Page 11 of Rival Desires

I nodded, my eyes squeezed shut as he worked his finger in and out of me. “Please,” I moaned, begging for more.

And then, without warning, I felt the blunt head of his cock nudging at my entrance. I tilted my hips, eager to feel him stretch me once again. He didn’t disappoint, pushing his way inside with a slow, deliberate pace that had me biting my lip to keep from crying out. My leg muscles were quivering when he was fully seated, and I wondered if they’d hold me up through this.

As if he could read my mind, he wrapped an arm around my waist, holding me steady as he pulled out almost all the way before driving back in. Each thrust pushed me up on my toes, filling me to the brim. I wasn’t sure how much more I could take, but my body seemed to rise to the challenge, accepting every inch as if it was meant to be there.

I opened my eyes, finding him in the mirror’s reflection and holding his gaze. The sound of someone nearby snapped us both back to reality, and he picked up the pace, slamming into me with a force that stole my breath away. The pressure inside me built, and I felt his rhythm falter, but I wasn’t quite there yet. I was about to take matters into my own hands when he leaned closer and whispered in my ear, “Be a good girl and come for me.”

His teeth gave my earlobe just the right nip, and that was all it took. I was a goner. I slapped a hand over my mouth to muffle the whoops of delight as pleasure surged through me, but my handsome partner didn’t bother hiding anything. He let out a groan that I felt rumble. His arm around me tightened, and we stayed there, locked together in the most intimate of dances, for what felt like forever.

With great reluctance, we pried ourselves apart and started the process of getting dressed. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from me. “What kind of dark magic are you working that I can’t seem to resist you, even in a lingerie store in the middle of the day?” His eyes twinkled with mischief. “I don’t even know your name yet, and I’m already planning on parading down the street with messy hair just to have you alone again. Let me introduce myself. Hi, I’m Cory.”

A delightful rush washed over me, and I just had to swipe one more delectable kiss while standing on my tippy toes. “Rylee,” I said with a cheeky grin, giving his luscious lower lip a playful nibble. “Rylee Palmer, your very own enchantress extraordinaire.”

He returned my smile in that teasing moment, but then he froze as my name sank in. As I leaned back, I saw a whirlwind of emotions flit across his face - disbelief, consternation, and shock, all flashing by in a heartbeat in those mesmerizing sea-glass eyes. His hands weighed heavily on my shoulders, and I could practically hear the proverbial penny drop from where I stood.

“Palmer,” he echoed slowly after an awkward pause. “As in, Rylee Palmer, CEO of Palmer Money Management?”

I scooted back, slipping out of his hold, and hugged myself tight. I felt utterly exposed under the unforgiving glare of the dressing room lights and his piercing gaze. The passionate haze had dissipated, leaving me with a clearer view. Details I’d previously missed now jumped out at me – his impeccably styled haircut, the glint of an absurdly pricey watch peeking out from under his shirt cuff. Subtle yet unmistakable signs of wealth, success, and familiarity.

My playful prince morphed right before my eyes into someone entirely different. Someone I recognized all too well, unfortunately. I’d spent countless hours strategizing how to outmaneuver and outshine the competition he represented.

“You’re Cory McCrae,” I blurted out as the lightbulb flickered on. His handsome mug shifted into a grimace, and I could practically see the gears turning in his head. “As in, Gracen and McCrae.”

We stood there for what felt like an eternity, locked in a staring contest that could have frozen hell over, and the air between us turned frosty. “Well, shit. Of all the rotten luck...”

Cory—the guy who’d just taken me to the moon and back, with his smoldering eyes and irresistible charm—looked like a deer caught in headlights. He half-raised a hand as if to reach out to me but then thought better of it. The tension radiating off him was obvious.

“Rylee, I...maybe we should talk about this...?” he stammered, his voice barely audible over the deafening silence.

But my tongue was twisty, like a pretzel, leaving me mute. In a frantic scramble, I snatched up my clothes, grabbed my purse from the bench, and made a beeline for another dressing room.The door hinges squeaked in protest as I barreled past him, doing my best to dodge his eyes like they were landmines.

Tears bubbled up in my eyes, blurring my view and streaming down my face. I didn’t even bother trying to rein them in as I threw on my clothes and hightailed it out of there, eager to put some miles between me and Cory. The chilly, harsh reality of those four tiny letters left me feeling like a fish out of water.

Cory, as in Cory McCrae. The McCrae of Gracen & McCrae.

Oh, for the love of God. This was going to be one fucking mess.

SEVEN

Cory

Rylee flashed me a grin as she introduced herself, and for a moment, time stood still as my brain struggled to catch up with who she was - Rylee Palmer, our new rival who’d been swiping clients left and right. Then, before we could talk, she was gone, leaving me alone in the dressing room with only her business card as evidence. It must’ve slipped out of her purse during her hasty exit.

There I stood, gaping at her card like a clueless pup, rubbing my head in total confusion. Fury and I had hit a brick wall trying to find any scrap of info on Rylee Palmer - no photos, no breadcrumbs. Clearly, we’d been way off base with the spelling. We’d been looking for “Riley” instead of “Rylee.” And that dude, I thought, was Rylee Palmer? He must’ve been one of her new associates.

I was sure her initial shock was nothing but a well-rehearsed act. As my rival, she had to know who I was. Fury and I aren’t exactly living in the shadows. Stanford grads; still hanging around Palo Alto plastering our faces all over our company’s website andwhatnot. There was no chance she wouldn’t recognize me, right? And the way she kept her identity on the down-low, insisting on keeping our encounters incognito and mysterious, it was all just a sneaky setup.

She was fucking with me in the most literal sense possible. She wanted to throw a wrench in my focus and then waltz in and swipe our clients.

Ugh, I fell for it, hook, line, and sinker! One too many glasses of bubbly at some fancy-schmancy gala, and she pounced like a hawk on a defenseless bunny. One thing led to another, and before I knew it, we were going at it like rabbits in my car. Then, wouldn’t ya know it, I run into her at the grocery store, and I think, “Hey, maybe the universe is giving me a sign.” I could chat her up without my usual jitters taking over. For a fleeting moment, I thought she saw the real me - the man behind the awkward shyness - and liked me.

How stupid does one have to be not to see that, obviously? I was just her mark.

The rest of my weekend?Let’s just say it was about as much fun as having a root canal.

My past flings had always been simple, no-strings-attached deals. We would have some fun and games; then we’d wave goodbye, forget about it, and never look back. Okay, maybe not completely forget about it, but you get the idea. But Rylee, she was something else. She was like a breath of fresh air...until the moment I realized who she actually was.

So, there I was on Monday, driving to work with my jaw clenched tighter than a pit bull with a new chew toy. It was a dead giveaway that I was more wrapped up in this Rylee mess than I cared to admit. To loosen those knots a bit, I made a pit stop at a cozy café, snagging a couple of buttery croissants and two cups of piping hot coffee. If I was going to drop this bombshell on Fury, I figured it was best to show up with some peace offerings - namely, his favorite breakfast treat.

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