Imagine With Me (With Me in Seattle #15) - Kristen Proby Page 0,40
shit, that’s for sure. Keep doing that, by the way.”
“Oh, I plan to. I’ve been working on this screenplay with Shawn, but I already have a whole new twisted story circling in my head.”
Shawn watches me closely and looks like he wants to ask me questions, but he just shoves his hands into his pockets and listens to my conversation with Steve.
“When does the next book come out?” Steve asks.
“Next month,” I say. “Not long to wait now.”
“Well, I’ll be sure to pick it up when it’s available.”
“Actually, I’ll have Shawn give me your address, and I’ll send you a signed copy when I get back home. I have a whole box waiting for me there.”
“That’s very kind of you,” he says, smiling shyly. “Thank you.”
“You bet. I’ll go back to the house and let you two finish up here. I just thought I’d walk down and say hello.”
“We’re done,” Shawn says. “I’ll walk back with you. I’ll be back next week to help more, Steve.”
“Whenever you have time is great with me,” Steve says. “Have a safe trip home, Lexi.”
I wave, and Shawn joins me as we walk back to his house.
“What a nice man.”
Shawn nods. “He’s become a good friend. Almost like a father figure sometimes.” He takes my hand and links our fingers. “How was your run?”
“Great. I’m stiff and still trying to find my pacing again, but it feels good.”
“I’m glad.”
“I guess we should get to work, huh?”
“Probably. But we’re nearing the home stretch.”
I’m acutely aware of the sexy man sitting next to me. When we arrived back at the house, I took a quick shower while Shawn put together a late breakfast, and then we met up in the office. The bagels and fruit were quickly decimated. Now, we’re sitting side by side, staring at our laptops as we read the previous scene.
Suddenly, Shawn grabs my chair and rolls me closer to him.
I glance over. “Um, hi.”
“You know what,” he says after a moment, “that’s not close enough.”
He tugs me out of the chair altogether and into his lap, cradling me as he continues scrolling through the document, reading silently.
“Uh, Shawn?”
“Hmm?”
“How am I supposed to work like this?”
His lips twitch into a half-smile.
“Not my problem.”
I can’t help but kiss his cheek since it’s so close to my lips.
“We’re supposed to be working, remember?”
“I only have you here for a few more days, so you’re going to be working from my lap. You’ll have to learn to adapt and overcome, I’m afraid.”
I laugh and squirm, feeling his cock come to life against my hip.
“Well, I guess I can try.” I let out a deep sigh and lean against his shoulder, burying my nose in his neck as I let my hand drift down his chest. I drag my tongue up to his ear and tickle his earlobe with my nose.
“What are you doing?”
“Adapting.”
I wiggle back so I have access to the fastening on his jeans, and once I’ve worked him free, I roll his chair back from the desk, lower myself to my knees in front of him, and enjoy him. His cock is heavy as I lick and suck it, working it over with my hands.
“Christ Jesus,” Shawn groans as he grips my hair, fisting it tightly. He doesn’t guide me, which is good because this is one thing that Shawn doesn’t get to control.
My movements are confident. I love the taste of him, the feel of his smooth skin against my lips.
“Fucking hell, I’m going to come.”
“Hmm,” I hum against him. I know he’s warning me in case I want to move back.
I don’t.
I lick my lips and grin as I come up off the floor, then take my place on his lap once more.
“I’m excellent at adapting.”
He laughs and hugs me close. “You might be the best at it in the entire universe, angel.”
“Hey, Mom,” I say into the phone, surprised that she actually called me first this time. Maybe she took our last conversation to heart and plans to call me more, rather than guilt-tripping me into calling her first.
“Hello, honey. I’m afraid I have bad news.”
I clutch the phone and frown as I stare out the window at the ocean.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you in the hospital?”
“No, no, nothing like that. I’m perfectly fine.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. Since I got the horrible call informing me that my father was taken to the hospital, where he was pronounced dead on arrival, I’m always worried that I’ll get the