Free The Hook-Up by Abigail Barnette

 
    I should have
been embarrassed at the schoolboy thrill I got whenever I saw my
mobile light up with an incoming call from Sophie, but it
couldn ’ t be helped. All
I had to do was think about her— and I rarely stopped thinking about her— and I wasn’t Neil Elwood, billionaire, but Neil
Elwood, befuddled teenager.
    Which can be damned unfortunate in the middle
of an important meeting one has flown five-thousand kilometers to
sit in on. No matter how discreetly I tried to check the number of
the incoming call, someone would notice that the most important
person in the room had ceased paying attention.
    Across the conference table, Valerie tilted
her head, her expression never changing as she stared me down. It
is one of the more effective techniques in her arsenal. It told me
I was caught, and in for the scolding of a lifetime.
    I tried to sound apologetic— and not
relieved— at the interruption. “Pardon me. Terribly sorry, but I do
have to take this.” I looked to Valerie. Her pleasant, neutral
smile that never reached her eyes warned me that I would be hearing
about this later. For Sophie, I would take my chances. “Please, do
go on without me.”
    Before Valerie could protest, I slipped out
and rounded the corner to my outer office. I answered the call as
the door closed behind me, and held up one finger as I passed my
assistant ’s desk, indicating I
was unavailable at the moment.
    “Darling, what a surprise. It ’ s nearly… well, it ’ s about six in the morning there,
isn ’ t it?” As if I had
to do the calculations. I spent every moment away from her thinking
about what she might be doing; Sophie’s probably sleeping right
now. Sophie’s probably having dinner right now. Sophie is probably
putting lotion on those beautiful feet right now and would she
think it odd if I were to ask to jack off onto them?
    She yawned, and I was brought immediately to
our bed in New York, her warm, naked body curled up beside mine.
Only one more night, and I would be home. That did little to ease
the aching loneliness in my chest.
    “I wanted to catch you at lunch,” she sighed sleepily. “I know
you ’ re going to be busy
later.”
    “ Yes,
quite. ” I pulled the door to my private office closed and
went to sit behind my desk. My calendar was open on the computer
screen. There, in blue, blocked out from eight to nine, was
“Dinner.” Dinner with Emir, our acquaintance from the private BDSM
club Sophie and I had visited in Paris. Dinner and a bit more, if
the evening leaned in that direction.
    “You have to promise to call and tell me all
about it as soon as you can,” Sophie purred. Her voice, God in
heaven, the low, feminine alto was like the idle of a Ferrari 458
Italia. Although in arguments, I ’ d heard her speaking tone pitch as high as a
revving Lamborghini Aventador .
    Just the sound of her voice got my cock
up.
    “I ’ ll tell you, if there is anything to tell. We
didn ’ t make any firm
plans,” I reminded her. “If the dynamic is strange without you, it
won’t be anything beyond a pleasant dinner with a casual
friend.”
    “Well, I hope the dynamic is amazing, and you
have a really good time.” Her sleepy laugh might as well have been
a hand cupping my balls.
    “Either way, when I get home you ’ d better be ready for some
incredibly filthy—” a knock on the door jarred me. “Look, darling,
I must go, but I ’ ll call
you before I go to sleep tonight.”
    “I’m holding you to that,” she warned me.
“Both the call and the filthy sex.”
    Phones were fucking useless when all you wanted to
do was grab your woman and kiss her senseless. “I love you,
Sophie.”
    “I love you, too.” There was a brief pause,
and I held my breath until she added, “Sir,” with the sexiest
giggle.
    The knock came again just as I ended the
call. “ Yes, Valerie, for
god ’ s sake come in. ”
    “I’m sorry, am I inconveniencing the man who
just ran out on an explanation of a foreign