Derek had a big fundraiser to attend, so he had left the office at four. Renee loved the days when he left early. Most of Derek’s employees were on contract. Policy analysts, researchers, pollsters. They worked as consultants from home, occasionally coming in to use the common office space or conference rooms that Derek kept available.

So, on a Friday afternoon when Derek himself was gone, Renee really was the only person in the whole office, and she loved it. Not because he was a bad boss, or even because of the mounds of work she often had to do for him. No, she preferred to be in the office alone because it was the only time in her day when no one needed anything from her. She spent her entire day seeing to other people’s needs—her mother, David, Derek. Some nights she fell into bed and she was so tired even her bones hurt. Any chance to be alone, with her thoughts, her dreams, and even her exhaustion, was welcomed.

And Renee did still have dreams. She’d buried them deep, but in these rare moments that she was alone she would pull them out, dust them off, and look at them in all their mystical, sparkling beauty.

Her first dream was to finish college. Get the degree in marketing and public relations that she’d been working on before she took the job with Derek. After that, she had hopes of getting a position with a non-profit doing their community relations work. Her goal was to be hired by an organization that worked with children in poverty. She’d been doing an unpaid internship with such an organization when her mother’s cancer had been diagnosed and derailed all of their lives.

She finished up the report on the monthly office expenditures and hit send to have it delivered to Derek’s inbox. Sighing, she spun her chair around to face the filing cabinets and grabbed the stack of papers in her inbox.

“Do you alphabetize them or is there a secret code?”

Renee’s heart leaped into her throat, her papers scattered everywhere and she jumped out of her chair, right into the firm hold of Marcus.

“Whoa. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He gazed down at her, concern filling his eyes.

She put a hand over her racing heart. “Oh, God. It’s okay, but you really have to start taking the elevator. Every time you do that I lose a day or two off my life.”

He kept his hold on her arms, a warm smile gliding across his perfect features. “If it means keeping you on earth longer, I’ll take the elevator every time from now on.”

She caught her breath, the heat from his hands soaking through her thin silk blouse. She tried to step back, but her chair knocked against the backs of her knees, threatening to toss her off balance yet again.

“Did you need to see Derek?” Her voice came out in a whisper, and no matter what she did, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his.

“No. Derek’s at a fundraiser, which I knew, and why I chose to visit now. I came to see you.”

She finally broke from his magnetic pull and stepped back, rolling her chair away at the same time.

“You shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“You shouldn’t be visiting me when Derek’s not here. If he were to find out—”

“But he won’t. He won’t find out, and if he does I can handle him.”

She turned her back on him and pretended to busy herself with the plants across the room, praying silently for the phone to ring or the elevator to chime, anything to keep from having this argument that she wasn’t sure she could win.

“You have to stop,” she whispered. “Stop sending flowers, stop coming here to see me.” Then she felt him at her back, hot and big, and oh so convincing.

“Do you mean that? Do you really want me to leave you alone? Because I will. I’m not a stalker. I don’t get off on imposing myself on women who aren’t interested.”

She swung around and found herself so close to him that she had to look up to meet his eyes.

“I don’t think you’re a stalker. But you do love the chase. Tell me I’m wrong.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, something not unlike regret skating across his face.

“Yes, I’ve always liked a good chase. I’ve always liked to feel that sense of accomplishment when I catch something—a story, a pop fly…a woman.” He paused, lifting one hand to cup her cheek. She fought the urge to turn into his hand and struggled to control her breath as molten desire hit the very center of her being.

“But you. Are not a chase. You are not a conquest or a trophy, or a contest to win. You…” He swallowed, almost as if he were nervous. Marcus Ambrose, debonair media darling, nervous. One corner of her mouth quirked up in spite of her efforts to stop it.

“You aren’t something I want,” he said slowly. “You’re something I need. I don’t know why, I can’t even begin to figure out how. I only know that I can’t stay away from you and I have absolutely no interest in anyone else.” His thumb stroked her jaw and his voice dropped—deeper, rougher. “I dream about you. I worry about you. I can’t get you out of me. You’re in here—” he placed a fist over his heart “—and I don’t know how to get you out.”

Renee froze, her mind swirling with questions, emotions spinning out of control. How had this happened? How could someone like him feel that way about her? How could the very thing she ached for more than anything else be standing right in front of her?

