And draw it he does.

My orgasm barrels into me, an impossibly strong force, and I surrender to it.

I barely register Carter’s as my own consumes me. He buries himself inside me, his words and groans nothing but murmurs to me as my blood thunders through my ears.

We roll to the side, and I push my hair from my face to breathe clearly. He settles his arm over my waist as he catches his breath, then props himself up on his elbow. “You didn’t have another appointment this afternoon, did you?” he asks me, amused.

“Nope… But I am supposed to be at the restaurant again,” I respond, smiling back at him.

“I’m pretty sure your client won’t mind.” He cups my chin and kisses me softly. “Wait here.” He pulls out of me and removes the condom, then disappears into the bathroom to the side of the room.

A chill skates across my skin now he isn’t here, and my stomach ties itself into a knot.

Wait here? Like this? Naked on his bed like he’s going to draw me like a fucking French girl? Uh, no. That’s not how this works.

Hell, nothing is working like any of it is supposed to at this point.

I sit up and grab the covers, pulling them back and over me. It chases away the slight coldness and makes me feel a bit more… appropriate, let’s say.

Sure, Bee. You just came all over your client’s cock, in his bed, but let’s think about appropriateness now.

Shit.

Carter comes out of the bathroom and throws me a towel. He’s walking around with absolutely nothing on, his cock still semi-hard, but that doesn’t seem to faze him as he pulls open a drawer to his dresser and removes some underwear.

I clean up awkwardly as he puts his boxers on, then I reach forward and grab my panties. My unwearable panties.

He turns and his eyes drop to the underwear I’m holding. “Ah.”

“There’s, uh… A spare pair in my purse.”

His eyes snap up to mine, dancing with laughter. “There is, is there?”

I lift a shoulder. “You told me to bring spare panties. What can I say? Sometimes I do as I’m told.” Especially when there’s a chance it could benefit me.

He winks and heads out of the room. I watch, unashamedly, as he walks away. I mean, come on. I pretty much just screamed whatever shame I had left right on out of my body.

And talking of shame…

The real shame should be that I haven’t done what I was supposed to do when I came here. Shit. Fuck. I just let him seduce me and get under my skin even more than he already is. Now I’m afraid he’s kind of stuck there.

He is, isn’t he?

Oh, God. Of all the people to get stuck under my skin, it had to be him.

Talking of him… He comes back into his room, holding my purse. I crack a smile at seeing this handsome, six-foot something, ripped as hell man wearing black and white boxer briefs, carrying a bright red Michael Kors purse.

“My color?” he questions, swinging it over his shoulder and pouting.

A laugh bursts out of me.

This cannot be real.

“You didn’t have to bring the whole thing,” I tell him, taking it and setting it on my lap. I locate my panties fairly quickly.

“You never go in a ladies’ purse,” Carter laughs quietly. “I told you—I was raised a gentleman. And that includes the spanking.”

I want to roll my eyes, but what I actually do is run my tongue over my teeth. I grab my bra and get dressed, locating my blouse on the floor at the end of the bed. I slip my arms in and my fingers are poised to do up the first button when Carter approaches me.

He crooks two fingers beneath my chin and gently tilts my head up. His eyes are like an amazing emerald beacon, and my gaze is drawn to them instantly. “No snarky comeback? No smart-mouthed dig?”

I open my mouth to respond, but settle for shaking my head.

“What’s wrong?”

My teeth graze over my bottom lip. “You told my mom about us.”

He stills. “Was that the reason for this urgent meeting?”

“Yes. I’m… well, I was mad at you. I think you successfully fucked that right out of me.” I step away from him and do up two of my buttons before turning back to him and resting my hands on my hips. “Why would you do that?” He holds his hands up, but before he can say a word, I carry on. “Do you have any idea how fucking embarrassed I was when she told me? I’ve barely spoken to her for three days, Carter! Fucking hell—I may be a grown woman and able to make my own choices and mistakes, but I never once felt the need to bring what happened between us two weeks ago into your business decision!”

“Mistake?” he growls. He stalks toward me and grasps my chin, his eyes blazing down at me. “First things first. Did that feel like a fucking mistake to you, Bee? ‘Cause it sure as hell didn’t to me.”

I lick my lips in lieu of an answer.

First time was a mistake. The second? Totally deliberate.

“And second, I didn’t tell your mom a damn thing. I told her we knew each other through a mutual friend, and that was the mistake. She assumed—correctly—that we had a closer relationship than I was letting on, because why else would I tell her?”

“That is an excellent question,” I grind out, knocking his arm back.

“For you,” he says, taking the hand that just hit him. “Because even that night, I knew you were a feisty little thing. I wanted your mom to know that the only reason I hired you is because I couldn’t not, because you’re that goddamn fucking good at your job that there was never another option for a designer. I didn’t want her to find out somehow, someday, that you and I had been together and think that was the reason I hired you. I didn’t want anyone to find out and think of that, because you’re too damn good to be looked at as a pity case, Bee Donnelly.”

I take a deep breath in at those words. My throat is dry, and I lick my lips yet again in an attempt to create some saliva. “You didn’t need to hire me. Someone else could—”

“Not have done that design. You just… saw it. The others were good, don’t think I’m discrediting them. They were real fucking good, but they weren’t yours. Somehow you took what I envisioned and put it on paper without even asking me. How? I don’t know. I don’t want to know. I just know that in that moment nothing mattered more than it being abundantly clear that your skills as a designer were why I hired you.”

“Okay,” I say quietly. “Thank you. For doing that.”

He rubs his thumb over my pulse point, and with his other hand, brushes the back of his fingertips over my cheek. “You’re very welcome.”

I nod and avert my gaze. “What do we do now? I mean… What is this, Carter? What just happened?”

He inhales sharply and dips his face down to mine. My eyes flutter shut as our noses touch. “I don’t know, baby,” he rumbles. “But I like it. And I wanna keep it if you do.”

Do I? Want to keep this? “Keep it for what?”

“Trust me when I say I would have found you even if that Monday morning meeting wasn’t rescheduled with you. You intrigued me enough. There’re only a days left of the renovations. Spend that time with me. Let’s see where it goes.”

“In four days?”

He raises his eyebrows. “Cinderella fell in love in one night. We could be married in four days.”

I jerk back and stare at him. “I seriously hope you’re kidding right now.”

He looks at me, stony faced, and just when I’m about to tell him exactly what I think of that bullshit idea, he bursts out laughing and pulls me against him. “You bet your hot ass I’m fucking kidding. Marriage.” He shudders.

“Good to see we still agree on something,” I mutter as he lets me go. “Uh, Carter?”

“What?”

“You know we can’t tell anyone we’re spending time together… right? My mom is kind of trusting me not to do what just happened while you’re still technically a client.”

He rests a forearm on the dresser and meets my eyes across the room. “Thought you said you were good at doing what you were told.”