The Rivals - Vi Keeland Page 0,79
working twelve hours a day as we loomed closer to the bid-submission deadline. Some nights I didn’t finish working until almost midnight. And even then, the light was still on in Weston’s office when I left. Though that didn’t stop him from making his way to my bed when he finally called it quits.
This morning it felt like we’d barely fallen asleep, and now we were up again. The first light of the day streaked in through a gap in the curtains and sliced a ray of sunshine across Weston’s face.
He petted my hair as I looked up at him, chin propped up on my fist. “There’s a room key on the desk over there.”
Weston’s hand froze. “You want me to have a key to your suite?”
“Well, last night you woke me up about ten minutes after I dozed off. So I thought maybe you could just let yourself in.”
He grinned. “I’m pretty sure you just invited me to slip my cock inside of you while you’re sleeping.”
I play-slapped his chest. “I meant let yourself in my room, not my body.”
Weston leaned his weight to one side and rolled us. I was quickly on my back with him hovering over me. He pushed the hair from my face. “I like my idea much better.”
I smiled. “I bet you do.” We were both still naked from last night, and I felt him hardening against my thigh. “My father is leaving on an afternoon flight, so I told him I’d meet him downstairs at seven. Unfortunately, I have to jump in the shower now.”
He leaned in and kissed my neck. “Is there anything I can do to convince you to be a few minutes late?”
I chuckled. “There’s no such thing as a few minutes with you.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
I shook my head. “It’s definitely not. But it’s also the reason I’m about to go into the bathroom and lock the door.”
Weston sulked. It was adorable. He rolled to his back and blew out a frustrated breath. “Fine. Go. But don’t blame me if there’s a wet spot on your side of the bed when you get out of the shower.”
I wrinkled my nose and stole the sheet from the bed as I stood. “My side? Why don’t you make that mess on your own side?”
He tugged at the sheet I tried to wrap around myself. “Because it’s your fault there will be any mess to begin with. If you’d just give me five minutes, I could make that mess where it belongs—inside you.”
God, I had it bad for this man. What he’d just said was crude, yet I felt that mushy feeling in my belly, just hearing him say his cum belonged inside me. Romantic, right? But it was what it was.
I leaned back down to the bed and kissed his lips. “My father should be gone by noon. How about you meet me back up here for lunch at one o’clock, and I’ll let you make that mess anywhere you want?”
Weston’s eyes darkened. “Anywhere I want?”
Oh boy. That was a dangerous statement. But what the hell? I smiled. “Anywhere. Good luck concentrating today while you debate exactly where that will be.”
***
“You and the Lockwood boy seem to have made friends,” my father said.
It was just the two of us left in the conference room now that he’d rudely told the legal and accounting team to make themselves scarce.
Where is this leading? Dad rarely made observational comments that didn’t have a purpose. He treated people as pawns in a chess game. I shuffled a pile of papers to a neat pile. “We’ve found common ground. It’s not like we have a choice when we’re running a hotel together.”
“He’s not focused on running a hotel with you, Sophia. His focus is on your ass. I’m not dumb. I see the way he looks at you when he thinks no one is paying attention.”
I froze. “How does he look at me?”
“Like he’s a pit bull that hasn’t eaten in weeks, and you’re a juicy steak.”
I cringed—not because it wasn’t quite possibly true, but because hearing my father say it was wrong. The word juicy in any way, shape, or form—when related to me—sounded icky coming out of his mouth. Knowing lies were usually apparent on my face, I avoided eye contact by walking around the room and collecting empty coffee cups and plates left by the team.
“I think you’re exaggerating,” I said. “But…so what if he does? Weston is a