“Good morning.”
“Good morning, Mr. Conti,” she says in that sultry voice of hers.
“Come in and see me when you have a moment, Erica.”
Her lips part.
“Yes, Sir.”
I imagine dragging her into my office and ordering her to strip for me.
I show none of this on my face.
I keep walking into my office and close the door behind me.
A few minutes later, there’s a soft knock.
“Come in.”
The door opens, and Erica slips inside. She closes it behind her and locks it without being told.
She stands in front of the shut door and watches me, not saying a word.
I crook a finger.
No hesitation, she comes around my desk, heels quiet on the polished floor, stopping in front of me close enough that I can smell the perfume she put on this morning. Something deceptively innocent.
I catch her wrist and pull her in.
She lands in my lap with a soft, surprised sound, hands bracing on my shoulders.
I cup the back of her head and take her mouth.
It’s a consuming kiss that’s both a greeting and a claim. She makes a small yearning sound into my mouth and kisses me back just as hard, just as hungry, one of her hands sliding up my neck into my hair.
She’s here.
And she’s in my arms.
And she tastes exactly the way I remembered.
For the first morning in a week, the knot in my chest starts to loosen.
I pull back just enough to see her face.
Her pupils are wide, her lips swollen, her cheeks flushed.
She’s so fucking beautiful it makes my chest ache.
“Hi,” she says, her voice a little breathless.
I tighten my arm around her waist, pulling her closer.
“Welcome back,” I say.
A slow smile spreads across her face. “It’s good to be back.”
I trace her lower lip with my thumb, watching her breath catch.
