Page 19 of Last First Time
I hide inside and yank at my hair while I worry about the forms. I hate paperwork and bureaucracy, and the whole process leaves me with a sick feeling in my stomach like I’m begging for a handout. I remember my parents occasionally ending up at the food pantry, and how the workers had always looked at us like we were trash. Or thieves. Or thieving trash.
There’s a commotion as someone tries the front door. I sigh, but come on. The lights are off and there’s a note and everything. Obviously, there’s no reason to not go away.
The jiggling noise gives way to a loud, recurrent knocking. I am going to have to get up after all, and then try not to cause serious bodily harm to whoever is bothering me.
It’s Magic Mayor himself, holding a giant box almost as big as he is and grinning with all of his stupid beautiful Rich Boy face. I am definitely going to stab him. How dare he show up here looking all gorgeous instead of like something that had been dragged around through a pile of bourbon and self-pity last night?
“What?” I bark at him, unlocking the door violently and giving him the death glare.
“I brought you a present.” He smiles sweetly at me.
“You should be hiding under some blankets and dying of a hangover. Now go away. I’m doing the horrific loan paperwork you seduced me into completing.” I turn around, but don’t lock the door again, so he follows me in.
I heave out a huge sigh. “At least lock up behind you so nobody else gets any dumb ideas about coming in today.”
“Don’t you want to open your present, pretty K.T.?” I can hear the smile in his voice. I want to kick him, but I also want to kiss him until he shuts his mouth up and takes all my clothes off.
“Depends.” I turn to face him as he locks up. The bar is dark, but there’s enough light that I can see his shape, tall and strong, the lines of his elegant face, the glitter of his bright blue eyes.
“Oh? What does it depend on, K.T.?” Again, with that teasing note in his voice. All signs point toward kicking him right now.
“Is it a good gift or a crappy gift?” I shrug, feigning nonchalance, but he knows better.
I love presents. Even those crummy little toys in Happy Meals make me almost ecstatic. It was probably from growing up without presents, so now I hoard them like a squirrel stocking up nuts for the winter.
My parents have given me speech after speech about how materialism and consumerism will be the downfall of modern society, but all I wanted when I was growing up was a pretty doll and maybe some dress up clothes. And now that I’m older, I suspect the lack of gifts during my formative years was more attributable to my parents always being broke rather than any deep held hippie beliefs.
I love my parents. Don’t get me wrong. But they have always been as poor as dirt. They always acted like it didn’t matter as long as they had each other, but I went to bed cold and hungry often enough that I know it does matter. Money matters more than any stupid love story.
So when Reed waggles that huge box at me, my inner kid gives a shriek that would have broken glass. He knows enough about me to get that I’m excited about his present, so of course he drags it out as long as possible.
“Come on, Kar,” he croons. “At least come and unwrap this giant bow.” He runs a finger against the huge red ribbon.
I involuntarily slide closer toward him. Crap. I can’t believe I am going to cave so easily over a big fancy box full of mystery gift. I was supposed to be giving him all withdrawn mood and aloof attitude today, to offset the tear-my-clothes-off-and-hump-him-all-over-the-stairs from last night, but I am failing spectacularly.
Instead I’m thinking up no less than eleven naughty things we could do with that gorgeous length of ribbon. I’ve already seen the spanky side of my favorite hot mayor with benefits, and I personally believe that a little light bondage between friends is always a good way to deepen a relationship.
“Karisma.” His voice is rough, and he has somehow crossed even closer to me, box left behind on one of my grubby tables. “What are you thinking about, you naughty girl?”
I bite my lip. “Personal and corporate financials.” I give a low, sensual moan and slide my eyelids shut. “You know how sexy tax returns and bank statements are.” I lick my lips and gyrate a little.
I can smell him, feel the heat from his body right before he ravages my mouth, a press of teeth and tongue and sex, until we both have to come up for air. “You’re a liar, Karisma Troudeau. That means you’re a very bad girl. And you know what happens to bad girls, don’t you?”
I press my thighs together. I love this version of Kade, the dominant and punishing one who probably is teasing, but maybe also likes to spank me when I’m naughty. When he gets really invested in this role with me, it makes me so hot I feel like my entire body could go up in flames.
“Tell me,” I pant, still trying to catch my breath from the most recent hottest kiss of my life. “Tell me what you’re going to do to me, Kade.”
He bites my earlobe, then my neck. “I’m going to take you into your office and make you finish all of your loan paperwork.”
My eyes flick open. Hold up here. One of us has definitely gotten really bad at the Hot Spanky Mayor game in the last few seconds, and it isn’t me.
“But don’t you think I’ve been so much more bad than that?” I bite my lip and feign shyness. “Sir?”
He growls. “Kar, don’t do this to me. Now finish your stupid paperwork so we can get on with the sexy part of the evening. You’re going to want to do every naughty thing you can think of to me when you see what’s in that box.” His dimple kicks in for extra handsomeness. “Maybe even twice.”
I sigh. What a grade A jerkcake he’s turning out to be. Here I am, wasting time on literally everything but the horrible mountain of loan paperwork, and first, he has the nerve to show up, and second, he has the gall to make me finish my work.
“Fine, but at least keep me company while I do it. I’m almost done.” I stomp off toward my office.
