Page 37 of Slap Shot
"For now." Oliver was already implementing additional safeguards. "They'll be back, probably with different approaches."
They were sitting close together, adrenaline still humming from the digital battle they'd just fought. The air between them was charged with shared intensity and the relief of having solved the immediate crisis.
"I've been wanting to do this all day," she said, her hand reaching for his.
"Do what?"
"Touch you. Be close to you without pretending we're nothing to each other."
When she kissed him, it was with all the desperation of their situation, stolen moments, hidden feelings, the constant risk of discovery.
"God, I've missed this," he said against her mouth, pulling her closer.
"It's been twelve hours," she pointed out, but her voice was breathless.
"Twelve hours too long."
He lifted her to sit on the edge of her desk, papers scattering to the floor as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Even through layers of fabric, he could feel her heat radiating against him, and it made his cock twitch with want.
"We shouldn't," she whispered, even as her hands worked at his shirt buttons. "Anyone could—"
"No one's here," he said, his mouth finding the sensitive spot on her neck that made her shiver every time. "Building's empty except for security, and they don't patrol this floor on weekends."
Her pulse fluttered beneath his lips as he sucked gently at her throat. "How do you know that?"
"I may have done some reconnaissance." His hands found the hem of her blouse, fingers trailing over the soft skin of her stomach. "Had to know when it was safe to have you like this."
"You romantic," she teased, but her voice caught when his fingers skimmed higher, brushing just beneath her bra.
"Romantic enough to plan ahead so I can fuck you properly." The crude words made her gasp, and he smiled against her neck. "I've been thinking about bending you over this desk since the moment I walked in here."
"Oliver," she breathed, her hands fisting in his hair as he continued his assault on her throat.
"Tell me what you want," he said, pulling back to look at her. Her lips were already swollen from his kisses, her pupils dilated with want. "Tell me how you've been thinking about me."
"I want your mouth on me," she said, surprising them both with her boldness. "I want you to make me come with your tongue while I try not to scream your name."
The confession sent heat straight to his groin. "Fuck, Heather. The things you do to me."
His hands made quick work of her blouse buttons, revealing the lacy black bra underneath. "New lingerie?" he asked, running his thumb over the delicate fabric.
"I may have done some planning of my own," she admitted, her cheeks flushing pink.
"Christ, you're going to kill me." He unhooked the clasp with practiced ease, groaning when her breasts spilled free. "So fucking beautiful."
Instead of taking her nipple into his mouth like he had before, Oliver traced circles around the tight peak with his tongue, making her arch and whimper with frustration.
"Please," she gasped, trying to guide his head closer.
"Please what?" He blew cool air across the wet trail he'd left, making her shudder. "Use your words, sweetheart."
"Suck on my nipples," she said desperately. "God, Oliver, stop teasing me."
He complied with a growl, drawing the tight peak into his mouth and sucking hard. Heather's back bowed off the desk, a broken moan escaping before she could stop it.
"Quiet," he reminded her, switching to lavish attention on her other breast. "Unless you want security to find us like this."
"Then stop making me feel so good," she panted, her hands roaming over his shoulders and chest.
