Page 57
Why, why did rod-up-her-ass Lily McIntire do it for him? Probably because he knew she wasn’t rigid. And under his hands and his mouth, she was downright pliant. Like melted peanut butter.
It was a shame he didn’t have a jar in his food cabinet at work. It would taste great when licked off those pert breasts of hers…
“Okay, you take it off.” He smoothed his palm over her bare calf and then down to one of her high heels. He tossed the shoe over his shoulder, and it thudded to the floor behind him.
“Do you have any idea how much those cost?” she asked, her fingers hovering over the top button of her blouse.
“Nope.” He moved to the other leg, slid that shoe off, and tossed it into the metal trash can with a clang!
Her lips tilted into a smile. “You’re the worst.”
“I’m the best.”
“Were the salon plans approved?” She pulled the shirt off her shoulders. “I was thinking—wouldn’t it be nice to have a drink station where customers could help themselves? Coffee, tea, a few wine selections…”
He held up a hand to stop her. “Are you under the assumption that talking about salon floor plans turns me on? Because it does not.”
“I’m not assuming anything. I’m making conversation.”
His eyes went to a decidedly plain white bra that still looked sexy on her. “Why?”
“Because you said you wanted to work tonight.”
“I’m working on you,” he said. “I couldn’t exactly blurt that out in the conference room, now could I?”
Before she could argue, which she was poised to do, he flicked the clasp on her bra and slid the straps halfway down her arms. “I love that they’re peach.”
“What’s peach?” She blinked down at her bare breasts.
“Your nipples.” He ran his thumb over one, watching it harden further under his touch. “They’re perfect.”
“If you’re trying to prove you’re skilled at seduction, there’s no need.”
He moved her slim-fitting skirt high on her thighs. High enough to spread her legs so that he could stand in between them. “Careful, McIntire, that was almost a compliment.”
He lowered his head and took one perfect peach nipple into his mouth. Her hand went to his hair, spearing the strands as her back arched.
This was so much better than them being combative with each other. Or him trying to think of the comeback for whatever she might say next. When they were together like this, they could be themselves—the real versions.
He tongued her breasts while slipping his fingers into her cotton panties. He stroked her below as she panted and moaned. Then he dragged the panties from her legs, leaving them dangling from one of her ankles.
She was exquisite, with her skirt hiked to her waist, her strawberry waves spilling over the table. He made quick work of the condom and then returned to her, sliding in deep.
“So good,” she said after she sucked in a breath.
She was his every fantasy come true. She was laid out on the table, her breasts bouncing with every forward thrust. One of her feet rested on his shoulder, giving him a hell of a view between her legs. Her other leg was anchored at his waist like she couldn’t be close enough.
But while desk sex was a fantasy, there was one problem. He couldn’t reach her mouth. And he needed her mouth. He palmed her back and lifted her toward him. She opened her eyes, lust-filled, her pupils wide and dark.
She licked her lips, held his gaze. His heart filled to overflowing like he was feeling every smile, sigh, and wink she’d given him all at once. All right now.
When she blinked, he thought maybe she’d figured him out. Her gaze cleared; her eyebrows drew together the slightest bit. The last thing he needed was for her to know what he was feeling for her, especially since he hadn’t quite figured it out himself.
“Dammit, McIntire,” he growled. “Kiss me.”
Work sex was good.
With him, her mind filled in.
