Page 62 of Strictly the Worst

“Promise me.” He cups me with his palm and slides one finger inside. I gasp as he pushes a second one in, then moves the heel of his hand against me where I need it most.

“I…”

He kisses my ear, my jaw, the corner of my lips. “It’ll be our little secret, right?” His voice is turning me on as much as his fingers. He has this way of putting you in a trance.

A sex trance. I’m pretty much a zombie for this man.

And then he stops moving his hand entirely. Pulls his fingers out until I’m empty.

“What’s happening?” I ask as he lifts me from his lap and pulls my skirt back down.

The next moment there’s a knock at the door and I realize that Linc must have seen whoever it was walking up the steps to the cottage.

A blush steals up my face, but I’m also stupidly grateful that he made sure I was looking decent before our unexpected guest could see me through the window.

My thighs are still shaking as he strides over to the door and opens it. “William?” he murmurs.

Oh, our concierge. I wave over at him, and he smiles back.

“Sorry to interrupt, but the phone isn’t working,” he says.

“What phone?” Linc asks.

“The hotel phone. Mr. Gold has been trying to call you. He’d like you both to join him for dinner tonight. At his house.”

“James wants to see us tonight?” Linc asks. He looks almost pissed off. “Is he here already?”

William nods. “He arrived an hour ago. His business was wound up early. He asks that you be ready for dinner at eight. I’ll be here at seven-thirty to pick you up.”

I glance at my watch. It’s already six.

“Okay.” Linc glances over his shoulder at me and I shrug.

So much for practicing our presentation tonight. But if the client wants us, then the client gets us.

The customer always comes first.

It’s three a.m. and we should be asleep but Linc is currently holding my hips, staring up at me like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. I’m straddling him and he’s inside of me, his hands moving me up and down in a rhythm that’s making both of us gasp.

We didn’t get back to the cottage until an hour ago. James Gold was absolutely delighted to see us – well mostly Linc – and spent the whole night regaling him with stories of mutual friends and acquaintances. He was charming to me, too. But it felt like the longest of nights not being able to touch each other.

Every time our eyes met all I could think of was how much I wished we could be alone together.

As soon as we got back to the cottage he swung me over his shoulder and carried me to the bedroom, while I laughed, tapping ineffectively at his back and demanding he put me down.

“I’ve been waiting all fucking night to touch you,” he told me. “Don’t tell me to let you go again.”

And there he was. Sweet Salinger. The man who knows how to make me feel good in every way.

Right now he’s making me see stars as he flutters his tongue against my nipple and thrusts into me, his hands still grasping my hips as I fall into another pit of perfect oblivion.

“Tessa,” he rasps, surging inside of me. This is the second condom we’ve used since we came back from dinner. We’re like two kids at an all-you-can-eat buffet, with a timer hanging over our head.

Because tomorrow we have the presentation and then we go home.

When we both manage to catch our breath he pulls me into his arms and kisses my cheek.

“You called me Tessa again,” I say sleepily against his chest.

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