“Fair warning, I’m not going to last long. You’ve kept me hard as a fucking rock all night. All week, actually.” He tightens my grip on him as he guides my hand up and down his length. “Listening to you moan, feeling you come on my fingers.” His voice grows carnal in my ear as he rocks his hips in unison with the strokes of my hand. “You have no idea how badly I want you.” He moves his hand to my breast, cupping and firmly massaging. “I want to be inside you, feel you come on my cock.”

He caresses my neck with his lips as his sinfully dirty words heat me to my core. I moan and squirm against him. His shaft is slick with pre-cum and I glide over him faster in my excitement, imagining him inside me with every stroke. He slides his hand down between my wet thighs and the second he touches my clit, I explode, screaming his name.

Austin follows after, with a raspy, “Elizabeth.”

After our bodies stop quivering, Austin leans over the side of the bed and grabs the tank top I was wearing earlier. He wipes off my hand then himself before tossing it into a hamper at the end of the bed.

Austin lies back down and pulls me into him. I rest my head in the delicious place where his shoulder meets his chest, a place so comfortable I think it was designed just for me. The last thing I remember as I drift off to sleep is him stroking my back in sweet figure eights.

* * * *

My brain vaguely registers some sort of beeping sound just before Austin stirs under me, pulling away. I only closed my eyes a minute ago. It can’t possibly be morning.

“What time is it?” I mumble, only half awake.

“Early. Really early.” He reaches for his cell phone in his pants on the floor and silences the alarm. “Go back to sleep. I’ve gotta head out or I’ll be late.”

“You’re leaving?” I’m sulking, but after last night, how can he run out first thing in the morning? I pull the covers around my body, colder now without Austin lying next to me. Aren’t we supposed to have breakfast, or cuddle, or at least talk?

He isn’t your boyfriend!

It’s getting harder every day to think of Austin as just some playboy jock.

An employee.

I know this is nothing more than a job to him, but I can’t help feeling there is a connection between us. There has to be something here. He has to feel it too.

“I’ve gotta be in the gym by six-thirty. I’m already running late.” Or, maybe not. I’m a sentimental idiot.