“That’s it, sweetheart. Come for me.” He plucked my clit.
That was all it took. My body went taut, and I cried out as bliss overwhelmed me. But he kept going, adding a finger inside me as he played my clit like a guitar. I’d seen Carlos Santana in concert once, and Cole Campion might be almost as skilled withhis fingers. He strummed me to an even higher peak that caused a tear to trickle down my cheek.
He eased me onto my back, and as I brushed the hair off my sweaty face, I heard a crinkle of foil. I opened my eyes to find Cole rolling on a condom.
“Where did that come from?” I asked.
“Bedside table.” He positioned himself between my legs.
“I keep my condoms in the bathroom.”
“This one’s mine.” He pushed inside.
“You…” I had just enough functional brain cells to say, “You put a condom on the bedside table last night so you could fuck me this morning?”
“What can I say?” He thrust again. “Strategic thinking is my strength.”
When he lifted my legs to his shoulders and went deep inside me, thoughts and words disappeared. I couldn’t be rational around him. We had to stop doing this.
After one more orgasm.
I let myself float on a decadent wave of sensation as he rocked in and out of me, a furrow of concentration between his eyebrows. Cole was single-minded about everything he did.It was what made his performance so superior. He paid attention to details like the sounds I made, my expressions, and the way my breathing hitched when he movedjust like that.
He didn’t have to touch my clit this time. His dick hit the sensitized spot inside me, and I came again, soaring out of my body for a moment to an astral plane where we weren’t coworkers or adversaries but two bodies designed to give each other pleasure.
When I came back to myself, he was lying next to me.
“Fuck.” He sounded out of breath. “I could wake up like this every day.”
“Yeah.”If only.
He rolled toward me and kissed my neck. “I knew this was good for us.”
Realization was a hard slap across the face. “This isn’t good for us.” I scooted out of reach and tugged my sleep tee down over my thighs. “We have to work together.”
“And now that we’ve resolved the sexual tension, we’ll work even better together.”
“Will we?”
“Sure,” he said. “Think of it as a release of pressure, like a minor volcanic eruption. It doesn’t have to be any more than that.”
“Volcanoes can be dangerous. I remember that from our hike.”
He traced the hem of my sleep shirt. “Minor eruptions of ash relieve the pressure and prevent more destructive events. We’re much less likely to have another shouting match in the office now that we’ve released all that cortisol.”
“So you’re saying Stan will be happy?”
His finger stopped its progress. “Probably better that we don’t mention this to Stan.”
“We tellno one.”
“No one,” he agreed.
“Not even our families or friends.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Of course not. Because we agreed we won’t do this again.”
“Right.” But my stomach was cold. Having sex with Cole once was dangerous, and we’d done it a dozen times over the last few days. What would happen if anyone at work found out?
