His hands find my hair, and I sense the moment I’m no longer in control. Thomas guides me with speed and rhythm, urging me faster. After everything we did, he has to be close. And then he’s holding me still, and pushing deeper into my mouth, and deeper still. His breath is coming short and fast and I can tell he’s close. I suck him hard, and I get a warning a second before the end—he freezes and groans, and my mouth is filled with the salty taste of him. His cock jerks in my mouth as I swallow, and his fingers tighten in my hair.
I look up at him, and I see when he comes down off the high of his orgasm and looks down at me. His eyes are wide and dark, still caught up in his lust, and in awe that he sees me kneeling in front of him. Releasing him, I give him a knowing smile. “Is that what you wanted?”
“It was better.” He lifts me to my feet and pulls me against him. “Are you hungry? Do you need anything?”
“Why?” I ask. “Are you kicking me out already?”
Thomas laughs. “No. I’m taking you back to bed, and once we’re there, I don’t want you to leave..”
“Food,” I say. “Food would be good.”
Once we’re in the kitchen, Thomas heats up some pasta. It looks and smells delicious. I drink some water and enjoy the companionable silence. It seems weird, because usually I have to know someone a while before I can exist in silence with them, but with Thomas it seems natural.
We’re both deep into our pasta when he breaks the silence. “I’d like to see you again.”
He doesn’t look like he’s joking. “So you can kick my ass at pool again?”
“No, we can skip the pool. Maybe actually go to dinner.”
Suddenly I’m not hungry anymore. It’s one thing to go to bed with the man who holds my dad’s livelihood in his hands—the same man who I pledged not to see again—but an actual date? This is no longer a bet to get rid of a loan. It’s just an excuse to spend more time together. I know I shouldn’t, but I want that too.
I have to admit that Thomas isn’t the horrible monster he’d grown to be in my imagination. But I brush past his mention of dinner. “Well you’re definitely going to see me again. I imagine we’re going to see a lot of each other until stuff at the bakery is worked out.”
Thomas goes quiet, looking down into his pasta. “I’ll talk to my father about the loan,” he says. “I’ll see if I can get him to extend the terms. But he’s going to want to see improvement in the numbers.”
“Why are you trying to help if it could hurt your standing in the company?”
It’s wired into me to believe that Logans are bad. Him helping my father is not something I’m quite ready to believe in.
“I don’t enjoy seeing anyone in this situation. The restaurant industry is hard, especially a bakery, and especially someone without experience. In the grand scheme of things, the money your father owes us is everything to him, and not much to us. I don’t see why there can’t be room for compromise.”
I honestly don’t know what to say to that. “That would be amazing. Thank you.”
He smiles, and there’s nothing behind it but happiness. No angle he’s trying to work.
“You know what else would be amazing?” he asks.
He comes around the counter and picks me up off the stool. “Having you underneath me again. I plan on fucking you until the morning.”
I laugh. “You really are ambitious.”
“Yes, I am.”
Morning comes bright and early, and I wake to the scent of coffee. Sunlight shines through the windows and I sit up in bed, stretching my arms. I’m buried in a pile of fluffy blankets, my hair is a mess, and I’m sure that a picture of me would scream I had amazing sex all night.
And I did have amazing sex all night. Thomas has stamina and is an incredibly good lover. I was a puddle of a person by the time he finished with me, and I slept better than I have in ages.
I tumble off the bed, nearly losing my balance, and start searching for my panties. I was so consumed with Thomas last night that I didn’t consider that my father would worry if I didn’t come home. I find my underwear and clothes and make my way to the bathroom.
My makeup is smeared across my face, and I take a few minutes to wash up and brush my hair. My attempt to make myself look not so thoroughly fucked. By the time I’m done, I’m pretty sure I can pass as normal. Maybe. I mean probably not but there’s not much I can do about that.