“That’s a room we haven’t made love in already,” I say out loud. What I don’t say is that I want to feel his presence everywhere long after he’s gone. Also, I have some cream in the fridge, and I thought of a brilliant use for it.
I shimmy to the kitchen with Eric on my heels. Once inside, I take out the can of whipped cream, presenting it to him as if it’s a prized possession.
“You woke up naughty today.”
Licking my lips, I nod. “Blame it on the cookies. They had extra chocolate.”
Hooking an arm around my waist, he pulls me close to him. “How about attributing it to my charms?”
“You’re so full of yourself,” I tease.
“And you can’t wait to be full of me,” he whispers in my ear. I blush violently at his wicked words, which is exactly what he intended, of course. Eric hoists me up on the table in the center of the kitchen, taking off my nightie and pushing me on my back. Need surges through me as he puts whipped cream in one thin line from my navel up to my chest. Then he smears it with his finger in circles around one nipple. He does so with an exquisite slowness that drives me crazy. Watching it unravel before my eyes turns me on to no end. By the time he proceeds to the other nipple, I’m so turned on I feel I’ll break out of my skin. I need him now, but I know he’s not done teasing me. I should have known this would come back to bite me in the ass. Pulling back a notch, Eric smiles at me, giving my clit a gentle smack. I shudder, gasping. Then he places his mouth on the same place and nips at my tender spot.
“No more whipped cream?” I ask.
“Not here. I want to taste you.”
He slides his tongue inside me, mimicking the act of making love, and I nearly come undone. Suddenly, I become desperate for skin-on-skin contact. I pull myself back, pleased when Eric takes my cue, straightening up and unbuttoning his shirt. I unzip his jeans and pull them down together with his boxers. He cups my ass in his hands, pulling me close to him while I lean back, propping myself o
n my elbows. My breath catches when he enters me, slow and deep.
“You’re a wonderful woman, Pippa Bennett,” he says, right before making passionate love to me.
Chapter Twenty-One
Pippa
I’m the first to arrive in my office. Despite Eric’s lovemaking and the coffee he brought me, I’m bone tired. Waking up before 8 a.m. tends to do that to me. Opening my computer, I intend to dive in working through my e-mails, but end up researching Boston.
Eric’s question plays in my mind repeatedly. Could I give this a shot? Boston is beautiful, of course. The truth is, even if the city were hideous, it wouldn’t matter; I’d love it simply because Eric and Julie would be there. The problem is that it’s a six-hour flight away from my family. I love being able to talk to my brothers at any time of the day, or drop in on one of my sisters whenever they need me. I can’t lose that. The one time I lived a few hours away from my family was during college, and I was miserable. I can’t do it again. With a heavy heart, I close all websites I had open about Boston. I have my answer, it seems. I can’t even consider moving away without almost having a panic attack.
On the strength of that decision, I send another e-mail—this time to my lawyer, explaining to him what our next steps should be. It’s high time I took Eric’s advice. Terence won’t know what hit him.
As I lean back in my chair, feeling proud of myself, my phone beeps with an incoming message from Blake.
Blake: Did you have breakfast?
Pippa: Yes, but I won’t say no to some goodies. I’m in my office. You want to stop by?
Blake: Sure. I’ll buy breakfast for me. Two muffins for you?
I smile as I type back.
Pippa: You know me well, brother.
Blake arrives twenty minutes later, looking as if he hasn’t slept all night.
“Have you been partying all weekend?” I inquire as he places the muffins in front of me and drops in the chair on the other side of my desk. “You look dreadful.”
“Good morning to you too, sister,” he answers. “If you keep throwing around insults, I’ll keep your muffins for myself.”
I shrug, but immediately pull the muffins closer to me and out of his reach. “I’m just saying. The post-party look isn’t the best office look to build credibility.”
“Who says I was partying?” Blake shakes his head and then takes a bite from the sandwich he brought for himself. “How come when Logan rides my ass, I want to punch him, yet when you do it, I think you’re adorable?”
I smile coyly. “Because I’m all-around adorable.”
He sighs. “I have no balls whatsoever when I’m around my sisters.”