Page 14 of Nailed

“I work for you,” he said, his body growing more and more tense with each word. “Isn’t there some rule against fraternizing while on the clock?”

“You just clocked out.”

And that made him fair game. When he finally faced me properly, his pupils were blown wide. I wasn't sure how much of it was the poor lighting. But his deepening breaths provided some evidence for a different case. A case that broke the very last remnants of my resolve and self-control with all the grace of a wrecking ball.

“You're the client,” he said, and this time his voice was strained and so low I could barely hear him. “You tell me what it is you want me to do.”

Everything rested on my next answer, both of us knew that. He was drawing the line and asking me whether or not I wanted to step over it.

Was it wise? No.

Would it be worth it? There was only one way to find out.

“Clothes off, Rafe.”

And the line was completely obliterated.

He pushed off the work table and reached for me just as I closed the gap between us. When we met at the midpoint, my entire body erupted in sensation.

It wasn't just the size and heat of him, the muscle and presence of his body. It wasn't the exotic nature of his touch, rough with callouses and intense with strength. It was the buildup of the anger that had grown between us since the day we met. It was the constant snipes and barbs that returned like boomerangs with every exchange and those looks that seemed to cut down to my soul.

Oh, I hated him. I hated him so much I wanted to fuck the ego out of him.

Our bodies tangled in each other, our hands grasping at clothes like we wanted to tear them off. And maybe we did. I could've sworn I heard material rip and I wasn't sure who was responsible for that.

I didn't know where or when the attraction started to get us here but we were feeding it like kindling to a fire. No, I knew that was bullshit. The attraction had always been there, couched in reservation and conflict that maybe we'd intended to maintain because this, this was enough to set us both alight.

Rafe made a sound that arched my back, and as I pressed myself even tighter against him, his hand slipped down my back to wrap a leg around his waist.

“You hate me, huh?” he asked, his tongue snaking out to playfully flick at mine.

“So much,” I answered, fisting a hand in his hair. I tugged hard enough for his head to jerk back, then kissed his exposed throat. “I hate you. I hate what you do to me.”

“Lauren,” Rafe breathed my name like air and tightened his grip around my body as he held me against him. “You hate what I do to you? Like you haven't been torturing me all this time. Like you didn’t fucking know exactly what you were doing.”

“You mean insulting you whenever I had the chance?” I laughed against his throat and felt him tense up, and could actually see goosebumps pock his skin. The power trip I felt seeing that should be studied.

I wanted him weak and foolish. I wanted him unraveled and conquered.

I rolled my hips against his body, ugly in lust and so desperate for any kind of relief. Rafe groaned and stumbled over to the work desk he'd just been stationed at. We knocked its contents off the surface and he attempted to lower me down onto it but I dragged him with me.

His mouth was on mine again, hot and needy. We'd somehow found a way to remove our shirts and I was now fighting with his belt buckle. Rafe chuckled at my frustration but the sound cut out when I finally managed to slip my hand inside his jeans.

He growled, his body caving in around my hand as I began to stroke him.

“Not so fucking arrogant now, are you?” I teased.

“Fuck you,” he shuddered, his head flopping onto my shoulder.

“Oh? That's all you've got? How disappointing.” I rubbed my thumb over the tip of his cock and felt him spasm in my hand, coating my fingers in pre-come. He let out a pitiful sound in my ear, then immediately pressed his lips to my neck as though to silence himself in embarrassment. I wanted more of that. “All that bravado for this? Moaning like a bitch in heat before you even get your dick wet.”

His cock twitched again.

So that's what he liked. I guess all the banter truly was foreplay for him. My own arousal was soaring through the roof. He felt so good in my hand, the proof of his desire so clear that there was no room to overthink it. Rafe wanted me and he was fighting himself to not lose himself in that desire.

He was panting now, gritting his teeth. “You done playing with me yet?”

“Funny you're asking when you're fucking yourself into my palm like this,” I crooned.