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Dangerous thought, that. She’d sworn after her last office relationship that she’d never sleep with a coworker again. And she had never had sex in an office. He scooted her ass to the edge of the table.
Wrapped in his arms, she molded her body to his. He took up every inch of space in her immediate vicinity—he’d filled her vision, was filling her body. That’s the way it had been with him since the mansion. She couldn’t escape his closeness, and weirdly, she didn’t want to.
The next pull and push of his hips caused pressure to build deep in her core. She was unraveling. “Marcus.”
“That’s it, Lil.” He pounded into her, knowing what she needed and taking her there with focused effort. “Come, baby. I’ve got you.”
He did have her. He had her cradled in his arms. And she had him cradled between her legs. They were holding onto each other while coming apart. On the next thrust, she let go. Her pulse skyrocketed, her breathing went shallow, and her mind was lost in a haze.
His release came on the heels of hers, and she enjoyed his orgasm almost as much as she’d enjoyed her own—the low sounds he made, his piney scent curling in her nostrils.
Incredible.
He was resting over top of her, his breath tickling her neck while his heartbeat slowed to its normal rhythm. He kissed her chest, her collarbone, and then placed a soft kiss on the center of her mouth. She played with the longer hair on top of his head, pushing it away from his forehead.
When she grinned up at him, he grinned back, his talented lips parting over straight, white teeth, his dimple buried under a few days’ growth. She touched his stubble with the pad of one finger.
“Growing a beard?” she asked.
“Want me to?”
She raised a brow. “Would you if I asked?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Yeah.”
Then he kissed her, and she wondered what else he’d do if she asked…
Cold Chinese food tasted better when Lily fed it to him.
He opened his mouth and she threw in a piece of Kung Pao chicken. She fished out another sticky piece from the container but this time when he opened his mouth, she fed herself instead. He snatched her wrist and sucked the sauce off her fingertips.
“We should eat every meal like this,” she said.
They were perched on the table they’d made love on—er, fucked on, he reminded himself tersely. Thanks to the solid craftsmanship of the Amish, it had held their weight without breaking or wobbling. He’d known that table had been a smart purchase.
She had redressed, but he didn’t have the heart to tell her that she’d buttoned her blouse crooked. Her hair was a frizzy tornado, her bare feet folded beneath her, and her panties were in his pocket. She’d tried to wrestle them away from him earlier and had failed.
He had insisted that going commando was good practice for the RSD dinner. Though now that he had the prize in his pocket, he considered slipping them to her under the table during tomorrow’s meeting. Just to watch her cheeks turn pink and her blue eyes widen…
“What are you smiling about?” she asked.
“Come home with me.”
Shit. So much for manning up.
She shoveled a bite of food into her mouth with the chopsticks. Gesturing to her chewing mouth, she shrugged like she couldn’t answer.
“You’re doing that on purpose,” he pointed out.
She spent a few more seconds chewing, swallowing, and running her tongue over her teeth.
“Seriously?”
She licked her lips, wiped her fingers along the corners of her mouth, and then said, “Okay.”
“Okay?” He was so shocked by a positive response, he nearly fell off the table.
She nodded.
