"Ah, shit," I mutter, shaking out my arm.
He looks down at me with concern. "Are you okay?"
I laugh, because honestly, what was I thinking? I couldn't drag this man anywhere he didn't want to go if my life depended on it.
“Yeah, just need to see if I still have use of my fingers.” I stretch them out between us.
He smirks, and then slowly, stands to his full height, and now I have to look up to find his handsome face. He’ssotall. Much taller than any man I’ve ever been with. Not that it matters, of course.
I’m working.
I thread our fingers together and smile. "Come on."
This time he follows willingly.
The hallway near the restrooms is dim and quiet, a pocket of shadow away from the noise of his party. And there, right where I hoped it would be, is that dusty sprig of mistletoe still hanging above the men's room door like it's been there since November, and nobody had the motivation to take it down.
I pull him into the dark until his back is pressed against the wall and I'm standing in front of him looking up. It's not exactly a sexy setting; I'll give it that. Standing outside a bathroom under a dying piece of holiday decor is not the stuff of great romantic stories. But if Roman Carpenter is the cheater his girlfriend suspects, he won't care where we are when we do this.
"What are you doing, Christina?" he asks, his voice teasing, like he already knows. His hazel eyes are lit with heat and mischief. Even in my thigh-high boots, he towers over me.
I rise onto my toes, tilt my head back, close my eyes, and press my lips to his. I know. I know I didn't have to do that. In the years I've been doing this job, I have never once initiated kissing a target. That is a hard, fast rule.
Letting them touch my legs? Fine. A hug? Sure. Letting them attempt a kiss? That's the job. But me initiating it? Never. It's risky and invasive and a line I swore I'd never cross.
And yet.
Maybe it's the low lighting. Maybe it's the lingering holiday magic of the mistletoe or the fact that my body is in fullbiological overdrive tonight. Maybe it's just him. His good looks and that voice and the way he looked at me like he was memorizing.
Whatever it is, I go for it. And he takes the bait.
A deep groan rolls through his chest as one hand finds my waist. His palm is so large it squeezes into my core. His other hand slides up my side, his touch searing through my shirt, until his fingers curl possessively around my throat to hold me in place like he doesn’t want me to run.
His thumb strokes my chin, coaxing my mouth to open, and when I do, his tongue brushes mine, his lips close around the tip on a suck, and I swear my world tilts.
It’s like lightning striking a metal pole, hot, electric, and all-consuming. The jolt shoots through me, sparking every nerve from the crown of my head to the tips of my toes, and,whoahelp me, it doesn’t skip my clit on the way back down.
For a full fifteen seconds, I forget everything. The camera in my zipper. The microphone stitched into my hem. The case. Kacey. All of it. There's only his body against mine, his hands and the way he's kissing me like he has all the time in the world and no intention of rushing. My palms are pressed into his pecs. He’s pinning me against him with his hands. One is curling around my throat deliciously squeezing, the other is curving around my back until he grips my ass and palms it with a deep groan.
Brian never kissed me like this. Brian never held me like this. He never squeezed my ass like he liked it. Brian wasn’t this big either.
I feel the press of his cock against me, very large, very real. And hell, if he’s touching my ass, I should get to touch his. My hands slide down and maybe because I’m curious and haven’t touched a man since my ex-husband, I let my hands slide down to cup his front instead of his back first. Dick, balls, the wholedamn thing. It’s long, thick and I can’t get around all of it, but I give it a solid squeeze anyway, partly to secure some bonus footage for the case, but mostly because I want to know how it feels to touch a man who’s turned on again.
He’shuge.And I’m not the least bit surprised.
Then the reality of what I’m doing crashes in like a bucket of ice water.
I stumble back, pushing against his chest to break the kiss. My breathing is all wrong, and my eyes are wide as I look up at him. My lips are practically tingling with pleasure. I wonder if he’s feeling what I felt. If he’s just as surprised as me by what we just allowed happen.
He’s staring at me like he’s ready to devour me whole, his pupils blown wide with hunger. There’s absolutely no regret or second thoughts in his expression. Any thoughts of his company party are gone now.This man looks like he’s ready tofuck.
“Damn… that was…,” he says, his voice heavy. His hand moves to his bottom lip where he swipes his thumb across it as if he’s trying to get another taste of me. It might be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
I shake my head, trying to remove the haze. “I gotta go.” And then I bolt.
It isn’t my smoothest exit, and I’m sure it’s going to raise some brows, but I don’t care.
I race out of the hallway, grab my fleece coat from the back of the barstool, and sprint out into the freezing night. There’s no way he’d follow me, not with his holiday party going on and his words about being committed to his employees, but I’m not willing to take any chances.
