It all feels a little too easy, though. My first time with Paul left me wondering if it had been a mistake, while this? This is just comfortable when it should be awkward.
He shifts again, and I tense when his dick hits me again.
“It’s perfectly normal, you know? Morning wood. I could get all doctor-ly on you and give you a really long list of complicated medical terms to explain why it does what it does, but I’ll just say it’s indicative of a healthy male. You know, in case last night wasn’t proof enough for you.” His playful tone is all I need to hear to know he really is too good to be true.
“No explanation is necessary.”
“So, it was proof enough for you?”
I look up to find a grin wide on his lips and his eyes half-open.
“I thought we were supposed to measure things in satisfaction?” I quirk an eyebrow.
“True. Very true. I guess I need to up my game then.”
I freeze when he stretches, partially rolling on top of me, my body awakening fully to the feel of every long, hard inch of his weight on me.
“What?” I laugh.
“Getting my satisfaction ruler out.”
Slade grabs something off my nightstand and then retreats to his side of the bed. To my surprise, he’s holding the napkin from our dinner at Metta’s up in the air so we can both look at it.
“What? You kept it?”
“Of course, I did,” he says. “You didn’t think I was going to leave Blade’s To-Do list for just anyone to accomplish, now did you?”
“Why is the first one crossed out?” I ask.
“Because he definitely knows you were the better choice.”
“Whatever.” I laugh and swat at him.
“No, I’m serious. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you that night.”
“He can look all he wants. There is no going back there with him.”
“Really?” he asks.
“Definitely.”
Silence falls over the small cabin. “We’re halfway to crossing off the second one,” he murmurs.
“We are?”
“We know our history.” He shifts onto his elbow, a gleam in his eyes. “We just need to see how long those legs of yours are.”
“I figured you had plenty of time to study them last night.”
“I was a little busy enjoying other things.” His dimple deepens with his smile, and between that and the look in his eye, that delicious twist in my lower belly tightens.
He runs his hand down the length of my hip to my knee, his hand resting there like an electric shock to my system.
“And how exactly do you plan to measure their length.”
His lips twist as he fights a smile. “In hands.”
“Like a horse?” I laugh.
“I’m surprised a city girl like you knows that.” His hand runs back up to my hip, and when it moves down again, it takes the sheet with it. “There are other means of measurement, you know.”
“Like?” I ask, not trusting my own voice to speak.
“Like with my tongue.”
“Oh.” It’s little more than a squeak.
“You seem to make that sound a lot,” he teases as my pulse starts racing and the delicious soreness from last night begs to be tested again.
I’m not sure what it is that makes me turn to look at him at the exact angle that I do, but it gives me a clean line of sight to the nightstand.
And the digital clock that tells me I have ten minutes to get to my first meeting.
“I’m late!” I shriek as I bolt out of bed like a woman on a mission.
His chuckle rumbles through the room as he props his pillow against the headboard and leans back against it to watch me scramble.
I run to the bathroom, too preoccupied with being late to worry about being attacked by a bear. Five minutes later, I’m back in the room, hopping from foot to foot, trying to put my shoes on.
“What’s this morning’s meeting?” he asks.
“Who knows? How to berate your employees so they hate your guts?” I mutter.
“Sounds like a fun one.”
I glance over to him as I grab my notebook. His hand is behind his head, his hair is sticking up from the fingers he just ran through it, and one of his tanned legs is wrapped around the white sheet.
He’s breathtaking. Even in my flustered state, it’s hard not to notice.
“I’ll be back at God knows when to get ready for our first group activity,” I say with a fake pump of my fist in excitement.
“Can’t wait.” He smiles.
“What are you going to do while I’m gone?”
“Cause some trouble.” He shrugs. “Wreak some havoc.”
He already has.
On me.
Blakely
“Let’s start with you, Blakely, since it seems you couldn’t be bothered to make it here on time this morning.” Heather’s smile is anything but warm as she tries to pass off her comment as benign.
“Gladly.” I sit up straighter in my chair, refusing to take the bait. “What would you like to start with?”
Heather takes a sip of her coffee as the rest of the ladies sitting at the circular table pull out their pens to take notes.
“And what’s the point of this?” Minka asks. Clearly, she isn’t a morning person and is probably pissed that she was here on time when I wasn’t.
“Our goal is to better understand how to be constructive with criticism in order to keep the team moving forward.” She glances down at her pad of paper. “I’m going to give you a scenario, Blakely, and then you explain to the group how you’d handle telling your coworker that the idea doesn’t fit with the direction the company is taking on a campaign.”
“Okay.” But I don’t trust her as far as I can throw her.
“Let’s all look at the first slide, shall we?”
I glance to the screen, and my brow slightly pinches with confusion. Even though my name is blacked out, I know it’s my proposal and graphics from a campaign I spearheaded a
