The Two Week Arrangement (Penthouse Affair, #1) novel Chapter 27

I won’t let myself spiral with worry right now. Endorphins are still pulsing through my system, and I’m determined not to worry. At least, not yet. I’m sure there will be time for regrets and examination of my behavior come morning.

Dominic gazes down at me fondly, touching my cheek one last time as he holds my gaze. I see the hint of a smile on his lips, and then he swings his legs over the side of the bed and tugs on his black boxer briefs. “I think I agree. Roger the others were about to call it a night too.”

We dig our toiletries out of our suitcases. With two sinks, the bathroom is roomy enough for us to stand side by side while we brush our teeth. Normally, I’d be a little self-conscious, but it feels natural. Comfortable. Almost . . . domestic. I push away the dangerous thought.

After changing into pajamas, I slip beneath the covers, wiggling a little to enjoy their soft, silky slide. Everything feels so good—I’m still languid and sensitive from earlier. Though I’m sure it doesn’t hurt that our guest bed comes equipped with linens worthy of a five-star hotel.

Dominic glances up from his suitcase to shoot me a soft smile that I don’t dare call affectionate. “You look comfortable. Sleep well.”

“You’re not coming to bed?”

He pulls out his laptop and sets it on the desk. “In a bit. There’s a little more work I wanted to get done first.”

I’m a little disappointed, but mostly just amused. How typical of a workaholic CEO. “Good night, boss.”

He chuckles as he turns off the bedside lamp. “Good night, intern. Let me know if the light bothers you.”

Although the night has worn me out, for a little while I let my gaze rest on him, silhouetted by the soft glow of his screen. He really is an amazing man. Hardworking to a fault, sweet when he wants to be, a skilled and generous lover . . . even though he’s made it clear that he doesn’t believe in love.

My eyes grow heavier. I drift off to the quiet noise of tapping keys.

• • •

I’m woken by Dominic nudging me and saying something.

“Wha . . . ?” I squint up at him in the bright morning sunlight.

“We have to go,” he says insistently.

I rub my eyes with one hand and grope for my phone with the other. “What time is it?”

“It’s after ten.” Before I can ask, he adds, “You slept through breakfast. I had Roger’s valet put a few muffins in the limo for you to eat while we drive.”

Wow, I almost never sleep this late. I guess he wore me out last night.