Fight with Me
Page 37

“Oh, God, Nate!”  I pulsate around him, milking his cock and those amazing silver balls with my pussy and he bites his lower lip, then clenches his teeth as I feel him fall over the edge, his hips grinding into mine, hands gripping my ass so tightly it must be bruising me, as he comes inside me.
He holds me there, against the wall, for a long minute, both of us gasping for air, gazing at each other.  I rhythmically run my fingers through his hair and he places his lips gently on mine, brushing back and forth, kissing me sweetly.
“You are so sweet,” he murmurs.  “You’re mine, do you understand?  No matter what happens.  You. Are. Mine.”  His eyes and voice are raw with emotion, and I feel tears prick the sides of my eyes.
“Yes,” I whisper.  “I’m yours, Nate.”  Where is this coming from?
He shudders one more time and slips out of me, gently lowering me back to my feet.  He cups my face in his hands and runs his nose down along mine before kissing me chastely and pulling away, shutting off the water, and leading me out of the cavernous shower to dry off.
“What in God’s name is this music?” he asks with a scowl.  Fergie is singing Glamorous.
“Hey, I love this song.”  I smack his ass as I walk past him to his bedroom to root through my suitcase for clothes.
“Your taste in music sucks, baby.”  He pulls a black t-shirt over his head, and then steps into a pair of old worn blue jeans.  No underwear.
“I like listening to happy music while I cook,” I explain calmly.
“Rock is happy.” He plants his hands on his hips and watches me pull on my jeans and a blue tunic top.
“So is this.”  I shrug and walk past him into the bathroom to blow my hair dry and secure it back in a ponytail.
“Why are you watching me?” I ask.
“I like watching you.” He responds, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Are you done working?” I ask.
“No, I have a few more calls to make.”
“Do you need any help?”  I feel guilty.  I’m sure there’s something I can do to help.  He’s my boss, for Pete’s sake.
“No, I’ve got it.  I’ll have some things for you at the office in the morning.”
“Okay.”  Happy with my hair, I turn and lean my bottom against the vanity and gaze at him.  “Is this getting weird for you?”
He frowns, perplexed.  “Is what getting weird?”
“Us, working together, practically living together.”  Fuck.  Now he’s going to think I want to live with him.  “I mean, we don’t really live together, but we’re together all the time.”
“Work isn’t weird for me.  We only see each other a few times throughout the day.”  He pushes away from the door and walks to me, leaning his hands on the vanity at my hips, bringing his eyes level with mine.  “I want to be with you as much as possible outside of work.  This is when we’re us, with no pretenses.  Is it weird for you?”
“I don’t know,” I shrug and lower my gaze to his chest, but he captures my chin in his fingers and makes me meet his stare.
“Look at me, and be honest.  I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, Julianne.  Not about us.”
“I’m not uncomfortable.  I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.  There are moments at work that are weird.  I won’t deny that.”  I run my hands up his strong arms and over his shoulders to rest them on his muscular chest.  “You’re my boss.  If you decide to end this, you could also end my career.  It’s a sticky place to be for me.”
He frowns again, his eyes so serious.  “I know you have to trust me, Julianne.  I have to trust you too.  It works both ways, you know.”
That hadn’t occurred to me.  If I chose to end this, or if I was a bitter, scorned woman, I could ruin his career in a heartbeat.  Not that I would ever do that.  It’s not my style.
The trust is on both sides, equally.
I stroke his cheek with my fingertips and he closes his eyes briefly, then pins me again with those beautiful gray eyes.
Yes, I trust him.
“Don’t worry,” he whispers.  “I wasn’t kidding when I said you’re mine.  I will protect you with everything I have, baby.”
“Ditto,” I whisper and watch his eyes widen in surprise. He pulls me into him, wrapping his arms around me and pressing my head to his chest, and I feel so loved.  This is not sexual at all, I feel cherished.
Finally, I pull back and smile up at him, wanting to lighten the mood.  “I don’t want to burn the chicken.  We’ve wasted enough food this week.  You go work and I’ll finish up dinner.”
“Okay.”  He kisses my nose and ushers me out ahead of him.
***
“I won’t be in the office this week.”  Nate strides into the kitchen, his face taut with frustration.
“What’s up?” I ask and dish up our plates.
“I have to go to New York.  Parker thinks I need to present this deal in person.”  He joins me at the table and we dig in.
“He’s probably right,” I respond.  Parker is a partner in our New York branch, and knows his stuff.  The deal they’ve been working on for the past two weeks is a tricky one.