Page 44 of Formula Fling

I shudder, my entire body going weak after the expenditure of energy that orgasm produced and for self-preservation, I lower us gently to the mattress. I roll to my side, bringing Posey to spoon in front of me and I think to myself,If I died right now, I wouldn’t complain about it.

At first, I’m too exhausted to string words together but then I notice that as the silence has stretched, Posey hasn’t said a word either.

My arm tightens around her waist and I give her a squeeze. “You okay?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

I smile, kiss the back of her head. “Can you speak?”

She grunts and shakes her head.

“Did I break you?” I ask.

“In the best of ways,” she whispers.

She snuggles back into me and that slight move… her coming to me for warmth, comfort, tenderness… it makes me feel bloody awesome. I’ve never been a cuddler or spooned a woman after we fucked. But I admit, it’s a damn good place to be with Posey.

It also compels me to ask, “I’m going to visit my parents this weekend. Some relaxation before we leave for Bahrain. Would you like to come with me?”

She doesn’t answer me right away and I can practically hear the gears turning in her head. Does this take us out of fling territory or can she spin it off as research?

And finally, she says, “Yeah… I’d like that.”

CHAPTER 15

Posey

Isit atthe small kitchen table hunched over my laptop. I’ve commandeered this place to do most of my work as Lex and I eat our meals at the island counter. My fingers fly across the keys as I schedule the next week’s worth of social media posts. It’s part of my daily grind as a romance author—planning out graphics, captions, and hook copy for Instagram and Facebook. This time, I’m using some particularly sexy graphics to tease my latest book release coming out next month. It’s a historical romance set in the Scottish Highlands so of course I have a gorgeous, muscled man in a kilt with the wind blowing his long hair. The image pops off the screen, and I carefully insert the purchase links, making sure everything looks seamless.

Lex, fully dressed and ready to go, stands just behind my chair, peering over my shoulder. His interest is casual but soon he leans in a little closer, brows furrowing as he reads the caption for one of the posts.

“‘He’s dangerous, reckless… but oh so irresistible,’” he reads aloud, his voice low with amusement. “Is this about me?”

I roll my eyes but can’t help the smile tugging at my lips. “Hardly. This guy’s the brooding, silent type. I’m still working out how to write someone as obnoxious as you.”

Lex laughs, nudging my shoulder with his. “Brooding, silent, dangerous… I could pull that off.”

I glance up at him and raise an eyebrow. “You? Brooding?”

Chills run up my spine as he puts his nose into my neck and nuzzles me. “You never know, Posey. I’ve got layers.”

It feels too good. Too intimate and tender and loving, and my heart can’t develop a liking for it.

So I push him away. “Layers like a stinky onion?” I tease, finalizing the last post and closing the laptop with a satisfied sigh.

“A sexy onion,” he corrects, voice rich with mock seriousness. “Now, come on. I want to get on the road before midday traffic picks up. My parents will be expecting us.”

I take a deep breath, my nerves firing at the reminder I agreed to go to Lex’s parents’ house for the weekend. I remind myself that today is only another casual day—just friends with benefits, despite how my heart sometimes somersaults in my chest when I look at him.

“Give me five minutes,” I say, standing up and stretching, feeling the tightness in my back from sitting too long.

Lex taps his designer watch and stares at me pointedly. “You’ve got two.”

I stick out my tongue at him but hurry to finish packing. He’d told me to pack light since we’re only staying the night. When I step from the bedroom with my overnight bag slung over my shoulder, Lex is already waiting by the door, his own bag in hand, looking at me expectantly.

“You weren’t kidding about the two minutes,” I mutter, shaking my head as I follow him out of the door.

I freeze on the top step outside, my jaw dropping at the sight parked in the driveway. A sleek, low sports car glimmers in the morning sun, all aggressive curves and impossibly smooth lines. Its orange paint looks almost liquid, and my insides flips at the idea of riding in that thing.

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