Page 84 of Tempting

Nixon leans back so he can watch me the way he likes to and runs his deliciously rough hands up my body until he cups my breast and pinches my nipples, knowing exactly what he needs to do to get me there.

I come on a beautiful moan, my pussy throbbing around Nixon as he follows me over the cliff, and my name leaves his lips like a hallowed prayer only he’ll ever say.

I drop my forehead to his and breathe in his breath. Needing to be closer.

“Yes,” I whisper softly against his lips.

He lifts his head and looks at me with a new awe in his eyes. “Yes?”

“Really?” My normally crazy-confident man says, sounding a little shocked.

“Yeah, Nix. Really. I think it was always supposed to be us. It just needed to be our time. And we might have had a little push from my mom, but I don’t want to cry right now, so I’ll tell you about that later, okay?” My words are soft and sacred.

“It will only ever be us, baby.”

“I love you, Nixon Sinclair,” I tell him as I lay my head against his chest.

“I can’t fucking wait for you to be my wife, Mac.” He runs his hand over my hair, and I practically purr with contentment. “You gonna be Dr. Sinclair, baby?”

“Nope. I worked my ass off to be Dr. Hayes, Nix. I’m not giving that up. But I’ll consider Dr. Hayes-Sinclair.” I kiss above his heart, loving the sound of that.

“As long as you call yourself mine, you can call yourself whatever else you want, Mac. But you only wear my name from now on.” His hand runs over my ruffles again. “And maybe these panties.”

“Guess it’s a good thing there’s so many Sinclair jerseys to choose from,” I tease, and he spanks my ass.

“My name. My number, baby. Unless we’re at a football game. Then I might make an exception, but you better be wearing a big fat diamond ring by then.” Fuck, I love possessive Nix.

“If I say no, will you spank me again?” I tease, ready for this man again.

“Where do you want to be spanked?” he asks, his voice deepening.

“How about we go to bed, and I’ll tell you.”

He rises with me in his arms and licks into my mouth.

Fuck, I love this man.

“Nix,” I call into the bathroom where I left him in the shower. One of us has to get to work. “Your phone is ringing.”

Where the heck is my other shoe?

I hate rushing around. I like to be early for things. For everything, really. But waking up in Nixon’s arms makes it incredibly hard to want to get out of bed and get the day started. I’m okay with starting things, but they mainly involve the bed... and the shower.

Note to self—showering together does not save time.

That’s a myth.

A fun myth to test out... one that involves multiple orgasms because my man believes in going big or going home. But a myth, nonetheless.

I squat down to see if maybe Gordie took my seven-hundred-and-fifty-dollar, purple tweed Manolo Blahnik and decided to make it his personal bitch of a chew toy under the bed. Wouldn’t be the first shoe I’d lost to him. Probably won’t be the last.

Shit.

I knock Nixon’s phone off the bed when I pull the blanket off the floor.

“Nix... It looks like Hunter left you a text.” I recognize his agent’s name. He’s Easton’s agent too. Only as I set the phone on the nightstand in order to continue my hunt for my missing shoe, I see the text preview on Nix’s phone’s lock screen.

Hunter

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