Page 54 of Double Fault

I’m dry humping my boss. This is a terrible idea.

But it feels so good.

“Sabrina,” he moans.

Spurred on by the desperation in his tone, I grind against him faster, pressing firmly into his erection. God, it would be so easy to reach down between us and take his warm length in my hand.

He grips the bare skin of my hips between my loose cotton shirt and sleep shorts, and as he slides his hands higher, a shiver of need shoots down my spine. He doesn’t stop until his fingers sit at my bra line and his thumbs circle my nipples.

I gasp against his mouth at the sensation and grind harder. I could orgasm just like this.

With one thumb still toying with a tight bud, he cuffs his other hand around my neck and squeezes gently.

I’ve never experienced anything like it. The slight lack of oxygen causes my core to pulse and my heart to race. All my senses are heightened.

“Noah.” His name is a pure whimper. I don’t think I’ve ever sounded so needy.

“You look pretty with my hand around your throat.” He kisses along my jaw. “And you sound incredible when you’re gasping my name.”

Oh my God.

There are a million reasons why this is a bad idea, but fuck, I can’t convince myself to stop and walk away like any normal, reasonable person would.

He pulls me in for another kiss while I explore his chest. I never thought about what an intense sport tennis was before this, but Noah is incredibly fit.

“Fuck, baby. Do you want me to come in my pants?”

“Yes.” The word is barely audible as I flick at one of his nipples.

He chuckles, the vibration in his chest nearly sending me over the edge. I roll my hips harder, faster. We’re both so close. I can sense it.

“Oh, fuck.” His head drops back with a groan just as fireworks explode behind my eyes and I detonate.

I ride him shamelessly, kissing the column of his neck, as he grips my ass, grinding me into an erection that doesn’t feel like it’s softening at all.

When the spasms ebb, I collapse against his chest, my ear over his rapidly beating heart. Mine might be pumping even faster.

We stay like that, neither of us moving for several long moments. Eventually, he presses one tender kiss to the top of my head. Then he picks me up and sets me on the couch, avoiding eye contact as he does.

My heart sinks as I clock the remorse etched into his features. I don’t expect a declaration of love or for him to throw me over his shoulder and cart me off to my room for more, but the rejection hurts.

Even worse? It hits me like a punch to the gut.

I could lose my job.

A job I’ve come to love.

One that pays me well.

I could lose Maddie.

He avoids the cheesecake smeared on the carpet, hands on his hips and eyes downcast, the front of his sweatpants damp, and clears his throat.

“We can’t do that again.”

I swallow, pretending that doesn’t sting. Itshouldn’t. He’s only speaking the truth. “No, we can’t.”

He nods, like that’s all that needs to be said, steps around the mess, and shuffles to his room without even a glance back.

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