Page 18 of Lovesick

I shook my head, but it was weak, half-hearted, traitorous.

Dean smiled. A slow, devastating thing. He brought his hand up. Not to touch me, but to trail his fingers lightly along the neckline of my blouse, just enough to make me shiver.

“You’re mad,” he said, voice almost mocking. “But not because I touched you.”

Dropping his hand, his fingers curled around the edge of my desk on either side of me, boxing me in.

“You’re mad because you liked it.”

God help me, he was right.

“That was unprofessional,” I managed to say.

He laughed. “You weren’t complaining last night when I was unprofessional.”

“That was different. That was—”

“After hours?” he raised an eyebrow, his eyes taking in every inch of my face. “Is that what makes it acceptable to you? The time of day?”

I swallowed hard. “Dean, please…I have to get to work.”

“You’re so full of shit, Emilia. Admit it to yourself, at least. You enjoy every second of the attention I give you.”

He was so fucking ruthless. He had no shame. But then, why would he if he was right? He had me all figured out, almost as if he had known me all my life. Still, he didn’t want anything more than control over me.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to my lips, with his hands gripping my waist tightly to lift me onto the desk. His fingers hooked around the hem of my skirt, pushing it over my thighs.

“Spread your legs,” he demanded.

Of course, I showed no resistance. I wanted this. Whatever he was about to do, I would give myself to him once again.

“You want to get to work?” he asked, sinking to his knees in front of me. “Then I’d better take care of you first.”

Seconds later, my tights and panties were off, and his mouth was on me, hot and relentless. I gasped as his tongue flicked over my clit, and I nearly came undone right then, my fingers tangling in his hair as I tried to hold on.

“You’re so fucking soaked,” he said between strokes of his tongue. “You think you can pretend you don’t want this?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I was already too far gone. His hands gripped my thighs, holding me steady as he went to work with devastating focus. My breath came in ragged gasps, and I knew my nails were digging into his scalp, but he didn’t seem to care. He only increased the pressure, drawing shattering circles around my clit until I couldn’t hold back anymore. I came hard, heat pulsing through my entire body, my legs shaking as he held me firm.

“Dean,” I cried out, the name ripped from my throat.

He didn’t stop until I was a mess of quivering limbs and ragged breaths, until I was sure I couldn’t take any more. Then he stood, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, looking down at me with a mixture of triumph and satisfaction.

“Still mad?” he asked, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

“Yes,” I panted.

His laugh was low and smug. He leaned in, pressing his lips to mine, and I tasted myself on him. I kissed him back, fierce and needy, pulling him closer by the front of his shirt. But he wouldn’t stay close for too long.

He broke the kiss and stepped back, letting me catch my breath.

I watched him, my mind a blur as he adjusted his hair and smoothed his sleeves, like he hadn't just wrecked me in the middle of my office.

“Be in my office in thirty minutes,” he said, turning toward the door. “We’ll review the Morrison case.”

I nodded, still too breathless to trust my voice, my heart racing as he walked out, leaving me wanting more. Leaving me ruined, yet again.

6

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