Page 51 of Bona Fide

I. Need. To. Get. Out. Of. Here.

Now.

“I need to go,” I quip, rounding his body to go grab my purse and small overnight bag from the room I was just in.

I honestly don’t want to know if it’s his.

I just want to forget I ever eye-fucked this place so hard and fell in love with it. Attention to detail, probably one of my worst traits when it comes to my actual life.

Didn’t bother to dig deeper into Wade—didn’t think it was appropriate or professional nor do I look up anyone that I work for. Should’ve though after the first time we fucked. When my feelings started to tweak a little bit, I should have been all up in his damn business like a normal chick would do.

Except, I’m not any chick.

Second, I wish I could forget the oven that was conveniently in the wall of this kitchen. The recessed lighting throughout the whole space, the stovetop on the kitchen island to make omelets in the morning for people.

I’ve imagined about twenty scenarios of me in this penthouse but never with Wade showing up in the middle of the night conveying that I’m all up in his personal space right now.

A large hand wraps around my waist as I walk down the hall, yanking me into a darkened room. Wade readily knows the space, clicking on a small lamp next to a large swivel barrel chair. The thing can seat at least three of me comfortably.

I’m spun around with a little shove as my ass gets to know the comfort of said chair as Wade ascends over me.

“I stayed with a friend,” he tells me, answering my previous question.

“And you came back here in the middle of the night to freak everyone out?” I chide, slowly moving away from him.

“Had something to do.”

“I really have to go.” I’m halfway up off the chair when one of his hands falls to my shoulder, barricading my escape.

Lowering himself down to me on his haunches, Wade becomes eye level with me. “Are you trying to leave me again because I don’t know how much more I can take of seeing your back unless…”

“This is really inappropriate for me to be here and—” His hands crawl up my upper, naked thighs.

“I think we’re way past that now, Miss Shelton. I came here tonight for my New Year’s kiss.”

My brows snap together. “Your what now?”

“There’s more,” he continues. Opening my mouth to speak, he beats me to it. “I need a kiss for the anniversary of the first time I saw you.”

He kisses my forehead that leads to a staggered breath leaving my lips.

“I need one every year on the first day we officially met.”

His lips brush my right temple, which sends heat coursing through my body.

“On the day you kissed me for the first time.”

He places a small peck to the tip of my nose, his hot breath so close to my mouth.

“On the night you let me fuck you.”

His lips caress the corner of my mouth, composing a needy pulse from between my legs.

“And tonight, Reagan, New Year’s. Where you can make anything happen, forget the past and start over.” His forehead presses into mine, and he whispers, “I want to start over.”

“I...we can’t.”

“Baby, I already told you that she is not my—”

---