The touch of his lips lit a fire in me, heat burning through my veins, my skin flushing from my face to my neck and my breasts, his tongue teasing gently against my mouth. I kissed him back, savoring the taste of him, opening and letting his tongue explore, gently at first, and then urgently.

I gripped his strong shoulders and pulled him closer, loving the feel of all that muscle, all that power, beneath that fine fabric, beneath my hands. I felt so small against him, cherished and desired as his hands clutched at my hips with fierce possessiveness, as if I were the only thing he wanted, as if he would never let me go.

I felt his arousal long and hard against me as he ground his hips against mine, and I moaned into his mouth, breaking away for a second to nip at his ear.

He gasped, and I began to nibble lightly on his neck, reveling in those deep gravelly moans that worked from his throat, groans that made my nipples harden and my pussy clench in anticipation. His hands slid teasingly across my stomach, making small circles before traveling upwards to my breasts, tracing their curves through the thin silk, my nipples hardening further against the soft fabric and the teasing pressure of his fingers as I whimpered.

Then they slid lower, down between my thighs. Oh God.

“Do you want more?” he whispered, teasing over my pajama bottoms, and all I could do was nod.

“Say it,” he demanded huskily. “Say that you want me touching you.”

“I want it,” I breathed, the words leaving my mouth before I was even aware I had planned to say them.

His hands slid down and under the hem of my pajama top, lazily making their way up my stomach, his fingernails lightly running over my skin, stroking my stomach, tantalizing me with just a brush of my breast, just a slight dip below my waistband…I pushed myself against him, eager, no, desperate—I needed him to touch me, to grab me, to take me—

He grabbed my hip with his left hand and pushed me back against the wall, just too far away to press myself against him, just close enough that he could keep tormenting me. He bent his head, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of my neck like a brand, and I whimpered. “Please…”

“Say that you want me,” he growled. “You want me inside you, you’re wet for me.”

“I want you,” I whispered, all my breath stolen by the intensity of his gaze.

He sucked at my neck and I almost sobbed at the sensation, like an electrical line between where he touched me and my nipples and lower: I was sopping wet between my legs and I wanted him so badly, he sucked harder at my neck and his fingers began making slow lazy circles over my breasts, not quite touching where I wanted them to, where I needed them to—

“I want you, Grant” I said again, and he pinched my nipple hard and I bucked against him, crying out.

I could feel his smirk against the skin of my neck as began to lick and kiss and nip in earnest, his breath coming in hot hungry pants that set my skin on fire as he traveled downward, his tongue dancing under the neckline of my pajamas and then oh God, that perfect mouth closing over my nipples through the silk, through the sheer mesh of the lingerie, sucking lightly, so lightly, still teasing me, making me beg—

“I want you!” I pleaded. I strained to press against him, but he was too strong.

Oh God, I needed to touch him so badly. I slid my hands down his strong shoulders to squeeze that perfect ass; he grabbed my left arm, but I was too quick with my right and before he could stop me I was rubbing his cock through his trousers, squeezing that thickness, my mouth watering at the thought of getting down on my knees and taking him between my lips, sucking on the head and running my tongue over the sensitive underside, his hand fisted tight in my hair as I took him deep into my throat—

“Naughty girl,” he murmured, “getting ahead of yourself.”

But he didn’t stop me. And he sounded a little out of breath himself.

“Please, Grant,” I whispered. “Please, please, let me just, let me—ah!”

He was sucking my nipples hard through the fabric again, his lips intent, my brain shorting out as he teased my sensitive tips with his teeth.

“Grant, we—”

He pulled my pajama top up and slid the bra down, and then his mouth was on my breasts, no fabric separating us, nothing but the sensation of his hands and his lips and his tongue and his teeth on my skin, squeezing me, tasting me, marking me—

One of his hands dipped into my pajama pants and pressed against me through my underwear; I was already dripping through it. His fingers circled my clit and I arced into his hand. “Please, oh please, so good, it feels, it feels, it feels—”

He cut off my words with a passionate kiss that left me as dazed and shaking as what his hands were doing, and then before I knew it he was on his knees in front of me, looking at me as though I were a triple-decker chocolate cake. As if I were a supermodel. As if I were a goddess.

