Page 60 of Total Abandon

Chase:Wait, what? Where were you?

Mia:Fundraiser for the yellow crested ibis.

Chase:Where was my invite? I like fucking in bathrooms.

Mia:I invited you. You ignored my text.

Chase:More importantly, why are you asking Zeke for comment?

Logan:If you two want a private chat, can you do it elsewhere?

Mia:Because he and Chloe disappeared not too long before…

Chase:Fucking finally.

Zeke:I decline to comment under my 5th amendment right.

Chase:That’s the one for self-incrimination!!!

ZEKE

I crack my eyes open after what feels like five minutes of sleep, clocking golden hues of early morning sun cresting on the horizon and spilling in through my bedroom windows. Running a hand over my face, I roll my head sideways and gaze across at the reason I’m going to be running on fumes today.

Chloe’s long, caramel lashes dust my bicep, her plump lips lightly parted, still sporting the faint, faded stain of red I did my best to rub off last night. She tried to shower in the early hours of the morning, but I wouldn’t let her. A soft snore sucks in through her delicate, freckled nose and I smile, biting back a laugh. It’s quickly thwarted when I notice my sheets are draped around her waist, and with every intake of breath, her soft, full tits press against the side of my ribs.

I flex my back, careful not to disturb her, and inwardly groan as my muscles protest. One thing I can vouch for is that a night with this woman is more punishing than any workout could ever be. Butthe reward? Priceless. We had reached for each other all through the night, even when we were both exhausted and had barely anything left to give. A deluge of images cascades into my sleep-hazed brain. Her on her knees, taking my dick all the way into her throat, mascara dripping down her pretty face. Her bent over my bed frame with her hands tied to the post. Her perfect breasts bouncing as she rode my dick until I lost all control and surrendered myself to her. Her face as she begged me to stop, her body shaking and spent, drenched with sweat. My dick throbs painfully between my legs and I roll my eyes. How can I fuck this woman upwards of ten times and still need more?

It’s Sunday, but most of the Middle Eastern business weeks begin today and I have a packed morning of meetings I can’t skip. She stirs in her sleep, sliding forward and nuzzling her face into my neck, her hand snaking across my waist. What’s surprising is that I don’t hate it. Cuddling is not something I do and yet I’ve spent all night wrapped around her like a lovesick puppy.

Tracing my fingers over a stray strand of fiery hair that has fallen across her face to push it away, I let out a deep breath. She promised one night only and that means my time is up. But if she thinks I’m going to make that easy for her, she’s got another thing coming. I want this. I wanther. At least for now.

It’s not lost on me that I’ve abandoned every piece of logic as to why I shouldn’t. She’s my employee and our engagement is nothing but a business arrangement, yet here I am staring at her while she sleeps in my bed.Myfucking bed that has never seen a woman. I don’t even have women back to my house, let alone sleep beside them. She’s racking up firsts quicker than I can count.

Okay, time to get it together, Guerra. I roll her onto her back gently, placing a kiss on her soft, exposed neck as she wriggles. Dawn blue eyes blink sleepily up at me as I pull my head back and I smile. “Hey, I have to go into the office.”

She grumbles incoherently and frowns, rolling herself over so that she is facing away from me. The faint bruises in the shape of my fingers on her ribs make my cock pulse. I laugh softly and place another kiss on her shoulder before gently extricating my arm. “Good morning to you, too”

When I get out of the shower, she’s sleeping soundly again, her flame red hair splayed against my black pillowcases in striking contrast. Collecting my phone from the bedside table, I slip into the closet and fire off a quick text to Diego’s grandpa to check in.

The kid stayed with him last night, and although he’s never given me any reason to doubt his capability to look after him, I worry all the same. Sandra’s father is the only relative on his mother's side that he has a relationship with, not that there is much of a family to speak of. Despite my intolerance for Sandra as a person, I’ve never denied her the opportunity to be a part of her son's life. And the same goes for his grandpa. Even now, even after she willingly signed away her custodial rights, I would let her be as much a part of his life as she wanted. Unfortunately, that seems to be little to none.

I’m halfway through securing the Windsor knot in my tie when I decide to say screw it and tug it off, casting it to the side. I seem to spend my life in a suit, and today doesn’t feel like that kind of day. Opting for a white shirt and navy slacks only, I leave the top two buttons undone and walk back into my bedroom. Glancing across the room one last time at the sleeping woman in my bed, I shake my head and slip out the door. I’d like to think I know her pretty well by now, and something tells me a full freak-out about last night will be in the cards today.

***

“Mr. Guerra, I felt you should know…” My housekeeper Suzanna loiters in the lobby, wringing her hands.

“Everything okay?” I deposit Diego’s bag on the floor and urge him to enter the sitting room without me. He tears off merrily, humming lightly to himself out of tune.

“She says she is stress cleaning. I tried to stop her, but…” Suzanna’s eyes go wide and it’s clear she thinks she might get in trouble.

It takes my sleep deprived brain a second to catch up. Ah, a Chloe Devlin-sized freak out is clearly in full swing. “I’ll handle it,you can head home now. Thank you, Suzanna.” I smile, rubbing my hand down my face.

Today is a long fucking day. My feet feel heavy as I walk into the large, cavernous living space, spying Diego already engrossed in a TV show with garishly vibrant characters on the large flat screen above the fireplace, Chloe’s wretched cat hugged tightly to his chest. When I enter the kitchen, I see a petite figure sitting on the floor in the corner, clutching her knees to her chest.

“Take your shoes off!” she yelps, holding her hand out with wide eyes.

“Pardon me?” My brows knit together and fall to my Italian leather shoes.