‘I’m ridiculously interested in you.’ I inhale sharply as his hands curl around my hips, his thumbs make a slow sweep of the bone there. I try very hard to resist the urge to melt against the desk suddenly supporting me. I tell myself it’s because he’s standing so close and because I can smell his aftershave—the one I’d marked as my favourite in his bathroom. And because his eyes are so blue, and his words so bloody tempting. The bottom line is I want him. Even though no good can come of this.
‘I’m sorry.’ I shake my head, my response staccato. ‘I’m just. I’m just not interested in getting involved with anyone at this point.’
He doesn’t speak, though a note of calculation seems to flicker in his gaze before it lowers very deliberately to my chest. I try very hard to ignore the tightening of my nipples, concentrating instead on how his lashes cast a shadow against his cheeks. When his gaze rises for the briefest of moments, I think,he’s going to kiss me.
Quickly on the heels of that thought comes another.I’m going to let him.
But instead, he brings his mouth to the shell of my ear.
‘You’re the mistress of mixed messages.’ His voice is low and husky, and brimming with the unspoken. As I open my mouth to respond, to deny, I find a soft moan is the only sound I make—a reaction in response to the brush of the back of his knuckles against my hard nipple.
‘I like you, Miranda. And you like me. You need to let me in.’
He begins to pull away, my own body following the movement in a motion that seems as natural as the tides, and just as hard to resist as I press my breast more fully into his hand.
I’m not sure who is responsible for the next move—if he reaches for me or I him—but all I do know is our mouths meet. This kiss ... it’s kind of perfect. Soft yet firm as his lips slide against mine. He moans softly when I stroke my tongue against his, the vibration of the sound doing something to me. Making my part of the kiss hungrier, harder as I press myself against him as our kiss turns to another kind. A kiss that’s a fight for possession. A kiss full of need and heat, where teeth clash and tongues tangle, our joint moans mingling in the air. It’s roaming hands and grasping fingers. It’s my butt perched against Olivia’s desk and my skirt being pushed up my legs. And it’s his finger pressing against the cotton of my underwear.
‘James,’ I whisper, arching my back.
‘Christ, I love it when you say my name.’
‘Harry.’ I draw the moniker out, and his next kiss is a smile pressed to my lips.
‘That’s James to you.’
‘Am I not your friend?’ Before he can answer, I suck on his lower lip, tasting it with my tongue.
‘I think we’re a little beyond that.’
Something in my mind whispers what we could be, causing my body to stiffen in his hands. But somehow, James seems to anticipate the change as he hooks his hand under my knee, lifting it to his hip. In no time at all, his fingers are hooking under the cotton, two of those digits pressing deep inside me. It’s almost as though their thrust pushes a cry of relief from me, a cry that is swallowed by his kiss. And with this kiss... there’s no doubt who’s in charge as his thumb brushes the rise of my clit. My body reacts as though lashed by a live line, my back arching as I impale myself on his fingers, pushing them deeper.
‘You’re so sexy,’ his deep voice rasps. ‘You don’t know what you do to me.’
‘Tell me.’ My demand is all husk and silk, even to my own ears. ‘Tell me how much you want me.’
‘Enough to make me think of you this morning.’
‘Oh?’
The memory of you spread out under me to make me come too quickly.’ I feel more than see his smile as he presses his lips to my neck. ‘The mess I made of my stomach and hand.’
The images created by his words make me clench, and I arch my back as I push into his hand. ‘I’d.. . I’d like to see that.’ I close my eyes and imagine, flashes of colour filling my head. White sheets. The golden hairs on his wrist. The purple vein in his forearm as he takes himself in his hand.
‘Would you?’
‘Yes. God, yes.’
‘You’re so beautiful, darling. I want to strip you down, spread you out, and take my time. Make you wild.’
‘Yes. Yes!’ Inside, his fingers curl, brushing that bundle of nerves that makes my toes curl and my insides pound, my climax almost tangible now. A low, appreciative rumble rises from the depths of his chest, his eyes avidly watching the space between my legs as the lewd sounds of our coupling fill the space between us.
‘I can’t think of a more beautiful reason for this day to exist than to feel you come around my fingers. Maybe you can think about just that because I believe my two minutes are up.’ His fingers slip wetly from between my legs. ‘Until next time, Miranda.’
I can hardly process what’s happened as his lips brush the corner of my mouth and he pulls away, right as I’m about to—right before I—
His fingers glisten with my arousal as he presses them to his lips, his other hand feeding into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out what looks like a business card. My fingers unfurl automatically as he presses it to my hand. He smiles the kind of smile that might ordinarily incite me to violence as he fastens the single button on his jacket
But violence goes undelivered because I don’t think I could trust my legs to hold me, let alone coordinate my arms to swing, and all because I can’t move my gaze from the thick bulge of his arousal straining against his pants.
