Page 42 of My Girl to Take

“Good,” I whisper. “Because I don’t want to lose you.”

The words slip out before I can stop them. Honest. Terrifying.

For a second, everything hangs on what he says next.

“You won’t,” he replies.

Relief hits so hard it almost knocks the breath out of me.

“I love you, Kiera.”

My heart stutters. And just like that, everything else fades.

“I love you too,” I breathe.

That’s all it takes.

He pulls me into him, his mouth finding mine in a kiss that feels desperate and hungry, like it carries everything we didn’t say before. Everything we almost lost. Everything we just fought through to get back to this moment.

The table presses against the back of my legs before I even realize we’ve moved. His hands, firm and grounding, pull me closer as the kiss deepens. The world outside the room disappears completely as the tension shifts into intense pleasure.

“You have no idea how close I was to losing this,” he murmurs against my lips.

“You didn’t,” I whisper back.

“And I won’t,” he adds.

The promise settles deep.

His hands grip my thighs, lifting me onto the conference table in one smooth motion. The wood is cool against my skin, my skirt riding up, and he steps between my legs, his body pressing against mine, hard and demanding.

“Here?” I breathe, glancing at the door.

But he’s already kissing me again, his tongue sweeping through my mouth, his hands rough and urgent.

“There’s a board of directors on the other side of that wall,” he smirks, his fingers finding the buttons of my blouse and undoing them with practiced efficiency. “Half of them are still in the corridor.”

My breath catches, heat pooling low and sharp. “Logan…”

“Say it, and I’ll stop.”

I don’t say it.

“That’s what I thought.”

“I want it,” I gasp, arching into him, my fingers tangling in his hair. “I want you. Now. Please…”

He doesn’t wait. He drags my blouse open, my bra following, his mouth closing over my nipple, sucking hard. I cry out, my head falling back, my hips bucking against him involuntarily. He groans against my skin, his hand sliding up my thigh, under my skirt, his fingers finding me wet and ready.

“Fuck,” he grits out, pressing two fingers inside me, curling them. “You’re soaked. Were you thinking about this the whole meeting? Standing up there running that room, wet for me, while we were at odds?”

I whimper, unable to answer, my body tightening around his fingers. He works me ruthlessly, his thumb circling my clit, his mouth moving to my other breast, his teeth grazing, his tongue soothing. My hands grip the edge of the table.

“Come,” he orders, his voice rough. “Now, Kiera. Now. Before anybody has the sense to knock.”

I shatter, my orgasm hitting me hard. It has me crying out. He keeps stroking me through it, drawing it out, his mouth on mine, swallowing my moans.

Before I can catch my breath, he’s freeing himself, his cock already leaking pre-cum. He pushes into me in one deep stroke. We both groan, the sensation overwhelming, perfect, exactly what I need after everything.