Page 52 of Connor

“Have you been speaking to Trisha?” I ask her.

“Yes, she came over last night to grab some dahl.”

My mouth waters just thinking about it. “I’m craving your dahl…” I tell her, and she laughs.

“You’ll get some soon enough.”

We talk for a few more moments before we end the call, with me slightly homesick and craving dahl and she and Dad in a deep conversation about Mom’s lack of a 401k.

I look out the window, seeing it’s dark out, not realizing that I’ve been so busy all day that I barely noticed the time. I pack up my office and look at the folder with the contract again. I signed it this morning. I signed it after the first read. I barely had to think twice. I know he’s notorious for his dating life, if the search online that Trisha and I did back in New York is anything to go by. But the Connor I’m getting to know here in Whispers is nothing like his paparazzi presence makes him out to be. Other than being devastatingly handsome and a whiskey tycoon, since those things remain true.

It was my disbelief about it all that made me read it two more times, just to ensure I was reading it right. It took me by surprise. When he mentioned a contract, I was thinking it was something to do with the spa, but when I opened it and started to read, a whirl of emotions ran through me. Is it even real? What does it all mean? Does Connor Whiteman like me? Shock and disbelief turned into certainty and a signature pretty quickly. I’m not sure what’s going to happen, or if anything will, but I do know that for the first time in a long time, he’s a man who I’m acutely aware of and he’s starting to infiltrate most of my thoughts. The way he moves around the office with this arrogant yet charming allure. The way he talks, committed to his thoughts, steadfast in his approach to business. Obviously, after we kissed, things became a little clearer to both of us. Tempted is too loose of a word for what we’re feeling toward each other. It feels deeper than that.

Is it hormones? Just sexual expression? Will we have each other once, and then the fire will go out? Is it the fact that I’m away, here in Whispers, and living essentially a new life that has me feeling more carefree than I ordinarily would? Like when you go on holiday and throw all caution to the wind. I don’t know exactly, but I do know it feels different. I want him to touch me all over, including the parts of my body that I usually wouldn’t be confident with, like my soft tummy and thicker thighs. I want to kiss him, feel his hands grab me again, let his tongue explore some more, and if we need a legal document signed in order for us to discover whatever burning feelings we’re currently dabbling in, then sign me up.

Everything Connor has outlined in the contract is all beneficial to me. My job and full salary and benefits were protected. If something happens, and I choose to leave immediately, I’ll be paid out and given a full reference and letters of support. There was a confidentiality clause and clear lines of communication outlined. But I don’t need any of that. I know Connor is a good man, and just like I told him at the mineral springs, I’m an adult, and I know what I want.

So with that thought in mind, I grab the folder and walk out of my office, knowing that everyone has left for the day, yet I’m acutely aware that the only person besides me who works this late and is remaining in the office is the man himself. The two of us are more alike than we probably care to admit.

I stride down the hall, seeing darkness around me, except for the glow of his office light, and I pause in his doorway, as I can hear other voices. He’s on a call, the other people on speaker as he sits back, looking at his screen intently. His eyes are focused, his fingers running back and forth across his lip as he takes in whatever they’re talking about. He hasn’t noticed me, so deep in concentration, so I walk into his office quietly, not sure if I’m overstepping, but his door was wide open.

As I do, he looks up and a small grin dances on his face at seeing me, then he leans back in his large leather chair. He looks like a king ruling over his kingdom as his eyes flick to the folder, and then back to me, before they travel down my front and back up again, like he’s surveying something he desires. My hips sway a little more than usual, the flowing, corporate appropriate dress I wore today, skimming my curves, and by the look on his face, he appreciates it.

Remaining tight-lipped, I move straight to the side of his desk, standing close to him but just out of reach. His eyes burn into me the entire way. I place the folder down in front of him, and his eyebrows rise as I stand and wait. My heart is thudding. I’ve never done anything like this before. I don’t know the rules; workplace romances are things I’ve only read about or seen on TV. He leans forward, opening the folder and flicking through the pages until he gets to the last one and sees both our signatures on it. Before I can even digest what’s happening, he stands abruptly and grabs my waist, pulling me to him like I’m his lifeline, and smashes his lips into mine.

It’s unexpected, but my gasp is swallowed by his mouth as his hand wraps around the nape of my neck. My brain finally fires into action as I grip on to his shirt and hold him to me, my body now aching for his touch. His beard is a little scratchy. I’ve never kissed a man with so much facial hair before. It’s not harsh, but rather soft and thick, and I lift my hands to cup his face, wanting to touch it.

