to-do item on page two of what felt like the never-ending list to achieve perfection.
Christmas To-Do’s Cont’d
December 18th:
11. Organize the daily “Holiday Songs” playlist on iTunes.
12. Stocking stuffers for the kids.
13. Cookie decorations—sprinkles, ingredients for homemade icing (see page 15), chocolate, food coloring, marshmallows, Hershey Kisses, M&Ms.
14. Pick up and make copies of sheet music for Christmas Carols.
15. Fresh wreaths and garland will be ready for pick-up at the flower shop at 3 p.m.
16. Convince Dean to watch Philmore. (Preferably without an all-out catfight or expensive designer purchases.)
And this was just part of today’s list.
Tomorrow’s list made this one look like mere child’s play.
It’d only taken a fifteen-minute subway ride and a four-minute walk, and I was inside the all-too-familiar offices of Brooks Media. After Win left, I’d rushed through my work so I could move on to the important stuff—Christmas—and the first thing on the list was Philmore.
Cassie had made it clear that her helping me with wrapping—one of the most important parts of the holiday—was contingent upon convincing Dean that pigs were cute and not just for bacon. Seeing as one of Dean’s absolute favorite things was meat, I figured I had my work cut out for me.
Every time I stepped into this building, reminiscent memories of my days working for my husband hit me like a really warm wave. They were some of my fondest years, especially the one I’d spent falling in love with a man I’d held at arm’s length for that long.
I missed working side by side with my favorite person on the planet, but I loved what I was doing at the Mavericks too. I had more room and freedom to spread my wings, and I never had to worry that my coworkers and peers were silently thinking my achievements were based on my relationship instead of my work ethic. With the Mavericks, it was all me. One hundred percent Georgia Brooks.
That still didn’t stop my husband from trying to convince me to come back to work for him, but I didn’t mind. It wasn’t meant to be offensive; it was meant to be foreplay.
Believe me, it worked.
After a few hellos in the lobby to my favorite security men and a short ride on the elevator, I was in the hub of one of the biggest cyberbusinesses in the country.
But I had a singular goal in mind today, so my heels click-clacked across the sleek, hardwood floors of the Brooks Media lobby without even a hello and went immediately in the direction of Dean’s office.
Normally, I’d announce my plans for a visit, but in these circumstances, I felt that unexpected would only play in my favor. He’d have less time for interrogation.
“Knock, knock,” I said as I rapped my knuckles on the half-opened door of Dean’s office. “Got a minute to chat with an old friend?”
He looked up from his laptop, and a half-skeptical, half-happy look consumed his face. “Well, color me surprised. Come on in, little diva.”
He watched me closely—too closely—as I made my way into his office and sat down in the chair across from his desk.
Just play it cool. Don’t act like you’re up to something.
“Hmmm…someone is being sneaky today, huh?”
Shit. I sat up straighter in the chair. Act natural.
“Not sneaky,” I lied and forced a smile. “Just thought I’d stop in to say hello,” I corrected, and Dean grinned.
“Uh-huh, sure. You just up and decided to take the fifteen-minute subway ride from your office to say hello. Makes complete sense.”
“Are you calling me a liar?” I questioned, and he didn’t miss a beat.
“That’s exactly what I’m calling you.”
“Sheesh, you’re sassy today,” I teased in my best attempt to keep him on the defense.
“Considering the fact that your husband still hasn’t fired the she-devil Leslie, it’s safe to say I’m a little on edge this afternoon…every afternoon.”
He had a point. Leslie had been the bane of my existence when I’d worked at Brooks Media. What she lacked in work ethic, she made up for in Instagram selfies and stealing people’s food from the employee fridge. Needless to say, I was one hundred percent thrilled she was no longer a staple in my workday.
But I needed Dean to be more relaxed and less snarky and skeptical.
And there was only one certified way of getting Dean out of that kind of mood—compliments and fashion. Combine the two, and I’d be golden.
I glanced through the sleek and smooth glass of his desk and nodded toward his shoes. “At least your new Pradas look insanely hot.”
“I know, right?” He wiggled his feet a little. “Not to mention,” he started and made a show of tapping the collar of his shirt. “I also made a few purchases from the new Gucci winter line. This shirt is so gorgeous it should be preserved in a gilded frame and hung up in the freakin’ Louvre.”
“Right next to the Mona Lisa.”
