Catch - Deborah Bladon Page 0,59
let his past go, but our heartbreaks don’t measure equal.
He lost a woman he loved since they were kids.
I lost a woman I thought I loved for a couple of months.
Berk’s wife died.
My ex-fiancée cheated on me.
You can’t compare devastation to a distraction.
I got over Amber within a few months. My brother is still nursing a pain that I can’t fathom.
“Maren is nothing like Amber,” I say the words aloud that I’ve been carrying inside since I met the woman I spent last night with. “We’re talking apples and oranges here.”
“I know.”
“You know? How?”
It’s a rhetorical question, but in true Berk Morgan fashion, he answers it. “I’ve never seen you smile this much, Keats. She lights up your world.”
I can’t argue with any of that, so I don’t.
I skip the coffee and instead go to my brother for a hug.
He stands and wraps his arms around me. “I’m happy for you, Keats.”
I hope to hell one day in the future I can say the same to him.
Chapter 46
Maren
Keats Morgan is a devil in a three-piece suit with a mouth made for sin.
I stare at him as he exits the elevator.
It’s been over an hour since I left his townhouse. I didn’t make it more than twenty feet down the sidewalk before I ran into his brother and niece.
My dress was the dead giveaway that I had spent the night with Keats. Stevie commented that she’d wear a dress like mine all the time if she had one, so I’m determined to find something similar to gift her with.
Maybe that’s crossing a line, but it feels right.
Spending the night with Keats felt right too.
“You’re smiling this morning, Miss Weber,” Keats says as he approaches my desk. “A word in my office, please.”
I nod as I feel the eyes of my co-workers on me.
I stand up. Smoothing my hand over the skirt of the navy blue shift dress I changed into, I walk into my boss’s office.
“Shut the door,” he says without turning to face me.
I click it closed quietly, taking an extra second to turn the lock.
“I left before you woke up,” I point out the obvious. “I needed to get home to change before work.”
He pivots to face me. His gaze travels over my body. “I want to strip you bare, Maren. I need to fuck you again.”
My core aches with need. “Tonight.”
“Tonight?” He edges a brow up. “That’s a long time from now.”
I take a measured step closer to him, fully aware that my nipples have furled into tight points. “You’ll manage.”
“Will I?” He drops his hand to the front of his navy blue pants. Cupping his erection through the fabric, he lowers his voice. “I’m as hard as nails.”
“We’re at work, Keats.”
He stares into my eyes. “I won’t touch you here, but as soon as the day is over, I want you on your knees in my bedroom.”
The promise of that draws my tongue over my bottom lip. “Maybe I won’t make it until the end of the day.”
He steps closer until we’re almost touching. “Don’t lay a finger on that pussy before tonight. No pleasure without me, Maren.”
I nod, hopelessly in lust with this man. “I won’t.”
His gaze trails over my body. “This conversation is going to kill me.”
Huffing out a laugh, I lock eyes with him. “You’ll live, Keats. I promise that the wait will be worth it.”
***
Three hours later, I’m still catching my breath from the conversation I had with Keats in his office.
I’ve spent the morning reaching out to several of Keats’s New York based clients to set up dinner meetings with them.
My boss likes to keep the lines of communication open with his clients, and for him, that means face-to-face interactions.
I scheduled two lunches for next week and dinner with a client who asked me to thank Keats for the dollhouse he sent to his daughter for her birthday.
I’m responsible for that.
I saw the note in Keats’s online calendar that he wanted to send a dollhouse to the girl, so I made the call myself to place the order so it would arrive in plenty of time for her sixth birthday party.
Glancing up when the elevator dings its arrival on our floor, I smile when I see Fletcher Newman exit.
He holds up a hand in greeting to me.
I glance at Keats’s office and notice him on a call. His brow is furrowed, and his voice lowered as he speaks to a scout based in California.
I slide to my feet to intercept Fletcher.
“Hey, Fletcher.”