Page 27 of Rules Of Engagement: St. Louis
“Okay, well, I won’t hold you. Love you again.”
“Have a good night, Daddy.”
I ended the call and sat in my car for a long moment, thinking about duty, sacrifice, and the things we do for the people we love. My father had given everything for his country and was still fighting for basic dignity. I ran a business that many people would judge, but it allowed me to take care of the man who had taken care of me my whole life.
Chapter
Five
CHRISTIAN
The package from Tiffany& Co., sat on my kitchen counter and I stared at it for far too long. It was an addition to the bracelet I’d been eyeing. Now with added sentiment. I’d ordered it on a whim three days ago, and now I wasn’t sure how she’d respond once I gave it to her.
Custom earrings. White gold with tiny emeralds. Her birthstone.
Because apparently, I’d lost my damn mind somewhere between watching her add spices to the spice rack for my use and realizing she did in fact enjoy those moments, however small, when I prepared a home-cooked meal.
Today marked one year since Naomi’s proposition changed the trajectory of my life with what was now the most addictive drug I’d ever wanted - her.
At our shared space, I slipped the small box into my jacket pocket and focused on setting the scene, dimming the lights to that golden amber she preferred. I lit the candles she would pretend not to notice and queued up the jazz playlist that had somehow become our favorite. Tonight belonged to us, and nooutside interruption could impact us until we departed. I was looking forward to this.
I’d ordered from Marcelli’s instead of cooking. Osso buco, the same dish we’d shared on my birthday six months ago when she’d surprised me with dinner. She’d looked at me across the candlelit table and said, “Happy birthday, handsome,” in that deep, sexy ass Martha Kitt tone. It was a night I would never forget.
The sound of her key in the lock sent anticipation racing through my veins. She entered and closed the door quietly behind her.
“Traffic was murderous,” she said. “You would not believe the backup on?—”
She stopped mid-sentence as she rounded the corner, and I was punched in the chest at the sight of her. The black dress mummified her arms, back, and belly, exposing brown cleavage at the opening of her breasts. The flare at her hips stopped mid-thigh, and gold jewelry accessorized her look. She was stunning… with hair that laid loose, slightly tussled from the September wind, and minimal makeup made her look more exquisite than any woman I’d ever seen.
“Well, hello there,” she said, sultrily.
I was leaning against the kitchen island, my sleeves rolled up, a wine glass in hand, trying to look casual when everything about this moment felt anything but.
“You are so got damn gorgeous,” I said. “Fuuuck me...”
Her eyes traveled over me slowly, appreciatively. “I plan to.”
My dick stretched into a brick in my pants.
“You clean up nice, Mr. Valentine.”
“I do what I can.” I pushed off from the counter, crossing to her with the glass of wine I’d already poured. “Did you have a rough day conquering the world?”
“I can’t complain. Besides, someone has to do it.” She accepted the wine, her fingers brushing mine and causing heat to shoot up my arm. “Besides, I had motivation to finish early today.”
“Did you now?”
“Mmm.” She took a sip, her eyes never leaving mine over the rim. “Something about a very talented man cooking for me.”
“I didn’t cook tonight.”
“Even better. That means you’ll have more energy for other activities.”
I stepped closer, close enough to catch her perfume—peach and grape, and I craved to taste her pulsating pussy on my tongue.
“What kind of activities did you have in mind?”
Her lips curved into a smirk. She swallowed her wine, set down the glass, and reached for my belt. In her hands, she twisted, loosened, unbuckled my pants, and zipped them down.
