Page 50 of How to Play the Player

Neither of us moves. Slowly, my awareness of our proximity overwhelms everything else. As though realizing the monster is in the closet with you, only less scary.

Nathan turns slightly in the chair, bringing us face-to-face.

“Quinn,” he says, my name both a warning and a plea.

I should back away. But I don’t. “Nathan.”

“I’ll close the blinds.”

Heaven help me.

After he closes them, cutting us off from the outside world, I’m not sure who moves first—maybe we both do, like magnets side by side that are finally released from restraint. He quickly stands from the chair, pushing me up against the wall. His hands find my waist, my hands braced against his forearms.

Our lips instantly meet with none of the hesitation from before—there are no reservations in this kiss. Only hunger, pure and unrestrained. Nathan’s hands slide up my body to tangle in my hair, tilting my head to deepen the kiss. I make a sound that’s half gasp, half moan against his mouth, my fingers digging into his shoulders.

In one fluid motion, he lifts me and sets me on the edge of the desk. Papers scatter to the floor unnoticed as my legs part, drawing him closer until we’re pressed together. The only thing holding us back from each other’s heat is clothing.

“We shouldn’t,” I whisper against his lips, even as my hands work at the buttons of his shirt.

“Agreed,” he replies, trailing kisses down my throat and to my collar bone, making me arch against him. His hands slip beneath my blouse, warm against my skin.

I shiver as his fingers trace upward along my ribs, our breath mingling in the quiet office. He begins unfastening the buttons of my blouse, his eyes never leaving mine, turning each revealed inch of skin into a silent confession. When the last button yields, he pushes the silk from my shoulders, letting it whisper to the floor beside us.

“God, I’ve missed this,” he murmurs, reaching behind me to unclasp my bra, only for me to hear a ripping sound.

The straps slide down my arms as he pulls it away, exposing my breasts to his heated gaze. His eyes darken as he takes me in; his thumb traces the curve beneath one breast before he cups them both in his warm palms. He kneads them gently at first,then with more pressure as I arch into his touch, a gasp escaping my lips.

He pinches a hardened nipple between his thumb and forefinger, sending jolts of pleasure straight to my core. His mouth then replaces his hands, teeth grazing the sensitive peak before his tongue soothes the sting. I clutch his shoulders, my nails digging in. The sensation is both familiar and new—his touch remembering exactly how to unravel me while all I can do is respond to a year’s worth of pent-up desire.

He kisses his way back up to my lips as his hands travel downward again until he reaches the waistband of my skirt.

I put my hands on his. “We shouldn’t—” I say, my breathing ragged.

“Tell me to stop,” he challenges, his voice rough as he nips my earlobe and pulls my skirt up to my waist.

Instead, I pull him back to my mouth, kissing him with an intensity that matches his own desperation. I grab his shoulder, lifting my hips slightly so he can push the garment up completely. It reveals my pink lace panties.

My fingers fumble with the waistband of his pants. My heart is pounding so loud in my ears, I’m convinced he hears it too. But before I can make much headway, he covers his hands over mine, stilling me. I look up, questioning. His gaze on me bores with an intensity that makes my breath catch in my throat.

“Not yet,” he murmurs, his voice a rough caress.

His hands guide me backward until I’m lying across my desk. The polished wood is cool against my bare skin, sending goose bumps racing across my back. I should care about where this is going. I don’t.

Nathan towers above me with his body between my parted legs. His broad shoulders blocking out the overhead lights. My mouth goes dry as his gaze tracks slowly down my body. The vulnerability of lying here, all but naked on my desk, shouldmake me uncomfortable. Instead, I feel worshipped. As though I’m water in a desert to him. I feel…powerful.

He leans down, brushing a kiss across my lips. “I want to take my time with you,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my skin, making the fine hairs on my neck stand up.

Would it be easier if this were just lust? If it were just two bodies seeking release? Maybe. But Nathan’s gentle reverence threatens to crack open all the places I’ve sealed shut since he left.

His mouth traces a path down to my breasts. His hands massage them both as he licks and laves my nipples into sharp pleasure. His stubble creates a delicious friction that makes me moan. Each kiss is deliberate, unhurried. I thread my fingers through his thick hair, softer than from before, and hold on—partly to guide him, partly to anchor myself in the storm of sensation.

He continues his way down my body with agonizing slowness, his lips trailing fire across my ribs, the slight dip of my stomach, the crest of my hipbone. The closer he gets to my core, the more eager I become. The muscles in my abdomen tighten as he nears my panties.

“Nathan,” I whisper, my voice breathy, desperate. “I need…”

He glances up, and the sight of him between my thighs, looking at me with those hungry eyes, sends a fresh wave of heat between my legs.

“Nathan,” I beg, “please.”

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