Business Casual (Lovelight, #4)

by B.K. Borison

And now he’s doing the macarena in the middle of the dance floor, flower crown crooked on his dark head of hair, his jacket abandoned in one of the pine trees. He is…very fluid with his hips.

Beckett’s mouth tugs down in a fierce frown. “Why is Charlie screaming at you?” Because he’s a ridiculous human being who would flirt with a wall if he could. Because he loves trying to get a reaction out of me. Because that’s what he does.

The wine has left me feeling warm and loose. Untethered and unconcerned. I could use a dance with a handsome man.

I stare at the man in the middle of the dance floor, shimmying in place, thumbs hooked beneath his suspenders.

She looks like she could eat me alive. I fucking love it.

“You’ve been bellowing my name across the dance floor, Charlie.” “Wouldn’t have to bellow if you joined me sooner.”

Flirting has always been easy for me, but flirting with Nova is a goddamn delight. Her whole body comes alive under the attention, like a flower tilting toward the sun. I’m greedy for her reactions. For the way pink lights up her cheeks.

“Follow my feet with yours,” I tell her. “I won’t let you fall.” “I know you won’t,” she mumbles with her eyes cast down.

I clear my throat. “A gentleman never tells.” She gives me a look. “What?” “You. A gentleman.” Her fingertips inch under one of my suspender straps. She toys with it and then snaps it against my chest. All the blood in my body surges in one direction, and I have to force myself to keep moving around the dance floor. This is a development. Nova doesn’t typically flirt back.

Curious, I take a chance and inch my thumb up higher to where her dress dips in the back. I trace bare skin, and a hum catches in the back of her throat, her body lightly pressing into my touch. I am bewildered. Also, a little turned on. Okay, a lot turned on.

She has a deep red rose between her breasts, the long stem dipping down her sternum. I can’t stop looking at it. I’d like to bite it. Very much.

A faint blush rises on her cheeks. I think I like that more than the rose between her pretty tits.

A thrum of heat pounds once, right at the base of my spine. I love an authoritative woman. My hands flex and release.

“I’m asking if you’ll come home with me.” My face twists in confusion. “Sure, Nova. I can walk you home.” “No, you idiot. I want you to come home with me.” I stare at her blankly. “For snacks?”

My chest pinches, my mouth goes dry, and I stumble over my own feet. I almost send us head over ass into a Douglas fir.

I’m wheezing. Am I wheezing? What is that ringing noise? Am I having a stroke? I might be having a stroke.

I’ll be hearing her murmur come home with me in her husky, sweet voice for the rest of my life.

I move us across the dance floor, painfully aware of every place our bodies touch. Thighs, hips, chest. This dance I begged her for is now my personal hell.

I give her a jerky nod, but my mind is still racing. My thoughts slip through like tiny grains of sand, slowly piling up until I feel overwhelmed. My brain is excellent at catastrophizing. I

I have no right to ask anything of her, I know, but the idea of her asking someone else what she just asked me has me borderline murderous.

“If you want me to take you home, I’m going to need you to ask me again.”

I’m used to being a good time. A fun deviation from normal patterns and behaviors. But with Nova, I want to be a choice. Not a whim. Not a regret.

She acts like she’s unaffected by me, but I’m on to her now.

I’m about to enter my farmer era. Cowboy Charlie, unlocked.

“Because you deserve better than fine. You deserve—” She glances around her kitchen, gaze landing on a stack of miniature cakes by the ovens. She points at them. “You deserve the whole cake, Charlie.”

“You deserve the whole cake and I’m worried you’re settling for your…snacks.”

Of course I’m interested. Very enthusiastic, actually. Flags, confetti. Exclamation point.”

Ready when you are, Nova girl.

I like losing myself, but sometimes— Sometimes I think I miss being known.

I immediately save the picture to my phone. And then glance at Beckett again. He’s talking to Layla about adding more chocolate chips to the zucchini bread, not concerning himself with the wheezing sound that probably just left my mouth. Thank god.

“Everything okay?” Beckett asks. I keep my head ducked. I’m grinning like an idiot. “All good.” I’m better than good. Nova is flirting back.

Ink & Wild in Inglewild.

“Do you like torturing me?” I smile at him. “So very much.”

“For the record,” he says. “I like it too.”

Charlie and I have been playing chicken with each other since a slow dance beneath the stars.

I snap my appointment book closed. I want this itchy, anxious feeling out from beneath my skin. I want to set everything resting on my shoulders aside, just for one night. I want my mind to go somewhere else.

He nods, confused. “All right. I’ll help you with whatever you need, Nova. You know that.” “Good, because I’d like you to walk me home.” I swallow down the butterflies. “And then I’d like for you to stay.”

Her left eyebrow ticks up every time I pull a new marshmallow out of the bag, and I wonder how much I can get away with before she kicks me out of her house.

“Charlie,” she says, her voice a honeyed rasp, “would you like to stay for a night of hot, passionate sex?” She’s done teasing, I guess. I swallow hard and shift in my chair. “I would. Thank you for asking.”

I bet if I pushed her knees wider, I could see what color underwear she’s hiding under that pretty skirt.

Thigh highs. She’s wearing thigh highs.

“Ah,” I grin and tuck a quick kiss to her kneecap. Her leg jumps. “You like my head between your legs, Nova girl?”

“You trying to Pretty Woman me, Nova?”

I want to see that rose between her breasts and uncover the rest of the art I know she’s hiding. I want to trace it with my teeth and then my tongue. My hands too.

“You’ll talk to me tomorrow. You won’t hide from me. I refuse to be a regret, Nova.”

“I can’t wait to watch how you take me, Nova.” He rolls his hips against mine, his cock hitting just right.

“You gonna come for me, Nova girl? So soon?”

“You’re so wet. Is all of this for me?” She hums, eyes closed, hips moving into my touch. “I’m thinking about John Stamos.” I grin. “He must be doing it for you, then.”

“You can take it,” I murmur. My chest is heaving and my fingertips are pressing bruises into her skin. She presses down another half inch. “There you go. You’re doing so good.”

“Kiss,” she slurs. “Kiss me while I fuck you.”