He winked. “You know it, girl.”
“So, handsome good looks and amazing clothing aside…” I laid it on thick. “I wanted to give you a list of do’s and don’ts for pet-sitting.”
“Aha!” he exclaimed and pointed a perfectly manicured nail toward me. “So this visit was more little Georgie is on the Christmas holiday warpath instead of just a simple hello, huh?”
“It was both.” I shrugged. “And I’m not on a Christmas holiday warpath. I’m spreading joy.”
He grinned. “But it’s okay if violence is needed to spread the joy, right?”
“Well, there are exceptions to every rule, Dean,” I teased.
He chuckled and then waved his hand toward me. “All right, give it to me straight. Let me see what kind of neurotic, pet-sitting to-do list you’ve got for me.”
“Who said I had a list?”
He quirked a perfectly plucked brow in my direction.
“Fine. I have a list. But I’m not neurotic. I’m just thorough.”
Why did people keep calling me neurotic lately? I mean, just because I wanted everything perfectly planned out didn’t make me a lunatic. I was merely meticulous and organized…right?
“Hand me the list of neuroses, little diva.”
With only slight hesitation, I opened my purse and pulled out the sealed manila envelope that held everything Dean needed to know to watch Stan, Walter, and Philmore. Now, obviously, he knew about the first two, but I’d yet to enlighten him about the latest addition.
Hence, why the envelope was sealed. I was silently hoping he wouldn’t open it until after I’d left his office…and we were already in the Catskills, too far for him to strangle me with his bare hands.
“Why is this thing taped up and glued shut like it holds the keys to Fort Knox?”
“I just wanted to make sure nothing fell out,” I half lied. I mean, the keys and garage-door opener to our house were inside, so technically, I was sort of telling the truth.
“Well…” He set the envelope on his desk, and my shoulders sagged in relief. “I think I’ll need some ibuprofen and glass of wine in order to read through this list without making me rethink my decision to watch your horse and evil gremlin while you guys go on some top-secret holiday vacation that you won’t tell me about.”
Normally, I wouldn’t keep secrets from Dean. But I had to make sure no one found out where we were going. He had always been the office gossip, and God forbid, if he knew we were going to the Catskills, I had a feeling somehow my mother would find out. I was pretty sure the two of them still chatted occasionally.
“Dog and cat,” I corrected. “Stan isn’t that big, Dean, and Walter isn’t evil. He’s just particular.”
He lifted a knowing brow in my direction.
“Fine,” I relented. “I’ll agree that Stan is nearly the size of a horse. But Walter is not evil. He’s a total sweetheart once you get to know him.”
Dean chuckled and shook his head. “I’m pretty sure you, Stan, and the girls are the only four living, breathing things that Walter is willing to tolerate. Everyone else is on his shit list for sure. Even Kline.”
He was probably right, but that was beside the point. I needed to make him feel excited about watching the boys, not terrified.
“I promise, he’ll be fine. Stan will keep him calm.”
He pointed toward me. “I’m holding you to that, Georgie.”
“Just make sure you read through everything so you know when to feed them.” And the fact that there will be three pets instead of two… “What snacks you can give them, how much water to keep in their bowls, you know, just little stuff like that,” I added.
“Just little stuff like that?”
“Uh-huh.” I nodded and decided that since the envelope was still closed, now was the exact right time to get the hell out of his office. “All right,” I said and stood up from my seat. “Thanks again for watching the boys. You’re the best, Dean.”
He just looked at me curiously as I offered a little goodbye wave.
“Well, I’ll let you get back to it. See ya later and thanks again.”
“Okay, little diva,” he responded, but his eyes never left mine.
Yeah, I needed to get the hell out of his office and the Brooks Media building before he decided to open that envelope.
“Call me if you need anything,” I added and did my best to play it cool.
It took damn near all of my willpower not to sprint out the door. But somehow, I held it together, walking past the threshold of his office like a normal, sane person who wasn’t trying to hide the fact that she’d just let one of her best friends know that he’d be watching a mini-pig along with a giant horse of a dog and a slightly evil cat in the absolute most cowardly way—via handwritten note.
But Dean was the biggest, baddest diva I’d ever met, and there was no doubt in my mind I’d fold like a fucking house of cards if he outright refused to watch Philmore.
