Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
I break our kiss and step away.
She freezes and looks at me like I just punched her. “What?” she asks.
Why did I stop things? I want her. She clearly wants me. Why am I holding back?
“I want to take you to dinner,” I say.
“Great,” she says like I just asked her to print off a copy of the rug quote. “Can we get naked already?”
“Here?” I ask and glance up and around.
“Are you shy?” She glances up at the dramatic chandelier above us. “Or romantic? You prefer candlelight and Bach playing softly in the background?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been accused of being romantic.” I don’t add the silent “but” echoing in my head.
“Your bedroom?” she suggests.
What’s been building between us hasn’t moved for so long and now it’s going too fast. I want to slow it all down and figure things out. She steps forward and burrows her finger between the buttons of my shirt, finding my skin and adding fuel to the fuse of my desire for her.
“Kate,” I growl.
She tilts her head. “Or here?” She takes a step back and slides onto her desk.
If I fuck her here, I’ll never be able to concentrate in the office again.
But I have to fuck her.
Right now.
I grab her hand and pull her off the desk and out of the office.
My bedroom it is.
TWENTY-ONE
Kate
It’s like my body disconnects from my brain whenever he’s around. I’ve tried so hard to stay professional. To not want him. Given I’m in his bedroom, his hands on my bottom, my skin buzzing from being so close to him, I’d say I’ve officially lost the fight.
“I’ve tried so hard to stay away from you,” he says, hitching up my skirt, pressing me into the door behind me. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“I know,” I say, my fingers fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. “We just need to get it out of our systems.” At least I hope that’s what this is—just some kind of chemical misfire that will right itself after an orgasm. Or maybe two.
His skin is hot and tight and my stomach swoops at the feel of him and the thought that we’re minutes away from being pressed against each other.
He dips and presses kisses to my neck. The scrape of his five o’clock shadow is like the scrape of a match against the strip, igniting my lust. Why have we wasted so much time trying to avoid each other when we could have been doing this all along?
I press my hands flat against his chest, and he tips his head back and sucks in a breath like just the touch of my hand has the potential to send him over the edge if he doesn’t steady himself.
What is it with this man?
Is it him? Or us together that seems to be so explosive?
“You need to be naked,” he barks and brushes my hands away. He fiddles with the buttons on my blouse and then growls before simply ripping the fabric apart, then pulling off by bra.
I’ve seen it happen in movies, but no man I’ve ever been with has been so desperate to get me naked that he’s ripped my clothing. It’s even hotter in real life—maybe because I can see the tendons in his neck tighten with effort, and the heat in his eyes. He wants me. Badly. It all notches up my desire and when his hands cup my breasts, I can do nothing but whimper.
It’s as if the noise pours a bucket of cold water over him and unexpectedly he takes a step back.
“What?” I ask as if yanked from a deep sleep.
He shrugs off his shirt. “Not like this,” he says, discarding his shirt behind him and pushing his hands through his hair. “I want to take my time. I want to be fully conscious. I want you to know exactly what I’m doing.”
“I’m conscious,” I say. Is he stopping this? Because I’m going to be extremely pissed off if I’m orgasm-free when I leave this room.
He puts his hands on my hips and it’s relief I feel at his touch. He turns me around and for a moment, I think I’m about to feel him between my thighs, when he unzips my skirt and pushes it to the ground.
“I want to see all of you. I don’t want to fuck like animals—even though that’s exactly what my body is telling me I need right now. If we’re doing this, then it’s not some quick fuck. It’s going to be the best sex you’ve ever had—that I’ve ever had.”
I turn around and stroke my hand down his face. “It already is.” He closes his eyes and presses a kiss to the inside of my wrist. “I’m not sure if I should have given you formal feedback after the first time—happy to fill in an online questionnaire this time—but for the record, you touching me is better than anything I’ve ever felt before. Your kisses, the way you understand my body, everything. It’s all better than anything I’ve ever experienced.”