He didn’t answer, just went back into his office looking like he wanted to bite through something. I rolled my eyes and followed him in with my laptop to go over his Monday calendar because the man needed a distraction before he tracked down a courier and did something unhinged.
“You’ve got three conflicts Monday morning,” I said, pulling up the schedule. “The Henderson call overlaps with the board prep by twenty minutes, and someone put a vendor review at the same time as your lunch.”
His hand landed on my thigh.
I moved it off. “Pay attention. You’re in a mood and I’m not rewarding it.”
It came back.
I moved it off again. “Finneas.”
“I’m listening. Henderson, board prep, vendor review.”
“Your hand is on my leg again.”
“My hand is where it belongs.”
“Your hand is going to get us both fired. Well, me fired. You own the company.”
He turned his chair to face me and suddenly I was standing between his knees, which happened so fast I didn’t have time to step back. His hands settled on my hips, warm through my skirt, possessive in a way that had everything to do with the courier and nothing to do with the Monday schedule. He looked up at me with dark focused eyes and my brain went offline every goddamn time he did that.
“The door’s open,” I said.
“So close it.”
“If I close that door we both know what’s going to happen.”
“Then don’t close it.”
I stood there with his hands on my hips and his amber eyes locked on mine. I could step back. Pull away, finish the schedule, be professional and responsible and all the things a competent assistant was supposed to be. Monday conflicts were important. Time management was important. Not having sex in an office with a glass wall while the cleaning crew was probably three floors below us was very goddamn important.
His thumbs traced slow circles on my hip bones through my skirt. Just that, just his thumbs, and my resolve crumbled like wet paper.
I walked to the door. My heels were loud in the empty office, each step echoing, and I was aware of him watching me cross the room. His eyes on my back the whole way. I closed the door. Locked it. The click was obscenely loud in the silence. I turned around and he was still in his chair, watching me from across the office with dark eyes and an expression that said he knew I’d close it before I did.
I walked back. Stood between his knees again.
“You’re trouble,” I said.
“You closed the door.”
“Shut up.”
He grabbed my wrist and yanked me onto his lap. The chair creaked under our weight and I bit my lip to stifle a gasp. His hands were everywhere, sliding up my thighs, shoving my skirt higher until it bunched around my waist. “Friendly? That guy’s idea of friendly is bending you over the conference table.” His voice was low, rough, jealousy wrapped in sarcasm. One handgripped my neck, thumb pressing just hard enough to make me arch, while the other worked my blouse open, buttons popping.
My internal snark was my armor but it was crumbling fast as his mouth latched onto my collarbone, teeth scraping skin. He bit down, not gentle, leaving a mark that’d show under my shirt tomorrow. I hissed, fingers tangling in his dark hair, pulling him closer even as I whispered, “We can’t, cleaning crew’s going to be here any second.”
“Then we better make it quick,” he murmured against my skin. His stubble rasped over my breast as he shoved my bra aside, tongue flicking my nipple before sucking hard. I moaned, too loud, and slapped a hand over my own mouth, eyes darting to the glass wall. The lower half was frosted, thank God, but from the waist up we were basically on display for the empty hallway.
He flipped us then, standing and dumping me onto the desk. Papers scattered, reports fluttering to the floor, and my ass hit the wood with a thud. He loomed over me, belt buckle clinking as he undid it one-handed, his free hand pinning my thigh open. “Quiet, Andrea. Or do you want the whole floor hearing how wet you get for your boss?”
“No,” I whimpered.
“No, what?”
“No,sir.”
Nothing says professional like the CEO eating you out on company time. I couldn’t help the thought even as my body betrayed me, legs spreading wider. His mouth was on me in seconds, hot, insistent tongue lapping at my pussy through mypanties before he ripped them aside. No patience, just raw need. He sucked my clit, fingers digging into my hips, leaving bruises I’d feel for days. I bucked against his face, one hand fisting his hair, the other clamped over my mouth to muffle the whimpers. The clock on his wall ticked louder than it should, each second a reminder we were racing the cleaning crew’s master key.
