“You know the first.”
I laughed, some of the tension draining out of me. “She had me all the way fucked up. Calling you from jail. And calling me. She has no right to even speak your name, let alone call you. She’s done enough.”
“Come here.”
“DaVinci, the movie.”
“Halo. Come here.”
I walked over to him, and he picked me up and put me on top of his desk with a look of yearning in his eyes.
“You just went off on her for me,” he said, his hands resting on my thighs.
“She deserved it, and if you do what I think you are about to do, we will miss the matinee.”
“You defended me. Claimed me. Threatened her. I can’t celebrate that?”
“Of course I did. She doesn’t get to keep harassing you. I’m not playing that.” I cupped his face. “You’re my responsibility as much as I am yours. I got your back.”
His eyes got darker. “Say that again.”
“What?”
“All of it.”
“You’re my responsibility as much as I am yours. I got your back,” I said firmly, looking him dead in the eye. “And I don’t share. Ever. I got kicked out of school in eighth grade for fighting.”
He leaned in kissing me like I’d just given him everything he’d ever wanted. Deep, possessive, and grateful all at once.
When we finally broke apart, he was smiling.
“I bet you did, Laila Ali. You just made my whole week. Shit, maybe the year,” he said, hands roaming up my legs. The warm sensation caused me to shiver. I already knew what time it was, and I’d rather watch him cover my lower lips with his than a matinee any day.
He grinned, that slow, daring grin that made my knees weak and my thoughts scatter. His hands were already sliding up my thighs, thumbs tracing the edge of my thong before pulling it off slowly. He was testing my patience. It was so fucking hot in this office, I was surprised the fire alarm wasn’t going off.
“Let’s skip the matinee,” he murmured against the inside of my thigh. “I got a better show right here.”
“You stole my panties last time. I need those back.”
“No can do, baby.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but the words melted somewhere between his tongue sucking and snaking up my skin. He stood up and captured my lips. The kiss deepened, rougher now, a moan escaped my lips, and I didn’t even try to be shy about it. Every bit of defiance, every ounce of pride was gone. My back met the desk, I shivered when his hands slipped under my sweater to toy with my nipples.
“DaVinci,” I whispered, not really to stop him—more like to remind myself where I was. “We can’t—”
He looked up, eyes low and hungry. “We can if you tell me to. This is my shit, baby. I can do what I want, whenever I want. And right now, I wanna taste that sweet pussy of yours. Then I wanna take you to a movie, eat popcorn, and share a Coke, on some corny shit. What’s up?”
I went quiet when he said that. He always let me choose, but his eyes hit me with this mix of softness and heat that wiped my whole mind clean.
I nodded, and that was all he needed to handle the ache between my thighs. His mouth was back on me, tracing from my lips to my collarbone, then lower, finding the soft dip where my skin warmed under his breath. Every kiss soft, every touch exhilarating. When his hand slid between my thighs, I gasped and grabbed the edge of the desk, trying to catch myself.
“You smell different, Angel. What is it?”
“You are so obsessed with me.”
“I am, no denying that.”
“This is Halo Moon and Daisy by Marc Jacobs. I wanted to try something different.”
