Chapter 8
“Where’s the daily report?” Lucas asked from his office.
For some reason, he’d kept his door wide open the whole damn morning. Like he wanted to keep tabs on her at every step of the way. Why? Did he fear she’d get on the phone and tell a coworker about her sex filled trip? Crystal shook her head.
Crystal pressed on the sleek intercom button, choosing to do so instead of just popping in his office. “It’s on the top of your pile, to the left,” she said, with the intelligibility of a GPS voiceover.
She heard the violent ruffle of papers on his desk, and smiled to herself. Of course he could access to the electronic version as well, but the damn proved to be a contraction—he supported recycling and donated to environmentalist causes, yet loved printing things that weren’t really necessary. Like the daily reports. Then, he’d shred the document in his state of the art machine, and recycle the small strips.
Well, whatever. It was his money and his conscience.
“I don’t see it,” he said, again, from his office instead of the intercom.
She stood at once, sucking in a deep breath. She strode into his office with a plastered smile on her face. The same one she’d give the Starbucks employee whenever he messed up her order or misspelled her name.
Lucas rocked back in his chair, and she felt his eyes on her with every little movement. Her stomach squeezed, knots tightening her whole mid-section. Avoiding a direct stare would be best. She walked over his desk, ignoring the mess and the pieces of paper on the floor, and reached across to the left side. A shiver of awareness rolled down her spine the moment her hand accidentally brushed his, and she cleared her throat.
That’s when she knew… that this whole idea had sucked from the start. She motioned to move, but he closed his hand on hers, his fingers clutching her flesh and offering her the type of warmth and safety she shouldn’t have missed. But she did. Oh, how she did…
He pulled her to him, and soon she was on his lap, gasping, excited. Damn. The door was open, even though no one would come to that floor that time of the day without clearance from the reception. Either way, executives from lower floors had access to the concierge room with all the goodies in this level. What if one of them showed up and saw him, door wide open?
“Coat closet,” he said gruffly, and before she responded, he lifted her and carried her to the in-built closet he’d got done six months prior. Because a lot of times he went to dinner meetings immediately after work, he added a top-notch walk-in closet where he could change and had a wide selection of suits, ties and shoes.
She moaned, for a moment not caring about anything else but the sultry need to have him naked against her. His kisses grew hungrier, greedier, wetter. She traced a path with her nails from the back of his neck up his scalp, scratching him, which propped him to intensified the kiss even more, his tongue ruthless.
When he closed the door of the confined area behind them, she sighed. With labored breaths and tangling limbs, they began to undress each other. She wished to have him bare for her, but she knew that would take time. So, she settled for ripping open the buttons of his shirt, then undoing his buckle. When she reached into his pants and palmed his delicious cock, he groaned into her ear.
The sound had the magical effect of turning her on even more. “Lucas,” she said in a plea.
“I feel it too, baby. We need to fuck.”
Fuck. The blunt word caused her walls to slicken, her nipples to tighten painfully. He pulled down her pants and underwear, and she clumsily kicked them to the side.
He thrust three fingers inside her pussy, and she moaned. Her flesh clutched him, her body recognizing his. “God, you’re wet. I’ve been thinking about eating you all morning.”
He lowered himself, and she threw her head back, not caring one single bit about creasing the fabrics behind her. Without delay, he buried his head between her legs and French kissed her sex.
She bucked her hips into his mouth, eager to give all of herself to him. To Lucas Grande. Her pain-in-the-ass boss. The man she was falling in love with—madly and undeniably.
He tickled her clit, then focused on lapping at her folds, his fingers working in and out of her. She had to bite her lip to keep from shouting from the depths of her lungs. Ripples of pleasure washed over her until they merged into one huge wave, from head to toe. Her body shook, and even as her flesh trembled in his mouth he kept going, swallowing ever lasting drop of her creamy essence.
When he disengaged from her pussy, a cold draft whispered into her. The immediate withdrawal. He stood, and pulled her to him. She felt her tangy scent in his lips, and wrapped her arms around him. She’d always enjoyed his muscled, large physique. He made her feel safe and protected. Cherished.
“Crystal, you aren’t going anywhere,” he said, his voice low and husky.
She shifted on the shelf, and exterior light from the window cast over his face. “Are you talking about my job?”
He shook his head. “Screw your job. I mean, you’re the best assistant I’ve ever had and it’ll suck if you really want to leave. But I meant as a woman. I can’t let you leave.”
Her heart skipped a beat or two. Who was counting? Sweat slicked her forehead. She wanted to be happy, but old wounds warned her to be careful instead. “Why not?”
He ran a finger down her nose, his touch causing an ocean of sensations through her. “Because I’ve fallen for you,” he said, resting his forehead against hers. “Hard.” He added.
Her heart beat again, much faster than before, her pulse racing. Screw being careful. “Really?”
He got upright again. Specks of golden flickered in his gorgeous caramel eyes. “Yes. I’ve never felt this way before. I need you by my side.”
“Even if I don’t dress like your exes?” she said, needing to ask. Sure, she had learned a bunch in the past few days and understood she could look good without compromising her principles. But she was still no Victoria’s Secret supermodel or high-powered CEO. If he wanted to be with her, he had to accept she wasn’t a fashionista.
