Wyatt was startingto think that Mia really was a witch. Something about the fragrance of her body lotion was addictive, the way it gave out a gentle cloud of sweet pear aroma that penetrated even the heavy scent of sex in the air.
He pressed his nose into the soft skin of her back, inhaling before planting a kiss there, then another one a little higher, and another even higher, his lips marking a trail to her neck.
“That was good,” he said, still sprinkling tender kisses over her shoulder, hugging her from behind.
“Too good.” Her hand stretched back to tangle in his hair, bringing his exploring lips to hers. The honey and heather flavor was long gone, but Wyatt could swear he still tasted it. “No one should be that talented at fucking.”
Wyatt couldn’t stop a burst of laughter, leaning over Mia and meeting her indigo gaze.
“I told you, Prickly Pear, hate is a strong fuel.”
“So, you’re saying it’s chemistry, not you?” She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “How unexpectedly modest.”
“You have me all wrong you know.”
“I have you right where I want you, Doctor Jenkins.” She turned away from him and snuggled deeper into his chest.
Wyatt tried to shake off disappointment at Mia’s easy disregard of his statement. She probably thought he was joking, but the truth was he hated how little Mia thought of him. Probably because, on a professional level, he had her on a high pedestal.
Mia was focused, driven, and innovative. Every moment he spent with her, his opinion of her rose. She intrigued him on so many levels, even the parts of her that spit fire and venom at him.
Wyatt liked that his family name didn’t impress her, but he wished she regarded him as an equal rather than a nuisance. Still, he was glad she’d willingly accepted his offer and that he had Mia all to himself for the time being.
Mia sighed in content when Wyatt tightened his hold, wiggling a foot between his ankles to tangle their legs and looking at him with wicked amusement. “For the record, I won this round.”
“I told you, the beauty of this arrangement is that, even when one of us wins a battle, we both win the war.” He nuzzled her neck, breathing her in. “The collateral damage of our combat but a small death.”
Mia laughed softly at his reference to the French metaphor for an orgasm. “I dare say more than one.”
“I like fucking at your house, better than at mine.” He liked being surrounded by things that were so distinctively her.
“Your bed is bigger.” She wasn’t wrong about Wyatt’s king size bed being larger than her queen, but the way Mia snuggled in close, Wyatt failed to see how that was going to be an issue.
“We need to make a few rules,” Wyatt said, thinking of how to approach the delicate subject of exactly what he wanted to do to her under their arrangement. “Maybe a safe word.”
Mia wiggled out of his hold and turned to face him with a curious gaze. “What for? If I tell you to stop, won’t you?”
“Of course, but these games, they can get out of hand, cross a line, get too much. Or maybe one of us meets someone and wants to stop or gets bored.” With every word he felt growing dread at any of those scenarios coming true. “We need something to signal it’s more than a momentary pause, that it’s over for good.”
“Agastopia,” Mia said after a moment. “It means admiration of a particular part of someone’s body.”
“I know what it means.” Wyatt chuckled at how appropriate her choice was. “That’s a good word.”
“Thank you.” Mia flashed him a sassy smile. “Now that we have a safe word, mind telling me the real reason why I need it?”
“What would be the fun in that?” Mia rolled her eyes and threw herself back in the pillows.
“No gags or blindfolds.”
“Obviously.” Wyatt traced her collarbone with a light touch. “I want to see in your eyes the moment you cave under the pleasure, hear when you finally give in and beg.”
“I don’t like being tied down, either.” She paused, probably waiting for Wyatt’s response, but he just nodded. He was mildly disappointed, but it wasn’t a deal breaker. Restraints were fun, but they weren’t what he had in mind when he asked Mia for a safe word. “I don’t mind if you restrain me with your hands, but no accessories.”
“Okay,” Wyatt answered, smiling at her reassuringly. “Anything else?”
“The rules,” she reminded him. “What about those?”
“Total separation between work and our private lives, the hub stays professional.”