Page 62 of Love at First Sighting
“You,” I breathe. “You and your dumb little hat and suspenders.”
There’s a cold shock of his watch on my lower stomach as he finds my clit and dips his fingers into me so slowly I could catch fire.
“Carter,” I gasp. I grip his hair tightly enough it should hurt him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “Oh my god. Jesus.”
“Don’t bring him into this.” His voice is a thoughtless, sex-drunk command. “Not as my hand’s between your legs. Not as I’m trying to make you come. Fuck. You feel amazing.”
Moments later, he groans along my jaw. “Tell me how good it feels.”
But I can’t form words. Carter applies pressure exactly where I want him most, making me lean back and dig my nails into the edge of his desk. I can’t hang on any longer, so I let myself succumb to him. I shudder around his fingers and a cord snaps inside me, but Carter’s there to catch me.
My breaths are heavy and labored, but I’m not alone. His heart beats with a fury, too. He traces my bottom lip with his thumb and smirks.
“Good girl.” He uses his free hand to undo the straps on my heels and kisses the shell of my ear. “Show me what comes next.”
I move down to his button and undo it, unzippering his slacks.
“Fuck,” he says softly as my hands work to the inside of his boxer briefs. He rests a hand on the side of my stomach, wincing as I curl my fingers around him, as if he’s in pain, but I know by the sharp upticks in his breath that even if he is, this is the kind he welcomes.
There’s something in the way he touches me—maybe the soft kisses at the side of my head or the way his arms wrap around me like it matters if I stray from him—that is undeniably real. For the first time, I think someone might care enough to like the real me.
For the first time, I want to let him try.
I kiss the curved scar beside his eye, but he halts me. He turns my chin with a single finger, drawing me into a commanding kiss.
“After tonight, I don’t want to look at this desk and think of anything but you spread out on it. These perfectly painted nails leaving marks in the wood.” He laces our fingers together. “Leave your mark on whatever you want.”
“Be careful what you wish for,” I tease. Carter digs into his wallet and manifests a single condom, then tears the foil open. The only sounds are our heavy breathing, the ticking of the old clock behind us, and the pattering rain outside. Once Carter’s eased the condom onto himself, he reaches for my hips again, finding the lace of my underwear and sliding them down my legs.
I lure him into another kiss as he slides into me in one fluid stroke. The gasp he lets out is enough to get high off of. Carter drags my hands up his body, silently instructing me tograb his hair again with one and use the other for balance as he rocks his hips into mine.
Each thrust sends a flood of ecstasy through my blood, and it’s all hypnotic—the fervent moans he lets out, the creak of his desk as he picks up speed. I kiss him again and again and again, only stopping for breaths and unrestrained cries.
I am not responsible for what sounds come out of me, the harsh gasps, and I rake scratches into his pressed button-down.
“I can feel how close you are.” His voice becomes desperate and ragged. “Let me get you there again.”
I put my trust in him as he shoves papers and pens off his desk. There are a few clatters and flutters of pages, but he gently rests my head on the wooden surface of his desk and tilts my hips up.
Carter holds my waist, keeping me in place as he pushes me closer and closer to another tipping point. No one’s ever felt like this before. Every touch feels steeped in care. He wants us both to remember this. He has sex like he wants me to come back for seconds.
I plan to.
Then more than that.
I grip his desk as the first wave of an orgasm rides through me. My legs hook around his waist, fingers drifting beneath the fabric of his button-down and undershirt. It’s a touch of skin I’ve never gotten before and I want so much more. He comes with a sharp, slack-jawed groan, fingers weaving with mine at his sides. Neither of us are able to move yet, then he pulls out and leans over the desk to kiss me.
He makes sure I understand that this meant something. He’s soft and nurturing and I never want him to stop. Onekiss turns into another, and then it feels like losing each other’s touch would kill us both. He only stops after my head bumps into his keyboard and the computer makes an error noise. Carter collapses with a laugh into the crook of my neck before he backs away, carefully removes the condom, and hunts for my underwear. Just as simply as he took them off, he slides them back up my legs and helps me off the desk.
We’ve marked each other so well here. My lip gloss paints pictures of what I’ve done to him along his neck and on the collar of his shirt. I’m sure the shape of his grip is fading now, but I feel his phantom hands on my waist, and every silent moment between us will be filled with the memories of his groans and the way his words whittled away all of my composure.
Before I can get too far away so I can clean up, his arms sweep around my waist and he reels me in to him. This time, it’s slow. He kisses me like he’s falling asleep, with his hands cupping my jaw and brushes of lips so light, so careless, because he doesn’t have to think. Neither do I.
“You don’t always welcome people to the office like that, right?”
He shakes his head. “No. Just the special ones.”
Chapter 18
