“Stop. Talking.”
“Connor...”
Suddenly, his mouth was on hers. His hands in her hair. His heavy body pinning her against the edge of the desk while he kissed the breath out of her lungs.
The kiss was desperate. Urgent. Hot. A necessity. He did it because she couldn’t stop talking — and he couldn’t stop listening. He did it because giving in to the attraction was better than arguing. Because, otherwise, the pulsing energy between them wouldn’t go away. Because one more bad decision had lost them.
“I said stop talking,” he whispered, and the next moment, he lifted her onto the desk and stood between her legs. And before she could object, he was kissing her again.
Rachel didn’t care what he’d said; she only knew what she felt. It was the same for him: the desire to run away from his problems, to shake off the past by enjoying the present.
Maybe that was why they butted heads. They were too similar. Neither of them had been able to change their parentsinto the people they deserved. They’d both run away from their families, believing they were protecting their siblings, but probably only hurting them.
But she didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t want to listen to the small voice in her head whispering that this wasn’t a solution, that it would simply become another problem.
While Connor kissed her, she could breathe more freely. While he touched her, it was easier to forget. While she wrapped her legs around him and felt him hard and large against her thigh, she could enjoy it more easily.
So she returned the kiss. She pulled his head down to hers and pressed herself against him until their torsos were united and no anger, no insecurity, and no despair could fit between them. There was nothing left but desire, building and searching for an outlet.
“I don’t want this, you know?” Connor whispered as he reached under her shirt, leaving goosebumps and heat wherever he touched her.
“What?” She was too distracted to understand. She was unbuttoning his shirt, touching him as much as she wanted this time. She would touch him until she’d had enough.
“I don't want to want you, Rachel. I’ve tried to fight it, but when I look at you, there’s nothing but buzzing in my head.”
She knew what he meant. “Well, I don’t want to make any more bad decisions,” she whispered against his lips. “Now look at me.” She kissed him hard before undoing the last button of his shirt and swiftly slipping it over his shoulders. Then she let her mouth wander over his chest and down his stomach.
“Fuck,” Connor whispered, tilting his head back, his hands still in her hair. There was a hint of desperation in his voice. “We’re going to regret this.”
“Then you better make it worth it,” she murmured, pulling him by his tie to kiss him again.
And Connor gave up. She felt it in the way his kiss grew rougher, his tongue impatient. The way he pressed his hips against hers and bent her backward over the table, the next moment, carelessly pulling her dress over her head, tossing it aside...and not a second later, the keyboard, hole punch, and stapler followed with a loud crash.
He grabbed her hand, which was still clinging to his tie as she rubbed herself against him, needing more friction, and pried her fingers free. “I don’t want to be strangled when you come so hard you forget you’re even holding it,” he replied tersely, yanking it over his head.
As he spoke, Rachel’s breathing became shallow, and she let her gaze wander greedily over his bare torso, taking in the sight of his defined abs and pecs. She loved it when he talked like that. So damn direct. She grew wetter as his eyes darkened under her gaze, and the next moment, he pulled her to the edge of the desk with a jerk and kissed her again.
She was wearing only her underwear, and he was terribly overdressed in his pants. So she went to his belt, rubbing his hard, large length through the fabric of his suit trousers. He sucked in a gasp before she opened it, undid the button...and Connor pulled her bra down and took one of her nipples in his mouth.
A moan escaped her, and she arched her back to meet his mouth. Connor gently bit her tip and slight pain and pleasure shot straight between her thighs, where he’d strayed with one of his large hands, roughly pushing her panties aside.
There was no finesse. No time. No long, relaxed kisses. Everything was urgent and hot, his mouth, his body, his hand as he suddenly sank two fingers inside her, stretching her and rubbing her inside.
“Shit,” slipped out of her mouth as she thrust her hips toward him, waiting for him to use his thumb. But the bastard just smiled innocently at her.
“What’s wrong?” he breathed against her ear before kissing the spot behind it.
Asshole.
But two could play that game. So she slid over his muscles, tugged his pants over his hips, slipped into his boxers, and closed her hand around him.
He was big. And as she ran up and down his hard shaft – her fingers unable to meet – Connor withdrew his fingers and gripped the edge of the desk with both hands.
“What’s wrong?” she replied calmly, circling his tip with her thumb, making his hard cock twitch in her hand. She kissed Connor’s neck, licked his collarbone, tasted salt and man, and as she sped up her movements, Connor’s breathing quickened...
“Enough,” he snapped, pulling her hand out of his briefs and kicking away his boxers before yanking his wallet from his pocket and pulling out a condom. Rachel licked her lips as she too removed her underwear and watched him slide the condom over his length. Everything in her body contracted with desire as he stepped between her thighs again, took her face between his hands, and kissed her deeply. His tongue danced, wrestling with hers as his shaft brushed through her wet heat. She clung to Connor’s shoulders as he positioned himself — and penetrated her with a single, powerful thrust.
The air was forced from her lungs as he filled her, stretching her to the limit. She wrapped her legs around his waist and parted her lips because it was too much. The friction. The sensations.
