Page 116 of Look, Don't Touch

“Yes.” My grin gives me away.

Nat’s brows shoot high. She chances a look over her shoulder, lifts a hand as if to get someone to hold tight, and then shimmies into my office, clicking the door behind her.

“Stamina for days, am I right?” She beams.

I laugh, and the muscles in my abdomen and legs make me pay the price.

“Too right.” I hobble to the door, grab the frame, and prop myself up. “I’ve never had this much sex in my life. Day after day after day.” I fan myself. “I’m not complaining, but my body is.” My grimace is real. “She can’t keep up.”

It’s been four days since we started fucking, and we haven’t stopped, except for the essentials.

“You’re going to have to tell him to calm down.”

My lips poke out.

“Or I will,” she adds.

I flip her the bird.

“Seriously, your bodies aren’t used to all the handling. Now that you’ve found each other, I suspect you’ll have plenty of time to break each other in gently.”

There hasn’t been much gentleness about our handling, which I’m totally on board with. My body, on the other hand. Not so much.

“I’ll bring you a bottle of electrolytes and a couple of pain pills.”

“Who’s in the waiting room?”

“I’ll tell you after you take care of business.” She shoos me toward the bathroom and slips away before I can say more.

I take care of my business and wash my hands. When I look in the mirror, I hardly recognize the bubbly, smiling woman staring back. She has bright eyes and glowing skin.

When I come out, Nat waits by my seating area with a bottle. I take it and swallow a few gulps. Then she hands me a couple of over-the-counter meds. I pop them back and swallow them down with more of the tangy liquid.

“Thank you.” I wipe my mouth and let my gaze slip to the entrance. “So who’s here?”

It’s not Arlo. He wouldn’t wait quite so patiently. It’s not Astor because she came to see me before business hours for her first sexual reprogramming session. Plus, we’ve been texting all day. I’d know if she was here.

“A surprise.” Nat practically glows. “Have a seat. I’ll send them in.”

For a second, I think it might be Laurent coming to ask for my aunt’s hand in marriage. Their talks have been deep and frequent. Still, she’s not that happy. If he were here, she’d be bursting out of her skin.

Nat disappears through the door. I try to sneak a peek, but it’s no use. I sit, facing the door, and wait.

The more time passes, the closer I am to the edge of my seat. To hell with my well-worn insides. I’m about to jump up and run out there. A noise filters in, like something hard hitting the door. Then it swings open.

Hotaru hefts a tall wooden crate and shimmies through the doorway. Nat reaches in to close the door for him. He gives her a nod of thanks before turning toward me.

I’m struck by his beauty as though it were a baseball bat to the chest. Sure, I’d seen him before, but I was occupied with the hellscape of my past breathing down my neck. Sure, I’m with Arlo, and some people think that I shouldn’t notice, but I’m not dead.

The man is tall and wide, with a trim build. He has a captivating presence. It can’t compete with his face. He has a model pout paired with an aristocratic nose, accentuated with a sharp jaw and even deadlier cheekbones. Still, his eyes take the win without trying. They’re dark and soulful, as though if you get too close, you’ll be able to see his every thought and desire.

“Hotaru.” Despite the impact of his presence, I jump to my feet. “Konnichiwa.” I offer him a small bow, ignoring the pain in my body.

Arlo’s guy leans the odd package against the side of the chair opposite mine and faces me once more. His gaze is warm and kind. He bends at the waist, lower and deeper than I did. It gives me an opportunity to study his ink black hair pulled back at the top of his head into a small bun.

“Hailey.” He straightens and pins me with a look I can’t quite discern. “I apologize for interrupting.”

“Not at all.” My hands go up in a cupped fashion, aiming for the chair. “Please, sit with me.” He unbuttons the jacket of his three-piece suit and sits. I follow. “Can I get you anything to drink?” Then I remember it’s lunchtime. “Or eat?”

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