With Me In Seattle: Fight With Me Part 16

"Jesus, Julianne, give a man a chance to recover."

"Don't be a p.u.s.s.y." I laugh as he bites my belly and climbs up my body, resting on his elbow to my right side. He brushes the hair that came out of my bun off my face and kisses me sweetly, then bites my lip.

"Ow!"

"You have such a dirty mouth."

"I just call aem like I see aem." He bites my lip again, more gently this time, and I sigh against his mouth.

"And you see me as a p.u.s.s.y?" he asks, deceptively softly.

"Hmm... maybe not."

He leans back and raises an eyebrow. "Maybe?"

"Probably not."

"I'll show you how much of a p.u.s.s.y I am, baby."

He's suddenly inside me again, and I'm tucked beneath him, and ... holy s.h.i.+t.

Chapter Fourteen.

Cooking with Nate this past week has been a lot of fun. We get side-tracked a lot, and burned the h.e.l.l out of a perfectly innocent pork tenderloin when we lost track of time in the shower one evening, but it's exciting to be creative with him in the kitchen. Up until tonight we've either eaten out or cooked together, and I want to cook for him.

So I am.

It's Sunday evening and we're back at Nate's place for the night. Alecia's cleaning crew did a great job at the house, but we decided to come back to Nate's condo so he can get some work done in his office.

Because I prefer to cook to music, I plug my iPod into his sound system and crank it up. Yes, my cooking music tastes are a bit... juvenile. I prefer pop music to dance around the kitchen to. Britney Spears. Lady GaGa. Maybe a little Carly Rae and her Call Me Maybe. In fact, that works. Carly starts to sing through the speakers hidden throughout the room and I start to shake my a.s.s while compiling what I need for dinner.

Hmm... I wonder what Nate would look like in ripped jeans? Good call, Carly Rae.

I pour myself a gla.s.s of fruity white wine, take a sip and pull my hair up into a messy twist at the crown of my head. I'm still wearing gray yoga pants and a black tank top from our trip to the gym today. G.o.d, I love watching Nate work out. At thirty, his body is incredible. h.e.l.l, his body is incredible for a twenty year old.

I still didn't win in the ring today, but I knocked him on his a.s.s twice, and that's a victory in my book.

I smile smugly and quarter baby red potatoes for roasting, plopping them in cold water until I'm ready for them. The chicken I'm roasting with lemon and basil goes in the oven when the bell rings, telling me it's warm enough. I'll round out the meal with roasted asparagus with garlic.

I have time for a shower, so I set the kitchen timer for one hour, grab my wine, and walk down the hallway to the master bedroom, pa.s.sing Nate's office. His door is open, and he's at the desk with the phone cradled between his ear and shoulder, and he's typing furiously on his keyboard.

"No, f.u.c.k that, they'll never accept that offer," he snaps, but his eyes soften when he sees me in the doorway.

"Dinner's still a couple hours away. I'm hitting the shower," I whisper.

"Hold on, Parker." He pushes the receiver against his shoulder so Parker can't hear him. "Okay, baby. What is that noise coming out of my speakers out there?"

"Cooking music." I shrug innocently, blow him a kiss and saunter into the bathroom, stripping as I adjust the water temperature in his amazing shower. This bathroom is beautiful, and the shower is big enough to host a small orgy with a large rain shower-head in the ceiling. It feels incredible.

Thankfully, Nate's sound system is wired throughout the whole condo, except his office, so I'm s.h.i.+mmying my hips and singing along to Pocket Full Of Suns.h.i.+ne as I lather up my hair. I lean my head back and let the hot water flow over me, rinsing my hair. The soapy lather falling down my back and over my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, bottom and legs feels so good on my skin, still sensitive from today's workout, and my hands glide over my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, the nipples puckering on contact.

Mmm... pitty Nate has so much work tonight. I could use some company. He's very inventive in the shower.

John Mayer starts to sing through the speakers about my body being a wonderland, and my hands start to slide all over my torso, one wandering closer to the homeland.

