There’s a news media shit storm at my doorstep, my brother can show up here at any time, and yet here I am, allowing Liam to pull me to stand between his legs. Heat spreads out from my core. It defies logic that I can think about sex at a time like this. But anytime Liam’s around, my body physically aches for him. I’m in the wrong outfit to be here. It’ll be way too easy to straddle him, lift up my skirt, drag my panties down my legs, and take what we’re both craving.

That’s my arousal talking.

I watch as his eyes blaze a trail up my body to my eyes, then he surprises me by landing his gaze on my locket. He runs a hand up my arm and carefully takes my most treasured piece of jewelry between two tentative fingers, staring at it.

“You’ve never told me about this.”

“I wear it a lot.”

“I noticed. And it anchors you, somehow. Centers you.”

I nod for two reasons. First, if I say a word, I’ll end up crying. Anytime I talk about Grams, the floodgates open. Second, Liam has never been this observant. It’s as though he’s seeing me for the first time. Taking me in. All of me. Or maybe I’m the one just noticing it now.

“It’s beautiful on you.” He releases it but lets his fingers rest at the spot on my chest for a moment. I don’t know why, but the fact that he notices the locket does something to me. It brings me closer to him, even if I haven’t shared how much it means to me. He slides his hand up to cup my jaw, and my eyes flutter shut. His touch weakens me. All I can think about now is how much I want his embrace to wrap around me and somehow buffer me from the media frenzy that’s on its way to us.

This time, I make the first move. Rolling his chair back a bit, I drop to my knees and start to work his zipper. Our eyes lock as his cock springs free from his boxers, never straying until my lips and tongue make contact with the salty bit of precum at the tip. He moans in response to the small sounds that come from the back of my throat each time I lower and lift along his thick shaft, and when I swirl my tongue around his velvety head, his hand buried in my hair, guiding me at the pace and angle that he loves most. Each time he hits the back of my throat, I moan. My panties are drenched from need. I want him to fill me until my inner walls feel that tightness from his massive cock. And when I can’t wait any longer, I look up into his wild, lust-filled eyes. He gives me a nod and uses his hand buried in my hair to pull apart, at which point he tucks his hand under my armpit and hoists me up from my kneeling position.

Lowering to his lap, I shuck off my suit jacket and begin unbuttoning my shirt. There’s no use fighting what’s between us. And he must agree because he pulls my face to his, crushing our lips together. His hands slide up my hips, and each one grabs a handful of ass as our tongues play. With a firm hold on me and a soft smile against my lips, he picks me up, wraps my legs around his waist, and carries me over to the sofa. There’s a gleam in his eyes as he pulls from the kiss and takes a seat, keeping my body tight to his. That look makes my heart hurt, and my stomach does a flip.

I have butterflies floating around in my chest for the first time in a long time.

God, it scares me.

It thrills me.

When was the last time I felt this alive? Have I ever?

And why does it feel like the sex is way more intense as his fake girlfriend than as his real fuck buddy?

That thought plays on repeat. My eyes snap shut as he drags my panties to one side and positions himself, plunging deep inside me in one sharp motion.

“Ride me.” He presses his lips to my breast to drive his point and his cock home. Then my hips roll, grind, and jerk, finding our perfect pace. It’s the moves that make my pussy throb and his cock stiffer than any other time. And as he drags me down his shaft over and over again, teasing, tasting, sucking and nipping my breasts, we go over the edge.

“This is turning into a habit,” I tease, my breath coming in short pants after some time. “If we keep it up, we’ll get caught.”

“I don’t give two fucks if they do. It’ll serve them right for walking in on me in my office. Plus, no one will dare blame the happy couple for wanting each other all the time.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“And you’re my bad girl. Get back to your office before I take you hard again.”