“Everything this weekend is about sex, Maurice.” She didn’t bother to grace him with a look this time, just kept scrolling through her emails. “I don’t know what it was, I just remember it started at nine.”
“You have your inbox open. Just find the welcome email and click on the agenda.”
“I’m checking my work emails.”
“The office is closed on Saturdays. And this weekend is a holiday, so you don’t need to check any of that stuff.”
“Work isn’t just relegated to nine to five, Monday through Friday.”
“Yeah, it is. That’s why it’s called the weekend—the week’s end, get it? Because it’s time for you to rest.”
Now she did give him that smirk again. “You’re ridiculous, and I know you better than that. Besides, I do sleep in until around six on Saturdays.”
“You call getting up at six sleeping in?” That alone should be a criminal act. And her looking as pretty as she did with her hair mussed and her cranky attitude was a little more on the sexy-as-hell side.
“Yep. I’m normally up at four.”
The sound he made reflected the pain he felt at simply hearing such an insanely early hour in the morning.
She shook her head. “The early bird gets the worm.” Her tone was light, her attention still set on her phone. “That’s what my grandmother used to say, and living in a house with five older brothers, it was true. My mom’s a nurse, and she worked the night shift for the pay differential. My grandmother was at home with us most of the time, and she got up with the chickens, cooking us a big breakfast every morning. If I wasn’t first at the table, my greedy brothers would scarf everything down before I got a plate.”
He’d never heard Des talk about her family before. He knew she had one because his mother had mentioned it at some point, but there’d never been a reason for the two of them to have a real conversation about it. “You’re from Chicago, right?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Why don’t you go home to be with your family?” Because for the last few years she’d been at his family’s house celebrating Thanksgiving with them.
“I’m busy. They’re busy.” She shrugged.
Her clipped responses told him she didn’t want to talk about that subject anymore, and he was happy to oblige. She already knew about his family, and still, if she’d started asking about them while they were lying partially naked in this nice warm bed on a Saturday morning, he wouldn’t want to discuss them, either.
Deciding she wasn’t going to pause checking work emails to look at the schedule, he rolled over to his side of the bed and grabbed his phone off its charger. Scrolling to the welcome email and agenda only took a few seconds.
“Morning Sex Mania,” he announced, unable to hide the rise in excitement from his voice. “That’s what we missed. Damn, we could’ve gotten some tips on great morning sex.”
She didn’t budge. “I don’t need any tips on good morning sex. All you need is the morning and a great partner. Boom. Done.”
With that said, he dropped his phone, rolled over again and scooted his very hard dick up against her ass, which was barely covered by those black lace panties.
“Well, we might as well get started.”
It had been Desta’s idea to forego the morning sex. This time she did need to go to her own room, for a shower, clean clothes and a breather. He’d been right about why she’d overslept, even though she’d never in a billion years admit that to him.
The sex had been great. That orgasm had clearly knocked her ass out for more than ten hours. She rarely ever slept that many hours straight. And then there was waking to the touch of his lips on her shoulder. That had felt too good. And too intimate, which was why she’d bolted up out of bed on her partially exaggerated quest to figure out the time. This weekend wasn’t about intimacy, it was about sex. Very good sex, if last night was any indication.
After showering and slipping into fitted gray pants and a matching turtleneck, Desta pulled on black knee-length boots. Working in the fashion industry had obviously worn off on her, because she was at the mirror applying makeup and styling her hair for the next twenty-five minutes. Diamond-stud earrings she’d purchased for herself as a birthday gift last year were quick to affix, as were the three silver charm bracelets she favored with her casual attire. A spritz of perfume and she was walking across the room to grab her phone and Dear Lover ID badge. Her cell buzzed as soon as she picked it up.
Meet me at the elevator in 5 min. We don’t want to miss Make-Up and Mimosas!
Initially, she grinned at Maurice’s text—he couldn’t be that anxious to get free mimosas. But then her body tensed in an all-too-familiar way as she stared at the text and the directive he’d given. Gordon used to give concise directions and expected them to be followed without hesitation. How many times had her snappy comebacks, honed from growing up with bossy brothers, led to heated arguments with her ex and him tossing out her favorite perfume or cutting her nice blouses into shreds? Too many to count. She didn’t want to recall any of that right now. With a shake of her head, she decided she was being foolish. She slipped her phone into one back pocket and the ID and room key card into the other, then headed for the door.
“Right on time,” Maurice said, tapping his watch when she approached the set of elevators on the far end of the floor.
“We could’ve taken the stairs.” Ignoring another ping of distress, she tried to keep things light. That was the key to this weekend, light and simple. Just the way their email exchanges had gone. If she didn’t let all the reasons they shouldn’t be doing