I perch one foot on a bench built into the tile and slide my hand between my legs, pus.h.i.+ng my fingers between my folds, and imagine that it's Nate's fingers making me crazy. My other hand plucks at a nipple and suddenly Nate is behind me, his body pressed to mine, his arms wrapped around me and I jump, startled. I was so wrapped up in my little fantasy I didn't hear him join me.

"Don't stop," he whispers in my ear. "Keep touching yourself."

I shake my head and lean back against his chest, suddenly shy. He nibbles my neck and grabs my hand in his, guiding it back down between my legs.

"Want me to help?"

"Yes," I sigh and arch my back as he pushes my fingers through my folds again, rubbing back and forth and up over my c.l.i.t, then back down to my l.a.b.i.a.

"Oh, G.o.d," I moan. It feels so good, and just a little naughty. I try to pull my hand away to let him continue on his own, but he grabs it again in a firm hold.

"You don't know what it does to me to see you pleasure yourself, Julianne." His words are soft, hypnotizing and so s.e.xy, and I can feel his hard-on against my a.s.s. Our hands continue their a.s.sault, and he presses my palm against my c.l.i.t and bites that spot on my neck, just behind my ear, and I feel my body start to shudder. I come against our hands, rocking and pus.h.i.+ng against them, crying out his name.

Nate spins me around and pins me against the cold tile wall, leaning his torso against me, his c.o.c.k pressed to my belly, and his lips are on mine, kissing me voraciously. I run my hands over his sides to his back and down to cup his very fine, very firm a.s.s in my hands and squeeze.

"I need to be inside you," he growls and cups my a.s.s to lift me. "Wrap your legs around me, baby." I do and he eases himself inside me, slowly, his forehead leaning against mine, gray eyes burning with l.u.s.t and need. I tangle his wet hair in my fingers and hold on as he begins to ease himself in and out of me, faster and faster, our breathing ragged and harsh. His eyes never leave mine as he pushes and pulls harder, faster, and I feel my legs clench tighter around him, another o.r.g.a.s.m moving though me.

"Come on, baby, give it to me," he whispers against my lips, and his words are my undoing.

"Oh, G.o.d, Nate!" I pulsate around him, milking his c.o.c.k and those amazing silver b.a.l.l.s with my p.u.s.s.y and he bites his lower lip, then clenches his teeth as I feel him fall over the edge, his hips grinding into mine, hands gripping my a.s.s so tightly it must be bruising me, as he comes inside me.

He holds me there, against the wall, for a long minute, both of us gasping for air, gazing at each other. I rhythmically run my fingers through his hair and he places his lips gently on mine, brus.h.i.+ng back and forth, kissing me sweetly.

"You are so sweet," he murmurs. "You're mine, do you understand? No matter what happens. You. Are. Mine." His eyes and voice are raw with emotion, and I feel tears p.r.i.c.k the sides of my eyes.

"Yes," I whisper. "I'm yours, Nate." Where is this coming from?

He shudders one more time and slips out of me, gently lowering me back to my feet. He cups my face in his hands and runs his nose down along mine before kissing me chastely and pulling away, shutting off the water, and leading me out of the cavernous shower to dry off.

"What in G.o.d's name is this music?" he asks with a scowl. Fergie is singing Glamorous.

"Hey, I love this song." I smack his a.s.s as I walk past him to his bedroom to root through my suitcase for clothes.

"Your taste in music sucks, baby." He pulls a black t-s.h.i.+rt over his head, and then steps into a pair of old worn blue jeans. No underwear.

"I like listening to happy music while I cook," I explain calmly.

"Rock is happy." He plants his hands on his hips and watches me pull on my jeans and a blue tunic top.

"So is this." I shrug and walk past him into the bathroom to blow my hair dry and secure it back in a ponytail.

"Why are you watching me?" I ask.

"I like watching you." He responds, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Are you done working?" I ask.

"No, I have a few more calls to make."

"Do you need any help?" I feel guilty. I'm sure there's something I can do to help. He's my boss, for Pete's sake.

"No, I've got it. I'll have some things for you at the office in the morning."