He ripped my pajama pants down and devoured me with his eyes, those stormy seas become mirrors that reflected my desire back at me. His hands trembled as they framed my hips.

“Look at those panties.”

I sent up a silent prayer of thanks to Kate for providing me with such hot underwear, but then Grant slid them down and I felt his warm breath coming in small pants against the dampness between my legs.

“I am going to make you scream,” he growled. It was a promise.

And before I could speak another word of protest or desire, his tongue was teasing at my clit, stroking my folds and then diving deep within me—my hips quaked as ripples of heat and desire shot through me, fire consuming my flesh—

“Oh God, Grant, so good, more, so so so good, more please, I need you!”

Grant’s tongue sped up in its rhythm, stroking and caressing and consuming me with an intensity I hadn’t known I’d been yearning for my entire life.

I tossed my head back and forth, pinned to the wall by his strong hands, helpless before the pleasure he lavished on me. Nothing could feel this good, nothing had ever felt so good—God, that perfect mouth on me, wanting me—he sucked, and licked, and laved as though I were a rare and luscious delicacy, the most delicious thing he had ever tasted, and I pressed myself shamelessly against him, panting, whimpering, so wet, God I’d never been so wet in my life—I was moaning, whimpering, pleading—“Oh God yes, more, yes more, please, oh God, Grant, Grant, Grant—”

He reached up to twist my nipple as his tongue plucked at my clit before diving deep within me again, and I screamed as stars burst behind my eyes I came hard against his mouth.

His fingers pressed hard into my hips, possessive, as he stood back up, that cocky smirk on his face making my core tighten in anticipation of a second round.

“You taste so sweet,” he said, his voice that low bedroom rumble like foreshadowed thunder.

I glanced down at the fabric straining the front of his trousers.

“You want it,” he said, and it wasn’t a question this time.

Oh good God I wanted to fuck him so bad I might faint. I wanted to take him deep within me again and again until I was coming so hard I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see anything but stars. I wanted him up against this wall and then on the couch and the floor and the table and any other surface we could find. I wanted to suck on his neck below his ear until he moaned the way I had, I wanted to suck on his cock until he begged me to let him deeper, I wanted to dig my fingernails into his back as he came inside me, losing control just this once in his life, his hands squeezing my breasts as he came, losing control for me, because of me, just me—

I nodded, shaking with desire.

His eyes still locked on mine, Grant reached down and undid his trousers.

Grant Devlin reached down and undid his trousers.

My boss reached—

Oh God.

Oh shit.

Oh no. Oh no no no no no.

What the hell had I done?

I twisted out of his grip, grabbing my pajama bottoms and yanking them back up. Thank god for elastic, ran randomly through my mind. “I have to go!”

“Don’t fight this, Lacey.” His hand was on my shoulder, tracing lines on the sensitive skin of my neck, red and smarting from the attentions of his mouth—no! Don’t think about it. Don’t. “You want it. You’ve wanted it for a long time. And I’ll give you what you want. You’ll like the way I give it to you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said as firmly as I could. “This relationship needs to stay professional.” Could he hear my voice trembling?

If only his hands didn’t feel so good there, if only I didn’t know how good they felt other places, if only I hadn’t been such a fucking idiot and come out here and put myself in this situation.

I felt tears prick my eyes. Oh no, oh no, I couldn’t cry. Not now, not here, not in front of him.

“Oh dammit, Grant, weren’t you listening to yourself before? The company—God, it means so much. We’ve both sacrificed so much and I nearly just ruined—we can’t. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”

“I remember two of us in that little scene,” Grant said. He took a step closer; I could feel the heat of him behind me, his breath on my ear. “I could refresh your memory…”

“No! I mean, no. You never would have done this if you hadn’t been so bored.” Each word that I forced out was like a nail I was hammering into my heart. “We shouldn’t have done this. We can’t do this ever again. I’m not one of your flings.”

There was a sharp intake of breath, and I knew he was opening his mouth to argue, but I was already out the door and into the night, where the darkness would keep anyone from seeing my tears as they fell.