Page 15 of The Proposal
And it got easier every time we saw one another. Granted, it was only a few times a year. After she ended things with DiNozzo, being around her on my trips home was even better. She was fun, inquisitive, and so fucking sweet. We could sit and talk all night long and have it feel like an hour.
Things might've gotten interesting back then if I hadn’t been working halfway across the world. Now that we’re both in Nashville?Things could get interesting.
“Come on, cutie.” I motion for her to follow me. “There’s a lot more to see.”
“Nah, I’m good. I’ll pull a chair up to the glass and sleep here. I’m easy to please.”
“Good to know. I’ll note that for later.”
She grins. “I thought you were waiting on me to beg.”
Fire shoots through my veins, and it takes every ounce of control I can muster not to lay her on that fucking table and tease her until she gives in.
“Keep it up,” I say. “I’ll have you doing it on your knees.”
Her flush deepens. The color staining her face and neck makes my cock throb.
“You wish,” she says, smirking.
Damn right, I do.
If Brock overheard this conversation, he’d murder me. No questions asked. And if I went through with it? He’d hurt me so badly that he’d end my career. There’s not a doubt in my mind about that either.
The worst part? I can’t blame him.
I like to think I’m not as bad as the media makes me out to be. The headlines make it sound like I’m cold and callous, blowing through women with no care in the world. And while I never feel attached to any of them, I do remember they’re someone’s daughter.
But sometimes respect isn’t what they want.
And what they want is something I won’t give them.Any of them.
Keep it moving, Brewer.
“I’m staying in this bedroom,” I say, clearing my throat and pointing at a door on the other side of the table.
“Great.” Blakely fixes the knot of dark hair on top of her head. “Where am I sleeping if I’m banned from the chair?”
“I’ll show you. Let’s get your bag first.”
She follows me into the foyer. “I think I’ll let you carry it this time.”
“Gee, thanks for letting me. You’re so nice.”
She laughs. “I have lactic acid in my arms, okay? I’m not used to that much physical exertion.”
“That’s your fault. I tried to get it for you.” I grab the handle of her suitcase and point at the closed doors with my other hand. “Powder room. I have no idea if there’s food in the kitchen. Brock and Ella’s room is down that hallway.”
Our footsteps pad softly against the stone floor. It fills the suite with a warmth I’ve yet to feel here.
“After you,” I say, sweeping my hand across the steps.
She looks at the landing above our heads. “My room is up there?”
“If you want the giant bathtub, it is.”
“I do want that.” Blakely starts up the steps, looking at me over her shoulder. “Good luck with that suitcase. Bet you wish you gave me a downstairs bedroom now, don’t you?”
Her ass cheeks peek out from beneath her cover-up.