The first inkling of guilt started to creep up my spine as I strolled down the hallway and toward the elevator, but a quick tug on my hand and my nearly tripping on my stilettos and falling face first onto the floor forced my focus elsewhere.
“Holy shit,” I muttered, trying to control myself. But I didn’t need to. Someone with the most familiar, sexy blue eyes I’d ever seen took control of my body for me. I couldn’t stop my lips from quirking up into a smile.
“Hey, Benny,” Kline whispered and led us toward a darkened corner of the hallway, far away from the ears and eyes of nosy employees.
I playfully tapped him on the chest. “You damn near scared the shit out of me, ya lunatic.”
He just grinned. “What are you doing here?”
“I had to drop keys and pet instructions off to Dean.”
He raised a questioning brow and wrapped his arms tighter around my waist. “And you weren’t going to stop by your husband’s office and say hello?”
“I have so many things on my to-do list, Kline,” I whined. “I don’t have a lot of time.”
“Ouch.” He feigned discomfort. “Couldn’t even make a little time for a short hello or hug or innocent little kiss for your husband?”
“I’m sorry.” I placed a soft, tender kiss to his lips. “It wasn’t personal, I promise. I just wanted to make sure I got everything done today.”
He pouted. “It feels a little personal, Benny.”
“It’s not.” I kissed his lips again, and he grinned. “I promise.”
“You know what I think?”
“What do you think?”
“I think you should come into my office and make it up to me,” he whispered slyly, and it took a whole lot of strength not to give in to his sexy demands.
“Nope,” I responded immediately. “Not happening. Last time we did that, I got pregnant with Evie.”
He winked. “Exactly. And she’s perfect.”
“We do not need another baby right now, Kline!” I exclaimed on a whisper. “Two kids and two pets means we’re already outnumbered.”
His smile made my knees feel weak.
I slid out of his arms and backed away from his too charming, outright devilish smile. “You stay right there,” I instructed and pointed toward the floor his feet stood on. “And I’m going to go this way.” I pointed behind me, in the direction of the elevator. “Far, far away from your crazy ideas right now.”
“I love you,” he whispered.
It was moments like this that made it damn near impossible not to swoon right out of my stilettos. “I love you too,” I whispered back and walked toward the elevator doors. One hit for the down button and the cart dinged its arrival.
“Oh, and Benny?” Kline questioned as I stepped inside the elevator. He’d followed me to the doors and leaned casually inside.
“Yeah?”
“You and me—we’re a power team. We’ll never be outnumbered.”
As he stepped out of the way and the elevator doors closed, I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face.
My husband. He was too damn charming for my own good sometimes.
My smile stayed firmly in place as I tilted my head back to look at the floor numbers at the top of the elevator. Halfway down, my phone pinged with a text message. I rooted around in my purse and clicked to open it.
Dean: You owe me big-time, Pig Swindler.
Oh, shit. He’d opened the envelope…
I didn’t even have time to respond. Another text came mere seconds later.
Dean: Big. Time.
The second text contained a link. To Christian Louboutin’s website.
Thank God my husband is a billionaire…
I went ahead and clicked through on the link, figuring I was better off ordering Dean’s payoff now. I had no doubt he’d be expecting payment by the time of delivery of the animals, and even expedited shipping took a day or two.
The elevator pinged to indicate my arrival on the bottom floor, and the doors made a distinct sound as they slid open. Without looking up, I stepped forward and off, and unfortunately, walked right into a human.
“Oh, sh—sorry,” I said, stopping myself just before cursing at some stranger.
Warm hands circled my shoulders, and a familiar voice made me completely abandon the designer apparel search to look up.
“Kline,” I gasped. “What are you doing down here?”
I looked at the elevator behind me and back again. “How are you down here?”
He leaned forward and touched his lips to mine, grabbed my hand, and started toward the front doors of the lobby immediately.
I hurried at double my normal pace to keep up, a thrill running through me at this completely unplanned turn of events.
“Kline!” I snapped, my frustration at being in the dark the only thing helping me maintain my ability to be snippy about anything. My adrenaline from the unexpected excitement had my body humming.
He glanced back at me as he held the front door open and ushered me through, explaining, “The service elevator is a little faster.”
“Okay,” I mumbled, my focus fixated on trying to keep up as he pulled my hand tight to his chest to keep my body close and weaved our way through the New York sidewalk traffic like a pro. “But why? Where are we going?”