"What are we going to do?" she asked, breathless.

"I don't know, but I can't stay away from you. Please don't make me." He ran a hand along the strands of her hair, his eyes locked on hers. Pleading.

She swallowed, then nodded. Deep inside she knew this was a mistake of the colossal variety, but she couldn't care when he was looking at her that way.

Before she could formulate words to answer him, his lips touched hers, swallowing up her next thoughts, her resolve, her very soul. He took her lower lip in his, gently pulling on it, a small groan escaping from deep in his chest. Her temperature shot up, heat suffusing her body. She wrapped her arms around his neck, weaving her fingers through his thick curls, her body melding against his like they were the positive and negative versions of each other, yin and yang.

His kiss became harder, more intense, and his tongue darted out, tasting her, testing her. She opened to him and when his silky, hot tongue thrust inside she felt her knees go weak.

"God," he whispered as his lips moved across her lips and then on over her jaw, behind her ear, tasting, tempting, torturing.

"Marcus," she breathed before she felt herself being lifted onto the counter where the coffee maker was stored. His hands gripped her hips as he pulled her to the edge, pressing his hard length against the seam between her legs.

"Oh!" she cried out as tiny explosions of sparks spread through her body.

"Tell me you want this as much as I do," he growled. "Tell me you feel it too."

She couldn't help but roll her hips against him, the sensation absolutely sublime. "I feel it," she gasped. "So much. I feel so much."

His heated movements became frantic at her words, his hands traveling up to cup her breasts, his erection pushing against her rhythmically. He tugged at her blouse and untucked it, moving his hand beneath the silky fabric until he could pinch her nipple through the satin of her bra.

Renee felt the pressure building in her core. She'd never been this turned on so fast in her life, and she wondered if she were simply going to explode into a million tiny pieces from the intensity of it all.

Marcus fumbled at the buttons on her blouse, finally pulling it down her arms far enough to push her bra cups lower and press his lips to her breast. When he took her nipple into his mouth she knew she wouldn't be able to stop. Everything around them ceased to exist, and all there was, was this—Marcus—his hands, his mouth, her body, their heat.

Before she knew what was happening he pushed her panties aside and touched the ache between her legs.

"Jesus. You're so fucking wet."

"Oh God," she answered as his finger slid inside her tight channel. She rocked against him and he moaned almost as if he was in pain. She reached for his belt, tugging and fumbling to undo it, her focus entirely on one thing—having him inside of her. As she freed him from his pants and reached her hand inside his boxers to stroke him his breath hissed between his teeth.

He slid his finger in and out of her slowly, kissing her lushly at the same time. Then he pulled back and looked her in the eyes, his face flushed, his gaze misty with desire. "I want this, but I need you. What I need matters more. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Time stopped and she knew this was it—her way out. Her chance to tell him they couldn't do this. To say that if they took this step it would ruin any future chance he'd ever have with her. But she couldn't. She knew this was inevitable. Like the cherry blossoms that decorated DC in the spring, or the tourists who flocked to the National Mall for the fourth of July—this moment between Renee and Marcus was going to happen, no matter what.

"I want it too," she answered him softly. "And I need it." She hesitated. "I need you."

He exhaled like he'd been holding his breath for hours instead of seconds. She felt him pull on her panties and she lifted her butt to help as he slid them down and off along with her pumps. He reached into his back pocket and extracted his wallet, watching her with a dark intensity the whole time. Once he'd removed a condom he tossed the wallet over his shoulder, and she couldn't help but giggle. His lips quirked up and he tore the foil with his teeth. It was the sexiest move she'd ever seen.

She reached out and stopped his hands once he’d removed the condom from the wrapper. "Let me," she said, her voice oddly husky.

He smirked and leaned away a few inches, watching intently as she rolled it down his length. As soon as she reached the base, he covered her hand with his. "No more touching or I'll lose it," he muttered.

She wound her arms around his neck. "Did you hear me say I need you?”

"Mmhmm," he rumbled as he put his hands under her ass and lifted her slightly, pulling her past the edge of the countertop. Then he pressed into her, inch by torturous inch, filling her and sending her so close to the tipping point that she contracted once around him.

