"Review quarterly reports." His lips twitch. "You distracted me."
"I distracted you?" I poke his chest. "I brought coffee. You're the one who?—"
"Looked at you?" He raises an eyebrow. "That's all it takes?"
My cheeks heat. "Stop it."
He kisses me instead. Slow and deep, nothing like the frantic collision of before. When he pulls back, his thumb traces my cheekbone.
"We should..." I gesture vaguely at the mess we've made. Papers scattered everywhere. His pen holder definitely on the floor. My bra hanging off the back of his chair like a flag of surrender.
So much for professionalism.
Nico pushes off the desk, and I immediately miss his warmth. He moves around the room collecting clothing with the same efficient precision he applies to everything else. Business deals. Security protocols. Making me fall apart.
I slide off the desk on wobbly legs, wincing slightly. Tomorrow I'll probably have bruises on my thighs from the edge. Worth it.
My underwear landed somewhere near the bookshelf. I retrieve them with as much dignity as I can muster, which isn't much when Nico watches me with that satisfied smirk.
"Stop looking so smug," I tell him, stepping into my panties.
"I'm not smug."
"Your face says otherwise."
He buttons his shirt, fingers moving quickly. "My face doesn't say anything. It's a face."
"It's a smug face."
The corner of his mouth twitches. That's basically a full grin from him.
I hook my bra and pull my blouse back on, trying to remember which buttons go where. My brain is still fuzzy around the edges. Desk sex will do that to a person, apparently.
Desk sex.
Life is weird.
Nico tucks his shirt into his pants, and I watch the play of muscles beneath the fabric. He catches me staring.
"See something you like?"
"Your ego doesn't need any more feeding." I smooth down my skirt, checking for wrinkles. "Is there anything you need help with? While I'm here?"
His gaze drags down my body. Heat pools in my belly again, which is ridiculous. We just finished.
"If you stay in this office," he says, voice dropping low, "I won't need any help. Because I won't be working."
My face flames. "That's not what I meant."
"I know what you meant." He crosses to me in two steps, tilting my chin up with one finger. "But my brain stops functioning when you're in the room. So unless you want round two on the couch, you should leave."
I should definitely leave.
Definitely.
"The couch does look comfortable," I hear myself say.
Traitor mouth.
