Page 34 of Contingently Yours
His gaze flicks to mine, brow furrowed in confusion. My face heats. We’ve never actually had a real conversation about anything other than work or an argument.
“The ornament…you buy one every time we go to an airport or a new city,” I elaborate, opening the pastry box to busy myself.
“They’re for my tree. Why?”
Pulling a flaky roll out of the box, I shrug, at a loss for how to respond. I assumed they were a gift for someone special. Like maybe one of his women, his mother, or Aunt Vera. I wouldn’thave thought he was so sentimental, nor that he cared about his work enough to commemorate each of his stops by buying an ornament. Will he think of the time he spent with me on this trip when he looks at them?
“Nothing. I just didn’t peg you for a Christmas tree kind of guy.”
It’s true. I didn’t. I always imagined he spent holidays at fancy parties where the drinks were flowing, not at home surrounded by knick-knacks.
Scoffing, he starts scrolling on his phone again, but says, “They’re a giant sparkly night light that radiates the aura of childhood dreams. What kind of person wouldn’t like that? I leave it plugged in day and night for an entire month and just sit under the glow, transfixed. It’s…soothing.”
An image of Andrew in stocking-clad feet on a couch, ogling a Christmas tree with all of his tacky ornaments flitters through my head. It’s oddly endearing.
I tear a few pieces off my roll and eat them. I’m officially out of small talk. There are actually a million questions about Andrew that I’d like to know the answers to, but I’m not brave enough to ask. An exasperated sigh filters across the table, making me forget them.
“Are you going to be fucking weird from now on just because I know you have a crush on me?” he lets out.
“What?”
Throwing up a hand, he gestures to me. “You haven’t argued with me or given me a dirty look since you got here. You’re just sitting there like…”
“Like what?”
“Like some shy virgin who just received their first bouquet.”
Where does he come up with these analogies? “I…What? I’m just being normal. My normal self. And I’m trying not to argue with you because we have to sell properties together, act likewe’re a couple, and maybe because I’m just tired of arguing. It’s fucking exhausting.”
He stares at me. Unnervingly. Maybe not unnervingly, but it feels like it because I do feel like a shy virgin who just got flowers. Fuck. I hope he doesn’t see that too.
Quirking his brows, he looks impressed and then returns his attention to his phone. “About fucking time,” he mumbles in agreement.
When he says nothing more, I start to relax. Embarrassment averted. It’s not like he knows my skin feels taut underneath my clothes just from sitting this close to him. It’s not like he knows how good I think he smells right now or how I kind of missed his scent.
“Good. Because I was worried you were going to be all needy after you begged me to jerk you off the other day.”
My hand falls halfway to my mouth, and I drop the piece of roll from my fingers.Begged?I did not beg. Not exactly. He…antagonized me with…with the most blunt bedroom talk I’ve ever heard while he…
Shuddering right now is probably not a good way to convince either him or myself that I didn’t want or initiate whatever happened that morning. I still can’t believe how practiced his hand felt on my cock. Each slide, each squeeze, was confident and masterful. Sinfully breathtaking. I was helpless to the arousal he stirred in me.
Swallowing against the lump in my throat, I reclaim the morsel I dropped and school my features. Indifferent and callous, I remind myself and take a note from the Andrew Broadhouse school of behavior.
“I didn’t beg,” I murmur casually, shrugging. “Not even after you kept stroking my cock and grinding up against me like you couldn’t get enough of me.”
I hold my breath, knowing I probably don’t have anything bolder than that to come at him with. He’s always been better at the battles of wits than me. I think that’s what aggravates me the most about him, and in some ways, I’m also kind of in awe of it. My phone rings, saving me from finding out just how loud the thunder is that I’ve called down, judging by the heated look he’s shooting me from across the table.
“Hello?”
“Hey! You got a second to talk?” Julia’s voice comes over the line.
“Uh, yeah. Yeah, sure. What’s up?”
Instinct has me wanting to get up and find a private corner away from Andrew, but I fight the instinct. I’ve got nothing to hide and damn if I’m giving him the satisfaction of thinking I’m ever uncomfortable around him for any reason.
“Well, I wanted to talk to you about the bachelor party…”
“The bachelor party? You mean the bachelorette party?”
