“I missed this,” I breathe. “Having you—here—with me.”
“I know. I missed it too,” he says, moving back to look into my eyes. “You can always come with me, you know? You don’t have to be alone.”
“I know, but Declan has already scheduled appointments out with vendors for the party. I’ll be busy for the next few weeks.”
“How did your visit with the florist go the other day?” he asks.
Running my hand along his silk tie, I tell him, “It went well. I think we got nearly everything picked out.”
“Good.”
He combs his fingers through my hair and leans in to kiss me. Slow and soft, taking his time. Bennett tends to be overly affectionate after he returns from a trip, and I never deny him, so I shift up to my knees and hold his face in my hands. When he grips my hips, clutching onto the satin of my slip gown, I take over his mouth, urging him on. He pulls me down atop his lap, and his growing c**k presses against me as I grind my hips into him.
“God, baby. I can’t get enough of you,” he mumbles against my neck, between his gentle kisses.
“You want me?”
“I always want you,” he tells me. “But you’re gonna make me late. I’ve got a meeting.”
Grinning at him, I say, “I’ll be fast,” before slipping off his lap and onto my knees on the floor beside the bed. Quickly working my hands, I undo his slacks and yank them down. And as he sits on the edge of the bed, I wrap my lips around his dick and suck him off while he moans my name.
Once fully satisfied, he kisses me deeply when I walk him to the door before he leaves.
“I hate that I have to leave when all I want is to make love to you all day.”
The ringing of my cell interrupts us, and he waits while I grab it off the kitchen counter and answer.
“Hello?”
“Nina, it’s Declan.”
“Hi.”
“I was wondering if you could stop by the hotel later today. Betty, from Marguerite Gardens, is having a few arrangements delivered for you to look at,” he says.
“Um . . . sure. That shouldn’t be a problem at all. What time would be good?”
“They should be delivered by noon.”
“Okay, I’ll swing by later then,” I tell him before we hang up.
“Who was that?” Bennett asks when I walk back over to him.
“Declan. The florist is sending over some sample arrangements for me to look at later today, so I’ll just take one of the cars to the hotel if Baldwin is going to be with you.”
“You sure?”
Lifting up on my toes, I give him a little kiss. “I’m sure.”
“I’ll call you when I leave the office. How about I take you out for a nice dinner at Everest tonight?”
“Sounds perfect,” I say with a smile.
He runs his thumb down my lips and then gives my chin a little pinch, saying, “Have a good day, okay?”
“You too.”
As soon as he leaves, I walk into the kitchen to put the kettle on the stove, and while I wait for it to boil, I look over to the dining room table. The extravagant vase of purple roses that Bennett gave me when he got home last night sits in the center of the table. The sight causes a physical reaction inside of me. A twisting in my gut as I grit my teeth. I hate purple. I told him it was my favorite though, so when he gives me flowers, his way of showering me with affection, it only reminds me of everything I hate. Purple walls flash in my mind, and it only reinforces my steel wall. Bennett is everything a husband should be, so it was essential that I create fissures within him. Purple flowers being one of them.
The squealing whistle of the kettle snaps me out of the purple and into the present. I fix my tea and make my way into the bedroom to get ready for the day. Knowing I’m going to be seeing Declan, I want to look nice, so I set my mug down on the center island in my closet and start sorting through my clothes. Selecting a simple black shift dress, I pair it with patent black heels and my white, wool, knee-length coat.
After a slow morning getting ready and taking a phone call from Jacqueline to schedule a lunch date with the girls, I grab my purse and head down to the parking garage. It takes a while to get to the hotel with the hectic lunch traffic in the loop, but when I arrive, the valet takes my car and I make my way back to Declan’s office.
When I approach his door, I can hear his voice on the other side. He sounds angry, barking orders with whoever he must be on the phone with because it’s only Declan’s voice I hear. I wait, and when I notice the conversation has ended, I give the door a couple light taps.
“Come in,” he calls.
Opening the door, his focus is on his laptop and nothing else as he’s clicking away at the keyboard.
“Bad time?” I question hesitantly, and when he hears my voice, he flicks his eyes my way and swivels his chair away from his computer to face me. “I can come back.”
“No,” he simply states as he stands up and walks towards me, taking me by the elbow and turning me to walk with him. “This way.”
His snippy attitude the other day at the florist was irritating, but for some reason, right now, it doesn’t have that effect on me, figuring that whoever he was just speaking to is the culprit of his mood, and not me. I follow him out of his office and down to an opulent private dining room that’s currently free of people. He opens the double-etched glass doors and leads me into the dark room, dimly lit by the sparse chandeliers. Towards the back of the dining space, there is a secluded table that’s covered in burnt orange and white flowers with dark, rich greenery. Some accented with spiral grapevines and others darkened with blackened moss.