Nate caught the toast as it popped out of Saskia’s ancient second-hand toaster. He knew what to give her for Christmas. Or maybe he’d just bring his own top-of-the-range one over. He spent most nights at hers, after all. Her espresso machine was a thing of the gods.
But it was more than that. Something about the hot little fireplace and the riot of colour, and the over-soft bed it was simply too difficult to get out of in the morning—especially when it was filled with warm, sleepy Saskia. It was a combination far more him than a fake rhino head on the bathroom wall and stuffy leather.
He lathered the hot bread in chocolate spread, popped a corner and threw it over his shoulder, unsurprised when it didn’t hit the floor. The thump of Ernest’s tail was as good as asking for more.
“Enough,” he said, attempting Saskia’s stern but loving tone. Ernest just looked at him as if he was kidding. He threw the dog another corner and took off before the canine had the chance to point those big glistening eyes his way.
Saskia looked up from her computer and smiled. Nate’s heart squeezed in his chest. It happened every time he laid eyes on her, and yet he found he couldn’t get used to it. Hoped he never would.
He pressed a kiss to her waiting mouth. Her willing heat was no surprise. “I’m off.”
“Gabe and Paige are coming for dinner.”
“Am I invited?”
She rolled her eyes. “You kidding? You practically live here. I should start charging rent. Or maybe you can just bring your toaster over as a down payment. Mine’s on its last legs.”
It was a done deal. He perched on the edge of her desk. “Should I consider this the start of negotiations?”
“Sure,” she said, her mouth kicking up at one corner. “If that floats your boat.”
He pulled her out of her chair and into his arms. “You float my boat, Saskia Bloom.”
When she’d caught her breath, she said, “Lucky, because you float mine.” Her sultry eyes darkened as she leant in for another kiss. Soft, sweet, and soon rocketing into something scorching.
Nate pulled away with a groan. “I have to go. Promised Gabe I’d tag-team. New investment prospect has him in a lather.”
Not trusting himself, or her, he pressed her back into her chair. Her feet were tucked instantly up under her, and she snuck a pencil between her teeth. So damn cute, he thought. And sexy and smart and sweet and stubborn. All must-have traits on his new list for the woman in his life.
She grinned around the pencil and began to swivel her chair back and forth, her knees rubbing against his. Lucky he had a car coming for him in five minutes. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to drive in his current state.
As he turned to leave she grabbed him by the sleeve of his shirt, her hand curling around his wrist, sending shards of heat up his arm. To think this hot little gamine creature was his. All his.
He already knew he was never letting her go again.
He’d tell her so later, when she was naked in his arms. Trapped. She tended to be more amenable, less stubborn, after he’d loved her into a pile of molten limbs.
“New gig’s just come in,” she said, pointing the pencil at her flash new computer monitor.
Completely unable to help himself, he leaned over her, sucking in lungs full of her soft morning scent as he looked at the screen. “What am I looking at?”
“Pegasus Motors have taken us on to do a series of infographics. For starters it seems I’m going to have to test-drive their entire range of sports models. You can come along if you like.”
“I knew there was a reason I loved you.”
“Just one.”
“Okay, two. Maybe three.”
One last kiss, he told himself as her hand snuck around his neck and pulled his mouth to hers.
Three quarters of an hour later he zipped his pants and made a run for the door, cold toast between his teeth, Saskia’s old copy of Catch-22 under his arm for the car ride, and ignoring the constant buzzing of his phone.
He told himself Gabe would have to wait.
Hell, the whole world could wait for all he cared.
A man had to have his priorities straight, after all.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from All Bets Are On by Charlotte Phillips.