My husband winked. Apparently, verbal explanations had become overrated.
Fortunately, he didn’t maintain the mystery long, ducking into The Q, a hotel on the corner about a block up from Brooks Media. We went straight to the desk, where the clerk was waiting with a key in hand. My husband said nothing, and the clerk did nothing more than acknowledge, “Mr. Brooks,” as he handed over the key.
I let out a strangled giggle as we moved away from the desk and headed straight for the elevator bank on the opposite wall. “You know, if you weren’t the man you are to me, I’d be freaking the fluff out about your ability to walk in here and get a key without saying a word, like a freakin’ regular.”
Kline chuckled and pulled my hand at his chest up to his lips to kiss my knuckles softly. “I called on my way down at the office.”
“Oh…” I muttered. “Okay.”
Thank Jesus. But still…
“What are we doing?” I asked, in search of explanation once again. Kline dragged me into the elevator as it arrived, and the doors closed in front of us, closing us in on our own.
Still mindful of the cameras, I’m sure, Kline leaned down, the skin of his perfect lips skimming the shell of my ear, and whispered his answer. “We’re going to fuck.”
I blinked, and then, as soon as my body registered his words, clenched my thighs together to conceal the rush of wetness between my legs.
“Oh my God.”
“Raw. Hard. Sweet and fucking soft,” he whispered on. “Whatever you want. Just as long as I get to spend an hour in that perfect pussy of yours.”
“Sweet, sweet Jesus,” I chanted.
I could feel myself spasming between my legs from just his words. Suddenly, it seemed like a really fucking good idea to go off schedule for a little while.
The elevator doors finally opened, and Kline chuckled as I dragged him down the hall. Unfortunately, in my excitement, I’d forgotten I had no fucking clue what room we were in, and he had to pull me to a stop and change our direction.
“This way, baby,” he said, smiling widely. “I really love your enthusiasm, though.”
I blushed a little as we stopped in front of a room, and he set about unlocking it. The door clicked open, and he held it as I stepped through.
I started to look around, at the expensive white curtains, the chaise settee in the corner, and the fluffy cream duvet on the bed, but it all disappeared as the door fell shut with a slam and my husband’s adoring hands fell on me.
“Kline,” I whispered as his lips went to work on my neck, pulling the skin inside and nipping it with his teeth every so often. I tugged at my coat, but he was already divesting me of it, throwing it blindly at a chair behind him and then going back instantly to the buttons on the front of my blouse.
“Hottest woman I’ve ever seen in my life, baby.” His hands skimmed my body and around my hips to cup my ass. “You get me hard every goddamn time I see you.”
His hands came back to my last two buttons and made short work of them as he pressed his hands into my ass to prove it.
I moaned.
He pulled my opened shirt from my shoulders and unhooked my bra, so I helped him by pulling it down my arms and tossing it away. I heard fabric ripping, and then the heat of his bare skin hit my back.
“Holy shit,” I gasped, his hands fondling my breasts and rolling my nipples. “Did you just rip your shirt off?”
He spun me fast, and I teetered, but he steadied me at my hips and then lifted. I shrieked and grabbed at his shoulders as he walked me back to the bed and dropped me onto my back with a plop.
“Told you, baby,” he said with a grin. “I’m gonna fuck you, and I’m gonna do it for at least an hour. I’m not wasting time on my shirt.”
“You unbuttoned mine,” I pointed out.
He smiled and leaned down to circle my nipple with his tongue. Against my skin, he explained, “You care about yours.”
“Kline—”
“Quiet, baby,” he ordered as he pulled my skirt and panties down over my hips and tossed them away. “I’m busy.”
My eyes narrowed for the briefest hint of second…until his mouth closed over my clit and sucked.
Ho-ly shit.
His eyes burned as he watched me watch him. He worked me slow at first—just teasing me with his tongue with soft flicks and long licks—but as I started to moan, my blood pumping a blush into the skin all over my body, he upped his pace and intensity until I hovered at the peak.
My eyes closed and rolled, my back arching involuntarily as his hands squeezed at my hips roughly, and he hummed.
I started to fall, but he didn’t wait for me to finish, climbing up onto the bed, covering me with his body, and slamming inside. I wasn’t sure when he’d gotten his pants off, and I didn’t fucking care. All I needed was my husband’s enraptured face as he seated himself inside me.
Him and me? We were perfect.