He was breathing hard, and shaking as he held still, buried deep inside of her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and rotated her hips in a small circle to urge him on. Desperately needing him to move.

And move he did, grunting as he pulled almost all the way out and then pushed back in hard and fast. She let out a breath of relief as he began a rhythm, pounding into her over and over. The tension inside of her coiled tighter and tighter until she dug her fingers into his back and pressed her hips against him as hard as she could. He sensed exactly what she needed and held still again. She cried out as every muscle in her body stiffened momentarily before all the energy focused on her core and waves of bliss rolled through her one after another until she thought she'd collapse from the power of it.

As the surges subsided he moved again, quick, sharp thrusts, once, twice, three times, before he arched up, flexing his neck muscles as he grunted and pulsed inside of her.

He slumped against her, his head in the crook of her neck. She stroked his hair and tried to get her breathing to normalize. His hands were on either side of her hips and he lazily licked up the side of her neck. "I could do that again, pretty soon," he whispered in her ear. "But I'd love to try a bed."

She giggled softly, her laughter covering the sound of footsteps that approached outside the door, the sound of the doorknob turning, the sound of the latch releasing. The next sound however was crystal clear—the voice of Derek Ambrose as he ground out, "What the fuck have you done, Marcus?"

Derek had been shouting at Marcus for at least thirty minutes, and his own throat was raw from the yelling he'd done in return. All he could think about was getting back to Renee. After giving them a moment to get their clothes on, Derek had instructed Renee to "sit" in the lobby, and sequestered Marcus in his office. Once there, he'd torn Marcus a new one and then some.

"She could make a case for sexual harassment and take both of us to court. I can't believe you would do something this irresponsible. There is no woman in the world worth destroying a career over, Marcus. Jesus Christ."

Derek turned away and shoved his hands in his pockets. At least his fists had relaxed. Marcus had wondered if Derek was going to hit him for the first few minutes of the encounter. And no matter how much he might tease Derek about being old, Marcus knew that his brother had one hell of a right hook.

Marcus ground his teeth, his patience wearing very thin. "She's not going to sue us for sexual harassment," he muttered.

"And you know that how?"

"It wasn't like that."

"You were fucking her in my office lobby. Exactly what wasn't it like?" Derek roared.

Marcus had reached the end of his rope, and he needed to see Renee. He stood, his face hot, and his hands shaking from the release of adrenaline. "That wasn't fucking. It wasn't like that. Don't you get it? I care about her. She isn't some fuck to me, and I don't like you referring to her like she is."

Derek laughed harshly. "Oh please. You don't do some woman on a countertop in an office and then get all high and mighty about how people are referring to her."

Marcus snapped, rage coursing through him hard and fast. He saw black spots in front of his eyes and before he could give it a second thought he was across the room, his fist wrapping around Derek's shirtfront.

He gave the older man a small shake, noticing the shock on Derek's face as he pulled him closer and snarled, "What happens between Renee and me, where it happens and when it happens, is none of your business.” He tried to shake him again, but Derek was prepared this time and it was akin to shaking a boulder. They stood, eye to eye, staring each other down and Marcus heard the rumble start deep in Derek’s chest.

“Get your hands off of me or this won’t go well for you,” Derek warned.

The words were out of his mouth so fast they sounded like machine gun fire. “Fuck you,” Marcus spat.

The punch was an uppercut, and Marcus didn’t even see it coming. It didn’t have much power because they were already on top of one another, but it was enough to propel Marcus back into the corner of the desk behind him. He struggled to catch himself before he fell, and in the process knocked over trophies, papers, a laptop, and assorted other items on Derek’s crowded desktop. The noise of things hitting the floor was nearly as loud as Marcus’s oaths as he stumbled.

“What the fuck is the matter with you?” he shouted as he regained his balance. He stepped forward, fists balled and ready to strike, but Derek was looking beyond him. He saw his brother’s face go slack, his hands dropping to his sides.

“Oh shit…” Derek whispered.

Marcus whirled in time to see a sliver of Renee’s face before she turned and ran from the office. A flash of pain and horror that he knew would stay with him for a very long time.

“Dammit!” he croaked as the front doors to the office slammed. He looked back at Derek.

“Go,” his brother said, voice edged with frustration. “Go stop her.”

Marcus ran.