Page 122 of Trip Me Up

Reluctantly, I released him. Social niceties sucked. “Niall, this is my friend, Marlee. You guys met on a video call while we were on—while we were traveling.” I didn’t love remembering all the lies I’d told while we were on tour together. “And her fiancé, Tyler, who’s also my friend.”

Niall shook hands with them both. “I’ve heard a lot about you two.”

“He wants to know about my life and stuff.” I wrinkled my nose. On our nightly phone calls, I just wanted to get to the phone sex, but Niall actually wanted to talk. Which was fair, I guessed, since I hadn’t told him much about my life while we’d been together on tour.

“That’s so sweet!” Marlee’s voice went into that high register it did when she talked about romance.

I rolled my eyes. “There’s nothing sweet about what I want to do to my boyfriend after two weeks apart.” I let my hand trail from his back down to the taut curve of his ass, and I squeezed it like a ripe orange. He shifted me in front of him, and the ridge of his erection poked my hip. My brain fuzzed. I needed to get my hands on him. Pronto.

“Is there, like, an empty conference room or supply closet around here?” I pressed back against him.

Marlee flashed me an obnoxious grin. “Jackson’s in Cooper’s office, so you can go in there.” She pointed at Jackson’s office.

“See you later, Sam.” Tyler’s voice floated in just before my brother’s office door slammed behind us.

Jackson’s desk was in its usual disastrous state, strewn with hardware and papers. I tugged Niall toward the seating area. The sofa was small, but it would serve my purpose. Namely, my getting-into-Niall’s-pants purpose.

“Wait.” Our joined hands yanked me to a stop. Niall’s mass meant he had a lot of inertia when he wanted it.

“Wait? Why?” There was a desperate ring to my tone, but I didn’t care. “It’s beentwo weeks.”

“I know, sweetheart. I was so desperate to get my hands on you that I flew here from Omaha for a night.”

Omaha, right. “How was the book talk? Did anyone slip you her number?”

The color at the tops of his cheeks told me someone had. But it didn’t matter. Niall Flynn was all mine, regardless of how many miles separated us. I didn’t have to be jealous ever again.

“I’ve got to be in Denver tomorrow morning. But I wanted to spend tonight with you.”

My chest warmed. “I like the sound of that. And we’re still meeting at the farm in two weeks?”

He wrapped his arms around me. “Of course. The wifi’s good, according to Grandpa. You’ll be able to work as much as you need to.”

“And you’ll be writing. You’ll read the new words to me at night?”

“Among other things.” He nuzzled my neck, and need pooled in my core.

I tugged at the top button of his flannel shirt. “Show me these other things.”

He stilled my hands. “Isn’t there somewhere with a little more privacy? I, ah, feel like we have an audience.” He nodded toward the glass wall. Marlee’s and Tyler’s shadows darkened the closed blinds.

“Jackson’s place is too far. Besides, Alicia works there during the day. But”—the brain flash hit me like a sledgehammer—“my brother has the most amazing executive washroom.”

I led him to it and opened the door with a flourish.

Niall squinted at it, hesitating at the doorway. “Amazing? This isn’t any bigger than my closet at home. And the farmhouse’s closets were built back when people had two, maybe three changes of clothes.”

I peered into the four-by-six space. “What’s amazing about it is that it has a flat surface. And a door. Now get inside so I can fuck you.”

“Such a poet.” He chuckled. But he backed in, tucked me into his chest, and toed the door closed.

“I’m the programmer, remember? You’re the poet. Ravish me with some words.”

And you bet your ass, he did. And the best part? Words were only the second-best thing that tongue of his was good for.

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