by Max Monroe
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 were
n’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.
“To
ld 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.
Jingle Hell’s Bells
December 22nd
Thirty minutes into our car ride and Georgia was finally starting to get over the fact that Cassie and Thatch hadn’t followed through with their plans to ride with us.
Normally, I might have gloated that I’d known they wouldn’t be riding with us the moment she’d decreed we were leaving at eight a.m., but under these circumstances, with my wife this tense, I thought better of it.
Instead, I’d spent the time reminiscing over the moments where the view of the open road that led to an exciting destination was fun—adventurous, even.
That was before kids. Way, way before kids.
Forty-five minutes into our car ride and the famous golden arches that signified grease, burgers, and fries were a welcomed sight for not only Julia, but me too.