He pulls back slightly before lowering his lips to my ear. His warm breath dances across my skin as he whispers, “Can you be quiet, baby girl?”

My heart races as I nod, having lost the ability to speak.Baby girl. God, I think my underwear melted right off my body just with his words.

The men on the other end of the conference call start talking about crops and harvests as Connor grabs my waist and lifts me onto his desk with ease. I hold my breath. This is the second time he’s lifted me, and as he places my butt on the edge of his very nice, very sturdy timber desk, he stands tall in front of me, shoulders back, like he’s proud to have me right where he wants me. I think back to the conversation I had with Trisha, where she talked about hot sex on his desk, and I swallow.Um… yes, please.

“I’m happy with that. Very happy,” he says, his voice loud, and it takes me a minute to understand he’s still taking part in the conference call, yet his eyes are firmly on me. I barely notice the conversation happening around us as the call moves on to the weather cycles, rain forecasted, and wild winds while he lowers, his face meeting mine, our lips a hair’s breadth apart.

“No noise. Not a sound…” he whispers, and I smile as he leans forward an inch and takes my lips with his again. I should’ve been prepared. I mean, the few kisses we’ve shared have been all-encompassing. But as we lean against each other, our lips move like they know exactly what the other likes. It’s sultry, all lips and tongue, tasting each other, his hands gripping into my hair and moving my head, positioning me exactly where he wants me to deepen our connection. Our hands start to roam then, discovering each other, and I run my palms up and down his torso, the feel of his hard chest underneath the soft silkiness of his business shirt a contradiction like nothing I’ve felt before. His large, warm hands smooth down my sides and back up, feeling like they cover most of my body, his thumb brushing across my nipple teasingly, and with every pass, I moan a little.

“Do you agree, Connor?” a man asks, and we both freeze. Connor pulls back, grinning at me.

“One hundred percent. Let’s go with that option,” he says, then he hits the mute button on his laptop and dives back in, his kiss getting more demanding. The woman in me purrs, my chest pushing out against his, my full feminine energy coming through as he moves his body so he’s standing between my legs. I spread them wider for him, glad I wore a flowing dress to work today. His hands drop to the back of my knees, where he pulls me and slides me toward the edge of the desk, toward him, and I feel my core brush his. The heat we share, his hard length against me, makes my hips move, wanting more.

As his hands continue up my legs, he gathers the fabric of my dress, the material skirting up my bare legs, my skin feeling cool without coverage as he pushes it to my waist. He moves slowly, like he’s waiting for me to stop him, but I’m too far gone.

“Don’t stop…” I whisper against his mouth, telling him I want it. I want more, I want him. My mind is mush, but my body is aching, desperate to feel more of him. I’ve lost all consideration for the workplace. The professional in me would tut at my behavior, seeing as I’m almost spread-eagle on my boss’s desk, yet this feels like the most natural, safest interaction I’ve ever had with a man.

I’m almost shivering with need, and he acts like he has all the time in the world. Like there’s no desire to get it over with and get back to his call. He caresses my skin, like he wants to memorize it, taking his time, all the while his lips continue to move demandingly over mine, brandishing me, and I know that I will feel this kiss for hours after it ends.

“Connor,” I moan as I lean back on his desk on one hand while my other digs into the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. He leans over me, not separating our mouths, his hands gripping on to my waist.

“You feel good, baby girl… so fucking good in my arms,” he growls low, and my pussy pulses at his words. I need to mine whatever is in the soil here in Whispers because the men around here are surely the eighth wonder of the world.

His lips move from my mouth down my neck and warmth spreads across my body as his beard tickles my skin, the friction a perfect tease as his palms mold my breasts. I’ve always been big-chested, and finding bras that fit plus look good and are comfortable is a constant challenge, so I’ve always hated my breasts. Until now.

“Fucking phenomenal…” I hear him murmur as his lips lower across my shoulders, his fingers getting busy undoing the buttons at the front of my dress and pulling the fabric to the side, baring my chest to him, my white bra now on full display. His movements quicken, like he suddenly can’t hold back any longer, and my breaths turn to pants as my hips start to grind against his.

I lean farther back, my body arching like I’m doing a yoga pose as he pulls down the cups of my bra. My breasts tumble out, and I almost shudder as he moves quickly, taking a nipple into his mouth, swiping his tongue across before sucking.

“Ohhhh…” I moan, my head falling backwards, eyes closed, feeling his hard length pushing against my throbbing pussy. I hear him growl, the rumble from his chest turning me on even more as he sucks my skin, pushing my breasts together, his fingers digging in, his tongue and mouth giving both nipples attention.

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