I pull back just enough to breathe. Her eyes are still closed.
“Better?” I ask.
She opens them. They are wide and serious. “Don’t stop.”
I kiss her again, and this is not careful. I tilt my head, fit her mouth to mine, and slide my tongue against hers. She meets it, a slow, deliberate matching. Her hand slides from my shoulder to the back of my neck, fingers pressing into my skin, and I move, shifting her closer.
A soft gasp against my lips, and I can feel the rapid beat of her heart through her dress. She smells like clean things and the faint trace of perfume that’s been driving me crazy since the elevator doors closed.
I break the kiss, drag my mouth along her jaw, pressing a kiss to the soft spot just below her ear. Her breath hitches. Her nails dig lightly into my neck.
“Roberto,” she says, a plea or a prayer.
"We have to stop," I say against her skin.
She kisses me this time. Harder. No pretense. This time, she’s the one who pushes her tongue into my mouth, and I meet it, tasting coffeeand a faint sweetness.
I pull her closer, one hand firm at her waist, the other sliding into her hair, feeling the soft strands wrap around my fingers.
She makes a soft, frustrated noise, then her hands are moving, exploring my arms, my shoulders, sliding down my chest. One finds its way to my face, her thumb stroking my jawline. I turn my head and kiss her palm. Her breath catches.
I move back, just enough to see her face. The light washes over us both, and she looks wrecked and beautiful, her lips swollen, her cheeks flushed. I want her in a way that’s inconvenient and immediate and a very, very bad idea.
Chapter Nine
Olivia
I watch Roberto’s face in the dim light. He is breathing just as hard as I am, and I want to touch the hard line of his jaw, the pulse I can see beating in his throat.
He is still holding my hand. His thumb stroking the inside of my wrist.
“Olivia,” he says again, and my name sounds different in his mouth.
I know I should stop this. I know he’s my boss. I know we’re stuck in an elevator in the dark. But I also know that if this car started moving right now and the doors opened, I would be so, so disappointed.
I lean in again. I kiss the corner of his mouth, then along the line of his jaw, feeling the scrape of his stubble against my lips. His breath shudders out, a hot rush against my ear.
His hands go around my waist and down to my ass, lifting me onto his legs. My skirt is bunched around my hips, and the wool of his trousers is rough against the sensitive skin of my thighs.
The fabric of my panties is thin, and I can feel the hard press of him through our clothes. I rock my hips against him, and he groans, a low, rough sound.
“Olivia.” My name is a warning.
I ignore it. I lean back, my hands on his shoulders for balance, and look at him. His eyes are dark, fixed on my face. I reach for the buttons of my shirt, my fingers fumbling with the tiny, mother-of-pearl discs.
His hands cover mine. “Let me.”
His fingers are long and sure, and he makes quick work of the buttons. He pushes the fabric aside, exposing the simple white lace of my bra.
He looks at me for a long moment, then lowers his head and presses a kiss to the swell of my breast above the lace. I shiver, my head falling back.
His hands come up to cup my breasts, his thumbs brushing over my nipples, hard and aching beneath the lace. I arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping my lips.
He kisses me again, hard and deep, and I return it just as fiercely. My hands are in his hair, holding him to me.
He slides one strap of my bra down my shoulder, then the other. He reaches behind me, and with a practiced flick of his fingers, the clasp releases. He pulls the lace away, and the cool air raises goosebumps on my skin.
His gaze is heated, intense. He looks at me like he’s trying to memorize the lines of my body.
