Page 133 of One Big Little Secret

And as my free hand skims down to her ass, grabbing her until her moans taste like caramel, I can’t say I mindthiscapacity one damn bit.

Our routine continuesthrough the rest of this surreal conference.

She’s my woman for the giddy little real estate apes who now look at me with a newfound respect, especially the men who look on with boiling jealousy.

In bed, she’s mine in the most primal ways. My very own atlas of sin and seduction I trace with my hands and mouth.

It’s like I need her topography branded into my brain for life.

I can never bury myself in her tight little pussy enough.

I can never press her lips to mine close enough while I sink my greedy teeth into her tender flesh.

I can never leave her leaking enough of my come.

It’s lunacy how well she’s fallen into her role, warming my colleagues and my bed until I feel like I need a brick to the head to come back to Earth. Sometimes, I have to remind myself she’s not mine.

Not for real.

And whatever this madness is, it won’t continue. Honestly, it shouldn’t once we’ve left the bleached sands and canyons long behind.

But try telling my inner caveman that.

I’ve never been good at reasoning with that grunting, possessive fuck. When it comes to her, he has me in a chokehold.

The chemistry feels like a drug and it’s just as addictive.

When we’re not hobnobbing for business, we’re finding quiet spots around us, places where I can fuck her against a wall or in the back of the car.

It’s like we’re back on that casino boat for an extended lucky stay, acting stupid and reckless and horny as hell.

God Almighty, I’ve never been so horny in my life.

I wake up wanting her when I’ve had her three times the night before, even when she’s lying breathless in my arms after burying her head in a pillow so she stays quiet.

Insatiable.

That’s the only word for a thirst this rampant.

We’re at a quiet dinner alone when she taps her knee against mine.

I realize I’ve spaced out, staring and imagining how I’m going to remove that dress she’s wearing tonight.

It’s white and gold like the sun against white clouds.

Soon, it’s going to be a ghost.

Or maybe I’ll just bend her over the bed while she’s still wearing it. Maybe I’ll take her into the shower or out to the pool like last night and watch the stars dance in her eyes while I mount her and break her again and again, listening to her whimpers for mercy.

“Patton!” she hisses. “We’re supposed to be enjoying this, aren’t we?”

“I happen to be enjoying my dinner very much, thanks.”

“Enjoying itwith me.”

“I am, Lady Bug.”

She smacks my arm. “Can’t you wait until we get back? This place is too expensive to be thinking aboutthatall the time.”

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