The Price of Inertia (The Seven Sins #4) - Lily Zante Page 0,105

with me? I’ll pay you.”

“You already have a housekeeper.”

“I won’t pay you to be my housekeeper.”

“Then, what will you pay me for?”

I have to be careful with what I say. This setup is so precarious, I can’t not pay her, because I know she needs the money. I’d rather have her with me, than not. “I’ll pay you to be my personal assistant.”

She likes the sound of this because she squeals, though it could be because my fingers are rubbing against her folds. She presses against me, her breath hitching in her throat. “What does that entail?”

I thumb her clit, and it no longer seems to matter as she shudders to my touch.

Later, when the birds begin to sing, I curl up against her in bed, breathing in the scent of her hair. I haven’t lain with a woman like this in years. I haven’t let anyone come this close.

“Goodnight,” I whisper.

She’s quiet, and I’m not sure if she heard me. I kiss the top of her head. After a while, she asks, “Are you staying?” in a groggy voice, on the edge of sleep.

“Yes.”

She huddles closer to me, then flings one of her legs in between mine until we’re a tangle of warm bodies.

“Ward!” Mari hollers directly in my ear. I am so bone-weary, I can’t even open my eyes. “Ward!” She shakes me roughly. “Get up!” She sounds hysterical. My eyes fly wide open. I reach for my bedside table, trying to find my watch, and failing.

“Get up!” Mari cries rushing around the room in a frenzy. My attention immediately fixates on her. I sit up, so caught up in her nakedness that it takes a moment or two for me to realize I’m in her bed, in her room. I blink a few times, then look up at the ceiling, look at the room. Memories of last night flood back.

“Get up,” she cries, swiping my robe from the floor and throwing it on. She flies towards the door.

“Where are you going?”

“Jamie’s here. We overslept!”

She disappears just as I’m about to tell her to ignore Jamie. I have a workout in mind, but it’s not with Jamie. “Mari!” I yell after her, not understanding why she’s rushing to answer the door. We could pretend we went out.

But of course, that wouldn’t be so plausible in the light of day. I’m still groggy with post sex haze. I have a growing boner, and Mari isn’t here.

Swearing under my breath, because we could have been doing something better than a goddamn workout right now, I make myself get out of bed.

There’s nothing worse than getting ready for a workout I don’t want.

MARI

Jamie’s here and he won’t stop ringing the doorbell.

I didn’t want to get out of bed. I could have lain in Ward’s arms all morning. I could have had more of what we had last night. I rush downstairs as the doorbell rings again.

I open the door and Jamie stares at me in shock, his gaze going from my face and trailing down the length of my body.

“What are you wearing?” he asks. His voice is harsh, severing the bubble of last night’s memories I had been floating in.

Oh, god.

I forgot. I put my hand to the robe, securing the edges so that it doesn’t gape open. Somehow, I manage to tighten the sash that’s holding the outfit together. I wish I’d stopped to think before I raced downstairs.

He looks at me, suspicion black like poison in his eyes.

“I washed it, and I ... it ended up in my pile of clothes,” I stammer, knowing that he isn’t buying any of this.

“You’ve overslept,” he says, making it sound like an accusation instead of a statement.

“Good morning!” Ward’s voice behind me is good humored and bright. I’m shocked by the speed with which he got ready and came down. I daren’t turn around even though I’m curious to know how he looks, and whether Jamie will put two and two together.

“I’m heading straight to the gym,” Ward says, “You two catch up.” He diappears, leaving me with a grouchy looking Jamie.

“What’s going on?” Jamie asks, his gaze slipping to my neck. I pray that Ward didn’t leave any tell-tale kisses there; that Jamie can’t read the guilty look I’m trying so hard to hide. I’m useless hiding things.

“Nothing is going on,” I cry, trying to sound exasperated that he would ask me such a thing. I’m failing miserably. I walk into the kitchen, knowing that there is nothing casual, or