Page 71 of Painted Truths

A shiver rocks through her body, reminding me that I need to get out of here before I spread her across my desk and feast upon her heavenly body.

“Now, Peaches, be a good girl and do as you’re told.” She swats at me playfully as I sidestep out of the bathroom.

I get as far as the office door, about to grab my briefcase and coat, when her soft words stop me.

“Miss you already.”

My long strides eat up the floor as I reach her, unable to stay away following her gentle confession. Grasping both her hips and pulling her flush against my body, her soft curves mould to the hard planes of mine as though we had been made for each other.

I slide a hand up along her body from her hip, across the flatness of her stomach, into the flared rise of her heaving breast, unable to help myself from lightly squeezing her flesh.

Continuing upwards along her collarbone, I thrust my hand into the hair at the base of her neck, pulling her head forward to plunder her mouth with my own.

Tasting myself on the nectar of her tongue, I feel an impossible sense of ownership fill me to the brim. It’s a feeling I’m entirely unfamiliar with, yet I don’t ever want to go back to before experiencing its wonder.

Our kiss is a beautiful mess of tongues undulating and teeth clashing. It’s unpracticed and raw and real in every way.

When the hand I’ve had on her hip slips around to grasp her flawless ass, she moans loudly into my mouth, and it’s the most beautiful music my ears have ever heard. Then, in complete contradiction to the lustful sounds coming from her mouth, she pushes me away. Softly at first, but more insistent when I don’t stop my onslaught.

I pull back, drunk on her, both of us drawing deep heavy breaths while our eyes find each other’s and hold. Hers are the deepest blue I’ve ever seen, and I’d happily drown in their oceanic depths, but Olivia has other plans.

“Okay, enough for today. Get your ass out that door and to your meeting.”

She takes a large step backwards, removing herself from my periphery before making a shoo-ing motion with her hands, effectively dismissing me from my own damn office.

Unable to help the edge of my lip tugging up in a half-smirk, I hold my hands up in defeat just as she swings the bathroom door after flashing her pearly whites.

Leaving the building, I begin the arduous and entirely unwanted trek across town while thoughts of my afternoon delight run rampant in my head. I don’t see myself as that much of a reprehensible bastard that my brother won’t come around over time, though the thoughts of Alex having her first is something I’ll eventually have to move past. I’ve long suspected there was something more between them, and screw it if Peaches’ admission earlier hadn’t almost destroyed me.

But she is mine now. I’m giving Alex much more responsibility at the office and trying my utmost to rebuild bridges that had been razed to the earth years ago. But Peaches is a bridge too far at this point.

And one I won’t—no—one I can’t be without.

My phone ringing interrupts my musings, and I answer on autopilot.

“Henry, my motherfucking man! How are you, my friend?”

Without waiting for a response, in typical Caden fashion, he ploughs ahead. “Great, dude. Listen. Layla and I are tying the knot this weekend, and I need you and Nate there. You got me?”

My face breaks into a smile at his exuberance, and even if I’m not overly enamoured with his baby mama bride, Caden’s happiness is contagious.

“Mail me the details, North. I’ll ring my pilot ASAP. Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Cade. Not for the fucking world.”

Silence follows, then his signature boisterous laugh. “Thanks, man.” And the call disconnects.

An email lands on my phone not thirty seconds later, and after skimming through it, I know precisely what my next move will be.

Ringing directly through to Alex’s office, knowing damn well Peaches won’t have left, she answers after three rings.

“DeMarco Holdings. You’re through to the office of Alexander DeMarco. How may I help you?”

Shit. Cue the dick throbbing. Even her prudish secretary voice is sexy as all fucking hell, forcing my voice to drop to a husky growl.

“Peaches, baby.”

Her surprised gasp has my dick jolting to attention in my pants. “Henry?”

Unable to stop the burst of laughter that escapes me, I ask, “Well, who else would be calling you baby after the indecency that we participated in less than a fucking hour past?”