She doesn't say my name this time. She just tips her head back in invitation.
My answer is to turn us, to press her back against the hard wood of her office door. The movement is quick, possessive. Her back hits the door with a soft thud. I cage her in with my body, my hands on the door on either side of her head.
I'm a predator who has cornered his prey.
Her eyes darken with desire and a hint of fear. It speaks to the most primal part of me. The part that revels in this power, in this control.
But the other part of me. The part that I'm trying so hard to ignore. That part wants to protect her. From me.
My hands remain on the door. I don't touch her. I don't move.
Her hands, which had been on my chest, are now at her sides. Her knuckles are white where she grips the hem of her sweater. Her breathing is shallow.
My gaze drops to her throat. To the delicate, vulnerable skin begging for my teeth. To the pulse that beats a frantic rhythm there. A primal, protective instinct rises in me, so strong it almost chokes me.
I want to mark her. Toclaim her.
But I won't.
I lean in, my lips brushing against her ear.
"Don't move," I whisper.
My hands stay on the door, a cage of her own making.
My lips leave her ear and trail a path down her jawline. I'm testing her. Testing myself. Her breath hitches. Her hands remain at her sides.
My lips find the soft skin of her throat. I don't kiss her there. Not yet. I just let my breath warm her skin. A promise.
Her head falls back against the door, her eyes closed. Surrender. Submission.
My blood roars under my skin, in my ears.
I press a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the place where her pulse beats a frantic rhythm. She shivers, a full-body tremor that she can't control. A soft moan escapes her lips.
My control is a frayed thread. A thin, fragile thing that could snap at any moment.
I straighten up, pulling away from her. Just enough to look into her eyes.
Her eyes flutter open. They're hazy with desire. Confused.
"My name," I say, my voice low and rough. "Say it."
Her lips part, but no sound comes out. She swallows, trying to find her voice.
I don't tell her again, just watch until finally, she manages to say, "Roberto." It's a breathy, pleading sound.
The thin thread of my control snaps.
I close the small distance between us, crushing my lips to hers. This isn't a test. This isn't a question. This is a declaration.
My hands leave the door and are on her in an instant. One tangling in her hair, the other sliding under the hem of her sweater to find the warm, smooth skin of her back.
Her response is immediate and passionate. Her arms wrap around my neck, her fingers tangling in my hair. Her kiss is as desperate as mine.
I walk us back, away from the door, towards the large oak desk that dominates the room. Her back hits the edge of the desk, and she gasps into my mouth.
I break the kiss, my hands gripping her hips. I lift her onto the desk, the papers scattering to the floor. She doesn't seem to notice.
