Page 57 of Mr. Infuriating (Mister #1)

Gretchen

I don’t know how long I stared at my sleeping boy in the playpen before I slipped my black collared sleep shirt over my head. I knew if Jake woke up, he could easily climb out, but at least he’d be safe from rolling off a bed.

It wouldn’t be long before he’d be too big for a playpen. Where had the time gone?

Another reminder my baby clock was ticking.

I was playing with fire—being with Gabe again. For all my “no strings attached, you won’t hurt me” bravado, deep down I knew my heart would end up broken, one way or another. One day soon I’d either mourn the loss of him or the idea of having more children.

That was a problem for future Gretchen. Tonight’s Gretchen was going to enjoy the heck out of being with Gabe and his dirty mouth.

My phone buzzed with a text and my fingers shook slightly as I opened the app.

Gabe: Britt’s zonked out, so we can “talk” now. All night if we want. My door’s open.

I had to work in the morning. We weren’t going to be “talking” all night.

Gabe: And remember—no panties.

His bossiness was hot. As was the memory of why he said not to wear any underwear .

I can do this .

I can sleep with him without getting attached.

This is just sex. Lots of people have friends with benefits.

I guess in my case, it was a cabinet maker with benefits, but close enough.

Pulling my panties off, I tossed them in my weekender bag next to the closet, then paused to take a deep breath with my hand on the doorknob leading to the hall.

Was I nervous or excited?

Maybe a little of both.

I heard my phone buzzing on the bed, so I went back and picked it up.

Gabe: Sweetheart, if you don’t get your cute butt in here NOW, I’m going to come get you and haul you back to my room—caveman style.

Caveman style? The thought made butterflies erupt I my belly.

Me: I’d be there already if I hadn’t had to go back to retrieve my phone and read your text!

Me: Although, tell me more about this caveman thing.

****

Gabe

My cock was instantly hard after reading her message.

Well, hard er .

I’d had a semi since I saw her car in my driveway, but it’d gone full mast the minute she propositioned me in the kitchen. Setting up the playpen while having to adjust myself every few seconds had been tricky.

I’d thought having a task to do would calm things down below the belt, but the idea of having her in my bed tonight overrode everything else in my Neanderthal brain.

And she wanted to know more about “this caveman thing”? I was more than happy to show her my inner barbarian.

But when Gretchen appeared in my bedroom doorway with her hair down around her shoulders, wearing a silky black nightshirt, I wavered between wanting to rip it off her, drag her by her hair to the bed, and hold her down while I fucked her hard, to pulling her in my arms and worshipping every inch of her body before making love to her.

Decisions, decisions.

She tucked her hair behind her ear and didn’t move past the threshold, appearing far more timid than she’d been in the kitchen earlier.

I held my hand out and softly commanded, “Come here, sweetheart.”

She ventured further into the room and closed the door. I heard the lock click, then she approached me without hesitation.

That’s my girl.

When she was within arm’s reach, I grasped her wrist and tugged her against my chest, so my arm could wrap around her waist.

Damn, she felt good, and I realized how much I’d missed holding her .

If I were being honest with myself, I’d missed everything about her.

Looking down at her with a smile, I murmured, “Hi.”

Her arm slid around my body as she nestled against me and gazed up into my eyes.

“Hi.”

I dipped my head and gently touched my lips against hers, and she let out a contented sigh.

It looked like I was going with the worshipping option.

Maybe tomorrow I’d try the caveman approach.

****

Gretchen

Gabe gently broke the kiss and stared down at my face as he stroked my cheek with the backs of his fingertips.

“You’re so beautiful.”

His touch and his gaze were almost reverent, and it would have been so easy for me to get lost in the moment with him. He was such a good man and a great dad; I knew it wouldn’t take much to fall in love with him.

The domesticity of our situation—being in our pajamas with our kids fast asleep in their rooms—messed with my head.

I reminded myself that our arrangement wasn’t about sharing a moment, or playing house, or falling in love. It was physical.

Period. The end.

I reached down to lightly squeeze his junk and flirted, “Are you going to tell me more about this caveman style? ”

He shook his head. “Not tonight, darlin’. Tonight I want to take my time and show you how much I’ve missed you.”

Nope. Not gonna happen.

I decided honesty was the best course of action, but also didn’t want to kill the mood, so I stroked the outline of his cock over his grey pajama pants when I replied, “I think hard and dirty is a better idea. There’s less chance of feelings getting involved that way.”

“What’s wrong with having fee—” He stopped short. “Never mind; you’re right.”

His fingers slid into my hair, but then he gripped a fistful and harshly held my head in place, so I had no choice but to look at him when he snarled, “You better not have any panties on or they’re going to get ripped off you.”

Wow! He flipped that switch pretty easily.

That’s hot.

Finding his threat sexy, I almost wished I’d left my underwear on.

Using his free hand, he hiked my nightshirt up to my waist and reached between my legs to find no barrier.

“Mmm, you’re soaked, darlin’.”

He ran the length of his index finger down my slit, making me whimper while he cooed his approval.

“Good girl.”

Dammit.

How am I not supposed to not catch feeling when he calls me a good girl?

I realized it didn’t matter what our “arrangement” was. Soft and slow or hard and dirty—Gabe Mitchell was going to ruin me.