I cradle his jaw in my palm and force his face up to meet mine. I move in close enough to run my tongue along his lower lip, licking away every trace of myself from his mouth. His eyes darken to molten silver as I take my time, unhurried, and let him feel every inch of space disappear between us before I part his lips with my tongue.
I need to know if that kiss in the elevator last night hit that hard because our connection is as real now as it’s ever been, or if it’s just the echo of what we once were. And the second he starts kissing me back, as soon as his hands grip my hair and his mouth turns more demanding and urgent, I have my answer.
With him, it’s always fireworks.
Always too much and never enough.
I break the kiss just to breathe, just for a second, and he keeps his eyes closed like he’s still living in it.
“You kissed me,” he whispers.
I try to play it cool, even though my pulse is hammering in my throat. “It was a thank-you for making my morning a little better, though now I’m probably going to have to walk around without underwear for the rest of the day.”
“Liar, you kissed me because you felt it. Same as I did. The second our mouths touched again, you remembered.” He looks down between my legs, then gently covers me back up, smoothing my skirt down. “I did try to keep your panties dry, but clearly that’s impossible when it comes to us.”
He reaches behind him, pulls something from his back pocket, and presses it into my palm.
“You’re shitting me.”
Black lace.
My black lace.
“You stole these?”
“Borrowed,” he corrects, completely unapologetic. “Figured I should be prepared, so now you don’t have to walk around the office with anyone being able to smell how delicious your pussy is.”
He leans in, pressing a slow kiss to the inside of my knee. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m a little possessive.”
“You? Possessive?” I tilt my head in faux shock. “Wow. Hadn’t noticed.”
“Funny girl,” he mutters as he stands, all six-foot-whatever of him towering over me. “Put them on.”
I rise from the chair slowly, my thighs still slick as I wriggle out of the ruined pair that hit the floor, and I don’t miss the way his eyes track them. The lace he gave me is warm from being in his pocket, and when I slide it up my thighs and smooth down my skirt, I try to gather what’s left of my composure.
Professional.
Put together.
Not freshly finger-fucked during a work call.
But I barely catch my breath before he’s behind me. Phoenix presses in, his chest flush against my back, his body heat wrapping around me like a cage. I don’t tense. I probably should, but I don’t. My body already knows him—his touch, his scent, the way everything in me softens when he’s near, as if I’m finally where I’m supposed to be. His hands settle on my waist, his mouth finds the curve of my shoulder, and I swear I feel the kiss all the way down my spine.
“I hated leaving you last night.”
“Thank you for giving me time… Last night was a lot.”
“I know.” His lips ghost over my skin. “You must’ve been exhausted. You slept so beautifully.”
I guess I’m just ignoring the fact that he was either in my apartment or watching me through those cameras like it’s normal, and this is just what we do now.
“You can’t go to James’s.”
I don’t like how he says it or the way it digs into the part of me that still wants to believe I have control over my own life, and he knows it.
“Don’t,” he warns, as if he can feel my thoughts start to shift. “Don’t pull away—not even in your head. You know what I told you. And you know there’s something off about it, or you wouldn’t be standing here letting me hold you. You’d be telling me to go fuck myself.”
“It’s just business, Phoenix.”
