Read Online Under Contract (The GEG Series) by Jacquelyn Ayres - Free Book Online
Authors: Jacquelyn Ayres
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all of this money at your fingertips and the first thing you do is pay bills?” He looks at me strangely.
“Well ... yeah,” I say with some discomfort. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to pay bills.
“Buy yourself something, baby.” He taps my knee.
“I did.”
“What?”
“A roof over my head.” As soon as I say it, I wish I could hit rewind and delete. Why did I say that? I can’t even muster the courage to look at Mitch.
“Who’s your mortgage carried by, baby?” he asks after a few minutes of awkward silence.
“Speaking of banks.” I look up, firmly enacting my amazing ability to change the subject. “Wilson had his head so far up your ass, I think he cut off some oxygen to his brain.”
“What do you mean?”
“He put one too many zeros in for the transfer. You should go into our account and transfer the money back,” I say, before forking a bite of salad too big for my mouth.
“You say he put too much in and you want me to take it out?” He looks at me like ... hmm. I don’t know. This is a new look.
“Yes.” I nod. He stares at me. “What?”
“Nothing. You’re just ... you’re a rare breed, Charlotte McKendrick.” He looks mystified. I shrug. “So,” he starts. “I need to head up to my house in Andover to check on a few things. You’ll meet me and we’ll stay there tonight.”
“What about this place? You’ve already paid for tonight.”
“So what?” he asks, continuing with his lunch. I just stare at him.
I sigh. “I should introduce you to my Aunt Clara.”
“Why’s that?” He takes a sip of his flavored water.
“She has more money than sense, too.”
“Charlotte,” Mitch says, and closes his eyes to compose himself ... I think. “Have I once put you down for not having any money?”
“No.”
“Then don’t put me down for having it!” he snaps.
“Uh ... sor ... sorry,” I stammer, feeling like a complete idiot. He’s right. That was rude of me.
“I’ll give you the address before you leave. That was good, baby, thanks.” He throws his container back into the bag.
“Oh, good—can’t go wrong with a Cobb salad, it has a bit of everything. There are some huge soft oatmeal-raisin cookies in there.” I point to the other bag.
“I’ll wait for you.” He props his elbow on the table and leans his head against his closed fist.
“Few more bites ... I’m getting full.” I chew on another piece. “Mitch, don’t do that,” I plead.
“Don’t do what—talk with my mouth full?”
I roll my eyes and swallow. “Don’t just sit there and stare at me like you’re trying to figure me out.”
“I’d have to be a genius to figure you out in one night. Truth be told, I have a feeling I’ll never really figure you out.” He reaches forward and thumbs away the dressing at the corner of my mouth. I grab his hand and take his thumb between my lips. My tongue swirls around the tip before I suck purposefully at it. His breath hitches.
“Damn it, Charlotte,” he says under his breath. I release his thumb and shoot him a mischievous smile. I take my last bite and start cleaning the table. I peek at the clock—thirty minutes. I come back to the table to stand next to Mitch and grab the bag with dessert. Mitch takes it out of my hand and tosses it. “My dessert isn’t in that package,” he says, pulling me to him by the waist of my jean capris. He pushes his chair back and moves me in front of him. “Do you know what I thought about the entire time I was in that meeting?” he asks, keeping a steady lock on my eyes. His fingers work at my button and zipper.
“What?” I can barely hear myself.
“I thought about,” he says, pulling my capris and panties down, “these lovely legs wrapped around my neck. Then I thought about my face buried between them, my tongue tasting this sweet pussy of yours.” A single finger traces my cleft.
“Jesus, Mitch,” I gasp and feel myself turn about a hundred shades of red.
“Are
“Well ... yeah,” I say with some discomfort. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to pay bills.
“Buy yourself something, baby.” He taps my knee.
“I did.”
“What?”
“A roof over my head.” As soon as I say it, I wish I could hit rewind and delete. Why did I say that? I can’t even muster the courage to look at Mitch.
“Who’s your mortgage carried by, baby?” he asks after a few minutes of awkward silence.
“Speaking of banks.” I look up, firmly enacting my amazing ability to change the subject. “Wilson had his head so far up your ass, I think he cut off some oxygen to his brain.”
“What do you mean?”
“He put one too many zeros in for the transfer. You should go into our account and transfer the money back,” I say, before forking a bite of salad too big for my mouth.
“You say he put too much in and you want me to take it out?” He looks at me like ... hmm. I don’t know. This is a new look.
“Yes.” I nod. He stares at me. “What?”
“Nothing. You’re just ... you’re a rare breed, Charlotte McKendrick.” He looks mystified. I shrug. “So,” he starts. “I need to head up to my house in Andover to check on a few things. You’ll meet me and we’ll stay there tonight.”
“What about this place? You’ve already paid for tonight.”
“So what?” he asks, continuing with his lunch. I just stare at him.
I sigh. “I should introduce you to my Aunt Clara.”
“Why’s that?” He takes a sip of his flavored water.
“She has more money than sense, too.”
“Charlotte,” Mitch says, and closes his eyes to compose himself ... I think. “Have I once put you down for not having any money?”
“No.”
“Then don’t put me down for having it!” he snaps.
“Uh ... sor ... sorry,” I stammer, feeling like a complete idiot. He’s right. That was rude of me.
“I’ll give you the address before you leave. That was good, baby, thanks.” He throws his container back into the bag.
“Oh, good—can’t go wrong with a Cobb salad, it has a bit of everything. There are some huge soft oatmeal-raisin cookies in there.” I point to the other bag.
“I’ll wait for you.” He props his elbow on the table and leans his head against his closed fist.
“Few more bites ... I’m getting full.” I chew on another piece. “Mitch, don’t do that,” I plead.
“Don’t do what—talk with my mouth full?”
I roll my eyes and swallow. “Don’t just sit there and stare at me like you’re trying to figure me out.”
“I’d have to be a genius to figure you out in one night. Truth be told, I have a feeling I’ll never really figure you out.” He reaches forward and thumbs away the dressing at the corner of my mouth. I grab his hand and take his thumb between my lips. My tongue swirls around the tip before I suck purposefully at it. His breath hitches.
“Damn it, Charlotte,” he says under his breath. I release his thumb and shoot him a mischievous smile. I take my last bite and start cleaning the table. I peek at the clock—thirty minutes. I come back to the table to stand next to Mitch and grab the bag with dessert. Mitch takes it out of my hand and tosses it. “My dessert isn’t in that package,” he says, pulling me to him by the waist of my jean capris. He pushes his chair back and moves me in front of him. “Do you know what I thought about the entire time I was in that meeting?” he asks, keeping a steady lock on my eyes. His fingers work at my button and zipper.
“What?” I can barely hear myself.
“I thought about,” he says, pulling my capris and panties down, “these lovely legs wrapped around my neck. Then I thought about my face buried between them, my tongue tasting this sweet pussy of yours.” A single finger traces my cleft.
“Jesus, Mitch,” I gasp and feel myself turn about a hundred shades of red.
“Are
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