Page 67 of For the Plot
My hand brushes hers as I take the card. Skin to skin. Fucking electric. I slide the card. The light turns green. Click.
The door swings open. She steps inside first and pauses.
She turns to look at me over her shoulder. Like an invitation. Like a dare.
So I take it… and step inside. And everything goes quiet. The door shuts behind me with a heavy finality. Like the start of a storm.
I take one step toward her.
Then another.
Her back hits the wall just inside the door, and I’m in front of her in half a heartbeat, caging her in with my arms, my handsbraced on either side of her head, my mouth hovering just inches from hers.
Her chest rises, then falls. Her lips part. And I don’t wait. I crash into her like I’ve been holding back a lifetime.
Her gasp is muffled against my mouth. Her fingers curl into my shirt, dragging me closer, grinding her body against mine like she needs me inside her right now or she’ll die from the ache.
I kiss her hard. Deep. Filthy.
My hands slide down to her neck, shoulders, waist—until I find the curve of her ass and squeeze, pulling her up into me so she can feel exactly what she’s done to me.
She moans, soft and desperate.
I pull back just enough to whisper, “You like teasing your boss, sweetheart?”
Her eyes are glassy. Lips kiss-bruised. “You’re not my boss right now.”
“Damn right I’m not.”
My mouth is back on hers before she can say another word. Her kiss is wild, untamed and hungry. God, she tastes like wine and want and every fucking dream I haven’t let myself have in years.
My hands tighten on her ass as I drag her hips against mine. She gasps when she feels how hard I am. I don’t hold back. I grind into her, slow and deliberate, letting her feel every inch of what she’s about to get.
Her hands slide up my chest, fisting in my shirt. “Reece?—”
I bite her lower lip. Not hard. Just enough to make her gasp again. “You wanted to know what I missed?” I confess against her mouth. “It’s this.”
I reach down and tug her thigh up over my hip, pinning her to the wall.
“Missed having a woman melt for me,” I growl. “Missed the feel of soaking wet panties grinding against my cock because she’s so turned on she’s already weeping for me. Missed fucking control.”
Her breath catches, ragged and uneven.
“You’re soaked,” I say, dragging my fingers up the inside of her thigh until I find the edge of her panties. “All that confidence at dinner, all that attitude, and look at you. You’re trembling for me now.”
She grips my shoulders like she’s afraid her knees won’t hold.
“Do you want me to stop?” I ask, voice low and brutal. “Tell me now.”
She shakes her head.
“That’s not a word.”
“No,” she whispers. “Don’t stop.”
My fingers slide beneath her panties. Fuck, she’s drenched. I growl low in my throat, pushing two fingers into her, slow and deep.
Her head falls back against the wall with a thud.
