Page 58 of Wrong Number. Right Don.
It’s not an outright lie, even if it’s not fully the truth.
In lieu of a response, she circles the desk, her gaze wicked. She doesn’t ask what’s bothering me, doesn’t press. Instead, she stops behind me and slides her hands gently over my shoulders.
I tense at first, unused to this kind of easy intimacy. Her fingers begin to knead into the tight muscles beneath my shirt, her thumbs working the knots with practiced, careful pressure. I exhale through my nose, trying to resist how good it feels. So damn good.
She leans down, lips brushing the shell of my ear, voice warm and wicked. “You’re carrying the weight of the world up here,” she says, working out a knot.
“Feels like it lately.” I sigh, already melting under her fingers.
Her hands drift lower, slower, until they reach the spot where my neck meets my shoulder. My eyes slide shut as her hands work with a practiced ease. She’s a pro at this. When my mother’s well, I might pay her to stay on as my personal masseuse. Anything to keep her here.
“I could help,” she whispers.
“You are helping,” I moan, leaning further into her touch.
“You know what I mean,” she murmurs, her voice low, as one hand glides over my chest and drifts lower.
The air thickens between us.
I turn slightly in my chair, just enough to see her eyes. Her lips are inches from mine, her breath feathering across my skin. My self-control, which is already hanging by a thread, snaps clean in two when her hand stops just inches from my already hardening cock.
“If you don’t stop touching me like this,” I murmur, almost breathless, “I might have to bend you over this desk.”
She doesn’t flinch or even blush. Instead, she leans in, brushing her mouth like a feather against my skin. “I’m not going to stop you,” she whispers, the words a shaky moan.
Fuck. She’s devastatingly sexy when she’s confident like this. It makes me want her even more than I already do, which is already a lot.
My hand wraps around her wrist and I pull her into my lap in one fluid movement. She gasps softly, straddling me as her dress rides up, exposing the warm, bare skin of her thighs.
I lock my arms around her waist, my mouth brushing the edge of her jaw.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Nicole,” I murmur against her skin.
“And you’re not stopping me.”
I drag my lips down her throat, pausing over the racing pulse in her neck.
“Tell me to stop,” I growl, silently praying she won’t.
“No,” she gasps, her hands wrapping around my neck and holding on for dear life.
That one word undoes me. Her fingers tangle in my hair as I kiss her, deep and possessive, my hands gripping her hips so hard I might leave bruises. She doesn’t complain or pull away, though. She leans in more, her tongue tangling with mine for dominance.
In one fluid motion, I stand, her legs locking around my waist, and set her on top of the desk. I savor the way she looks at me, her eyes dark and lips parted in anticipation.
“You drive me insane,” I whisper, tugging her body closer. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”
“I think I have a pretty good idea,” she answers, her eyes glued to my hard-on.
She bites her lower lip as I trail a hand down her side, lingering at the dip of her waist. Her body fits against mine like it was made for this. For me.
I lean in, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Last chance to back out,” I tell her.
Nicole turns her head, capturing my mouth in a kiss that steals the last of the oxygen from the room.
Looks like I’m going to fuck her on top of my desk after all.
24
