Pierce doesn’t immediately respond, and when I turn to face him, I find him watching me with an intensity that makes my breath catch. His eyes drop to my mouth for just a moment before meeting mine again, and suddenly, the space between us feels too small and not small enough all at once.
“Pierce,” I whisper, but I’m not even sure what I want to say.
He moves his hand from the chair to my shoulder, fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt, making my skin tingle beneath.
The kiss, when it finally happens, takes my breath away. Pierce’s lips are softer than I remember, yet commanding and warm, certain but careful. There’s a hint of coffee lingering in his mouth, mixing with something distinctly him that makes my head spin.
He makes a sound low in his throat, something betweena groan and surrender, and suddenly, there’s nothing careful about it at all.
His hands move to my face, cradling my jaw with surprising gentleness even as his mouth claims mine with increasing hunger. I reach for him, fingers tangling in his hair, messing up the perfect style he so carefully maintains.
His tongue traces my bottom lip, making me gasp. He takes advantage of my parted lips to deepen the kiss, and all of a sudden, I’m back in that bathroom, with all the confidence in the world, wanting to make this man mine, even if it’s just for a short time before real life intrudes.
When we finally break apart, breathing heavily in the quiet office, Pierce rests his forehead against mine. His hands remain on my face, thumbs stroking my cheeks with gentle movements that make my heart race. The professional distance we’ve maintained for so long lies shattered between us.
“Thatcher,” he breathes, and my name in his mouth sounds like the moment just before dawn breaks. Beautiful. Inspiring.
When his eyes meet mine, they carry none of their usual control. Instead, all I see is want and need.
“We shouldn’t…” he starts, but his words trail off as I lean in to kiss him again, softer this time but no less meaningful. His hands find my waist when I move to straddle his lap. The office chair creaks slightly beneath our combined weight. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he murmurs, and the raw honesty in his voice makes me shiver.
His fingers slide beneath my untucked shirt, finding my overheated skin. When I roll my hips experimentally against his, the kiss turns hungry, desperate, full of months of denied wanting finally given freedom to express itself.
“Pierce…” I moan, needing the same relief I find every night in the shower, or the sanctuary of my room. Except I know this will be a thousand times better. A million times more explosive.
Pierce’s hands move to my ass, pulling me closer as his mouth trails down my neck. The sensation makes me gasp, makes me arch into his touch like I’m seeking something I didn’t know I needed. My dick is like steel in my dress pants, and I’m sure if I look now, there will be a wet spot.
Pierce’s hard cock rubs against mine, but there’s no relief in knowing what it looks like when we’re fully dressed. His teeth graze my collarbone, and the careful control we’ve both maintained for so long crumbles completely.
We grind and kiss, seeking that blissful moment of release. I don’t even care if I have to walk out of this office with cum-stained pants.
“Thatcher,” he breathes against my skin. “We should talk about this.”
I pull back slightly, though my hands remain tangled in his hair. “Do we have to? Can’t we just…have this moment? Let it be what it is?”
Pierce’s gaze betrays him for a split second, then his face resets to neutral. I still saw it. Is he…hurt by my words?
His hands stay on my waist, thumbs stroking soft circles that make it hard to think clearly.
“I don’t want to analyze it,” I continue, leaning down to press my forehead against his. “Don’t want to put labels on it or try to make it fit into neat little boxes. It’s good, isn’t it? This moment, right now?”
His breath catches as I shift in his lap, bringing us closer together. “Yes,” he admits, voice rough with desire. “It’s so good.”
“Then let’s keep it that way.” I trace his bottom lip with my thumb, watching his eyes darken at the touch, and then Itease that fucking sexy chin dimple I’ve wanted to lick for months. “We don’t have to define everything. Sometimes the best things just…are.”
Pierce looks like he wants to argue, but I silence him with another kiss.
“God, Thatcher. You make me lose my mind. I’m so fucking close,” he gasps when we break for air.
“Me too. I don’t care about the mess. Make me come, Pierce.” Our grinding becomes more purposeful, more intense. Pierce’s hands seem to be everywhere at once, in my hair, under my shirt, gripping my hips.
I’m so lost in the way he feels against me, the sounds he makes when I roll my hips just right, that I barely notice the echo of footsteps. Pierce’s hands tighten on my waist for a moment before reluctantly letting go, allowing me to slide off his lap on unsteady legs. We stare at each other with wide eyes and racing hearts as the steps grow closer.
“Evening rounds,” comes Mick’s voice from the hallway. “Building’s closing up for the night. Anyone still here needs to head out.”
“Thanks, Mick. We’ll be out in a minute.” Pierce reaches up to straighten his tie while I attempt to tame my thoroughly messed-up hair. I definitely need more than a minute for the blood to reach the rest of my body so I don’t walk out of the office with a visible boner. Serves me right for wearing gray pants.
We mercifully manage to not bump into Mick on our way out. When we get outside, the night air hits my flushed skin like a wake-up call, though it does nothing to cool the heat still simmering between us.
