Page 81 of Mr. Hook-up

“I’ll have our assistant work out the details and book the hotel.”

“Have her plan an extra night at the end of the trip,” I suggested. “I’ve never been to Berlin. I’d like a little time to explore.” I looked at Drake. “I don’t know how you feel about that since you’ve already gone. We can have our assistant book you a commercial flight back if you’d rather leave early.”

I wanted to give her an option.

I also wanted Holden to see me come up with the idea in front of them so he wouldn’t suspect anything was happening between us when I randomly extended the trip.

“I’ve only spent a little bit of time there,” she admitted. “An extra night will be kind of nice.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Holden said.

He left the office, the two of us now alone. I checked my watch and stood up. “I’ll see you tonight.”

She said nothing until I got closer to the door. “Easton?”

I turned around. “Yeah?”

“I saw what you did back there, Mr.Slick.” She was grinning.

I returned the expression. “Are you saying it was a bad idea?” As her smile grew, I added, “I didn’t think so,” and I walked out of her office with a raging hard-on.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Drake

I stood in front of the refrigerator, checking each bottle of creamer until I found one flavored with vanilla and made of oat milk. This office certainly didn’t lack for options when it came to food or drinks, an amenity I appreciated, among so many others. The moment I spotted the blue carton, I grabbed it off the shelf, and as I turned around, I collided with something.

Something as hard and dense as brick.

Something that smelled incredibly spicy.

My gasp silenced as I met Easton’s stare, and I peeled my face off his shirt, a material that was the same color as his eyes.

“I didn’t even hear you come in,” I said softly.

He rubbed his short beard against my cheek before he kissed it. “I know. I can tell.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t scream.”

“Baby ...” His fingertips nipped my waist. “Maybe that’s what I wanted.”

I gently hit his arm, shoving him away. “We’re at work ...remember?”

He laughed as he backed up to the other side of the kitchen, leaning his butt into the edge of the counter as he looked at me.

Why did he have to be so handsome?

His hair was still wet from the shower we had shared this morning, a routine that seemed to happen whenever I stayed the night. The vintage T-shirt he’d put on clung to his chest, showing his muscular pecs. Past the short sleeves were well-defined, veiny arms that had lifted me a few hours ago, like I weighed nothing more than a feather, and moved me into all the positions he wanted me in.

They bent me over.

They held me against his body, the wall, the bench under his shampoo shelf.

I could still feel the burn of his whiskers on my face.

On the insides of my thighs.

Oh hell.

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