She pulls her mouth away, hands still cradling my skull, navy-blue eyes searching my face. Waiting for me to stop her. Waiting for me to be the responsible one here.
Fuck it.
I’m tired of being responsible. I want to be selfish. And I’m certain, this is what I want.She’swho I want. Fighting with her already has me ready to combust, and for just once, I want to do the wrong thing.
“Did you lock the door?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Are there any cameras in here?”
I’ve never wondered until now. Never cared either.
This mischievous smile tilts on her lips.
“What’s that look for?”
“Wouldn’t that be fun to watch? A little gym porno.”
“Jesus,” I exhale. “Fancy Reese Remington sounds real good saying things like ‘porno.’”
“I’m not always fancy, you know. I can get dirty too.”
I hum at the thought, running my fingertips languidly down the column of her spine. “I can’t fuck you in the gym, Reese.”
Partly because she deserves better than that, and partly because I’m scared she’d regret it tomorrow. I couldn’t handle it if this woman looked at me with regret. I like her too much. Respect her too much.
Her shoulders instantly sag, this bratty little pout pulling on her lip.
“Cameras?” I ask again.
“No.”
“Good.” Leaning in, I run my tongue over her puffy lower lip jutting out. “Don’t pout. You’re too much of a boss to pout about not getting your way. I’m not going to fuck you here, but I’ll make sure to release some of that anger of yours.”
Her eyes trail down to the space between us, snagging on the bulge in my shorts, and my cock instantly jumps at her attention.
“You’re hard already.”
“Yeah. Well, this is what I look like when I want someone. Here’s your reminder, Reese. I walk around this clubhousewith a constant hard-on from my boss, not from some random reporter.”
She hums this satisfied sound, perfectly manicured hands landing on my shoulders. Those light-pink nails drift down my chest, over my abdomen, trailing south in a way that has my body fucking aching for her touch.
She draws a torturous circle through the line of hair just above my shorts before trailing south to toy with the elastic waistband.
“So, this is for me?” she asks.
“It’sbecauseof you.”
“But is itforme?” Her eyes bounce up to mine, innocent and testing all at the same time. “You’re not going to fuck me, but do I get to touch it?”
Does she get to touch it?
Fucking please. She can touch it. Twist it. Lick it. Stroke it. Treat it like a fucking bop-it, for all I care.
Without waiting for my answer, Reese runs her palm over the front of my shorts and I’m officially dying. Because this has got to be what heaven feels like, right?
“Shit.” Head dropping back, I watch her. “Yeah, baby, you can touch it.”