"Okay." Happy with my hair, I turn and lean my bottom against the vanity and gaze at him. "Is this getting weird for you?"

He frowns, perplexed. "Is what getting weird?"

"Us, working together, practically living together." f.u.c.k. Now he's going to think I want to live with him. "I mean, we don't really live together, but we're together all the time."

"Work isn't weird for me. We only see each other a few times throughout the day." He pushes away from the door and walks to me, leaning his hands on the vanity at my hips, bringing his eyes level with mine. "I want to be with you as much as possible outside of work. This is when we're us, with no pretenses. Is it weird for you?"

"I don't know," I shrug and lower my gaze to his chest, but he captures my chin in his fingers and makes me meet his stare.

"Look at me, and be honest. I don't want you to be uncomfortable, Julianne. Not about us."

"I'm not uncomfortable. I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be. There are moments at work that are weird. I won't deny that." I run my hands up his strong arms and over his shoulders to rest them on his muscular chest. "You're my boss. If you decide to end this, you could also end my career. It's a sticky place to be for me."

He frowns again, his eyes so serious. "I know you have to trust me, Julianne. I have to trust you too. It works both ways, you know."

That hadn't occurred to me. If I chose to end this, or if I was a bitter, scorned woman, I could ruin his career in a heartbeat. Not that I would ever do that. It's not my style.

The trust is on both sides, equally.

I stroke his cheek with my fingertips and he closes his eyes briefly, then pins me again with those beautiful gray eyes.

Yes, I trust him.

"Don't worry," he whispers. "I wasn't kidding when I said you're mine. I will protect you with everything I have, baby."

"Ditto," I whisper and watch his eyes widen in surprise. He pulls me into him, wrapping his arms around me and pressing my head to his chest, and I feel so loved. This is not s.e.xual at all, I feel cherished.

Finally, I pull back and smile up at him, wanting to lighten the mood. "I don't want to burn the chicken. We've wasted enough food this week. You go work and I'll finish up dinner."

"Okay." He kisses my nose and ushers me out ahead of him.

"I won't be in the office this week." Nate strides into the kitchen, his face taut with frustration.

"What's up?" I ask and dish up our plates.

"I have to go to New York. Parker thinks I need to present this deal in person." He joins me at the table and we dig in.

"He's probably right," I respond. Parker is a partner in our New York branch, and knows his stuff. The deal they've been working on for the past two weeks is a tricky one.

"Business trips don't hold the same allure as they used to." I look up at him and he's frowning down at his plate.

"Hey," I take his hand and squeeze his fingers. "This is part of the job. You couldn't have a more understanding girlfriend in this area, Nate. I know this is part of who you are."

"I can't take you with me. I don't need your help for the work, and it would raise eyebrows."

"I know." I shrug and keep eating, proud of myself for maintaining a calm expression on my face. "When will you be back?"

"By Thursday. I'm leaving tomorrow morning."

"Okay. Need a lift to the airport?"

"Thank you." G.o.d, he's so serious today.

"Don't worry," I kick him playfully under the table. "I'll be here when you get home."

Chapter Fifteen.

I've discovered that work is easier with Nate gone. I'm only half way through the work day, and I'm already more at ease. I don't have to worry about anyone noticing anything different between us; a look or coy smile. I pray to G.o.d no one can read my mind because I'd be escorted to the sidewalk with all of my belongings in a box in the blink of an eye if they could.

Nate emailed me a list of things to do for him from this end to send back to him via email and fax for his presentation in New York tomorrow. He'll be in the New York office preparing all day today.

He was really very cute this morning when I dropped him off at the airport. It makes me a little giddy that he didn't want to leave me and will miss me.

I'm going to miss him too.

Sleeping alone for the next few nights doesn't appeal to me in the slightest. I got lucky with Nate; he doesn't snore or hog the bed, and he's a really good cuddler.

Who would have thought?

But in the office, I feel more relaxed with him gone.

I finish typing a very dry, professional email to my handsome man with the completed requests he sent me this morning, expecting to receive an email back with more revisions and requests.

Meanwhile, I pick up my iPhone and send him a s.e.xy, non-professional text.