Page 55 of A Ticking Time Boss

“Oh my God.” Her breathing catches on the other end, and then catches again, before she moans softly in my ear. It’s long and drawn out and I can’t bear it for a second longer. Pleasure explodes from my spine, down my thighs and through my cock. I spill onto my stomach, pumping myself in hard strokes.

Behind my closed eyes is only starlight and Audrey.

“Fucking hell,” I curse.

She gives a breathless laugh. “Wow.”

My tired right hand falls to the bed bedside me. I stare up at the ceiling, trying and failing to catch my breath. “I haven’t come that hard in ages.”

“You came?”

I laugh. “Only with the force of a thousand suns, yeah.”

“I like that,” she says, and she sounds pleased. Almost proud. “I did too, actually.”

“I noticed. I liked that, too.”

I smile at the ceiling. I feel ten feet tall. A hundred. I wonder if I could ask her now if she’d go out with me and if she’d say yes. If she’d ask me the same, I’d give her anything.

“When do you get back? To New York?”

“Saturday evening,” I say.

“Oh. That’s good to know,” she says. “Carter, I don’t know… what happens now? Will this make it awkward?”

“You and awkwardness,” I say. “No. It won’t. You and I are the same as we were before.”

“Friends. And potentially daters,” she says, and then she giggles. It’s a very un-Audrey sound and it makes me smile. “God, I can’t believe I just did this with you. The wine definitely helped.”

“You’d been drinking before this?”

“Yes. Just a bit. We went to a wine bar.”

I close my eyes, and it’s not in pleasure this time. She’s been drinking. Did I pressure her into this somehow? And that fucking date. “Right.”

“Thank you, Carter. I don’t… wow. I think I’ll sleep like a baby after this.”

“Good. I’ll see you when I come back.”

“I look forward to it,” she says, and the shyness in her voice cuts straight through my chest. I don’t know what to think. Don’t know what to do. “Good night, Carter.”

“Night, kid.”

TWELVE

“Heading out already?” Declan asks dryly. He’s looking at my jacket with a frown. The blazer he’s wearing today isn’t tweed, but it has elbow patches. His hair looks like it’s been in a wind turbine and I bet it’s a hundred percent intentional.

“Yes,” I say, tying the waistband of my coat. “I have a dentist’s appointment, and I’ve already run it by Booker.”

His frown turns into a sympathetic smile. “Oh. I’m sorry. Good luck.”

“Thanks. Two wisdom teeth, and then an evening spent working at home. It’ll be fantastic.”

“Think you’ll be able to work on that anaesthesia? Send me a copy of the article you write, will you? I need a laugh.”

“Very funny,” I tell him, but I’m smiling, and he gives me a little wave. He’s warmed up to me, it seems.

I leave the frenzy of the office behind. The newsroom has two new staff members, which raised more than a few eyebrows company-wide considering the general hire freeze. Both are former private investigators.

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