Page 93 of The Secret Play

I did, and she dropped to her knees. “Are you okay?—”

I thought she had fallen. But she swallowed me into her mouth, working me into her throat as she stared at me through her lashes the whole time.

Fuck.

Gemma took everything I had to give her and wanted more. So I gave it all to her, weaving my fingers into her long red hair to keep her on my pace. Her tongue flicked against the head, and that extra sensation got me there even faster. I pumped into her lips, ecstatic and verging on delirium. It was too much, too fast, and exactly what I needed. Something unholy erupted from my throat as I came in hers.

After we pulled ourselves together, I needed the support of my desk chair. This crazy woman had made me weak in the knees. I leaned back against my chair, my chest heaving as I tried to gulp air in. Quickies weren’t our normal thing, but fuck, that was amazing. Gemma curled onto my lap, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on my shoulder as we basked in the afterglow. She was tracing my birthmark.

It felt like that mark had brought us full circle. Without it, I might never have known Winnie was mine. I still couldn’t believe Gemma was here. Or that she had agreed to marry me.

I didn’t believe in fate or luck. I believed you made your own path through hard work and dedication. But ever since getting to know Gemma, I had begun to wonder if some force in the universe had gotten us together. Whatever the case, this felt as though it was meant to be. Everything with her felt right.

Except the fact that she had been in my storage closet. “You were in the closet that whole time.”

She grinned, propping herself up on one elbow. “Guilty.”

“And you heard everything,” I continued, watching her carefully.

Her smile softened, and she nodded. “I did. And if I had any lingering doubts about you—which, for the record, I didn’t—but if I had, they would’ve disappeared the second you told Matthew you’d give up your job for us.”

I cupped her cheek, brushing my newly naked thumb over her skin. “You don’t know how close I came to losing it all tonight. If Matthew hadn’t?—”

She silenced me with a kiss. “But he didn’t. You’re still here, and so am I. And I’m glad it didn’t come to that.”

“Same here.”

Gemma’s grin turned mischievous as she sat up, her eyes sparkling. “Let me guess—Whitney was behind getting you back here?”

“She’s behind everything good around this place.”

“More than you know,” Gemma said, laughing. “I asked for her help with this?—”

“That’s how you got into my office? I thought it might have been some journalism school thing.”

Her eyes widened. “How so?”

“The intrepid reporter, breaking into buildings…it’s practically a staple trope in film noir.”

She pressed her forehead to mine. “You’re adorable. And for the record, no, we don’t learn how to break into buildings in journalism school.”

“Probably safer that way.”

“I learned how to do that from my mother, not college.”

I chuckled, but her expression didn’t break. “Wait—you’re serious?”

“Nico used to lock himself out of the house a lot when we were little kids, so Mom showed us how to break in safely by picking the lock.”

“Oh. I guess that’s a good skill to have if you’re bad at remembering your keys. Maybe you should teach Winnie.”

She smiled and shook her head. “I forget to charge my phone, Nico still forgets his keys. We’ll wait to see what she forgets and go from there.”

“So, it’s a family trait?”

“Yeah. Mom used to forget which bills came at the start of the month, and Dad always left the stove on.”

“Damn.” I made a mental note to watch for the stove thing with her and Winnie. After a beat, fleeting concerns came to mind. I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “I thought Matthew was going to fire me. Honestly, I’d made peace with it. If losing this job meant being with you and Winnie, it was a no-brainer. I’d even looked into other jobs?—”

---