Bryn
I have a corner office, on the opposite corner of Christos’s floor, until the store and offices are ready. The warehouse we decided upon is across the street, and I can watch from my desk as the workers get it ready for us to move in.
I’m reviewing some of the designs with Sara—who’s already started to help me as my PA between dog-walking rounds—when I have a call.
“Mr. Christos,” Sara says, wiggling her eyebrows.
I bite down on my lip and shoo her away, answering with a cheery, “Good morning, Mr. Christos.”
“We have a problem.”
I’m surprised by his tone of voice. He sounds bleak and dreary.
“What is it?” I ask, instant concern lacing my question.
“I can’t get over the way you hum when you’re in bed beneath me.”
Pudding becomes my brain, my heart, my bones…
“Oh, that is a problem,” I say cheekily, propping myself up on my desk and staring down at my legs as if he could see me. “Would you like me to stop by your office later today and try to brainstorm a solution?”
“No. No solutions. I want you in my office stat—I need you to do it again…and again…” he purrs silkily, “and again…”
Goodness. This man! I swear my cheeks could not possibly get any redder. “I’ll be right there,” I say in my most professional tone, and I press my thighs together as I hang up and organize my desk. Then I leap to my feet, head to my bathroom, fix my hair, and head over to his office.
“I’m glad to see you weren’t detained today,” he says.
I realize he’s referring to our first meeting, to which I’d arrived late. “Oh yes. No need to go to the corporate bathroom anymore when I have my own.”
“That’s right.”
“No need to endure gray shoes and pretty shoes and tattoo fucking for fifteen minutes when I’ve got my own man to do.”
He throws his head back and explodes in laughter.
I smile, biting my lip, waiting for him to recover. He’s still smiling as his eyes fasten to mine, and his smile gradually fades. “Come here.” He calls me forward.
I probably shouldn’t continue to mix business with pleasure, in the office, but backing out now seems near impossible. I’m already breathing differently. My whole body feels primed for him—for now. I couldn’t back out now, not even if I wanted to—a part of me needs this too much. I want it too much.
“We’re in the office.”
“And.”
“And we’re making a habit of this. A bad habit.”
“Come here, bit. I’ll make you feel good.” There’s certainty in his words, and I glance past my shoulder and notice he’s removed his suit jacket. He approaches, pulling me back—flush against his body. His mouth presses to my forehead, and just that tiny contact makes me groan.
His eyes fully heavy and dilated as he slips his hand between my legs. He pets me there, rubbing my clit with his thumb.
The touch feels completely wicked—too good. He tugs the zipper of my jeans down and gives them a little yank, and before I know it, he’s pulling them off my legs.
I forget to be embarrassed because he slides down my legs and leans his head in.
He breathes against my curls before his tongue snakes out. He loves kissing me there. Tasting me there.
He wedges his shoulders between my thighs and parts them with his hands, settling in perfectly between my legs. I’ve never been eaten out like this—no rush, only licking and tasting, probing and teasing.
I want to feel close to him. I want to feel his strength and borrow it.
My attraction to him is undeniable, the most overwhelming feeling I’ve ever experienced in thirty years. But now I know that I’m falling in love with him, and it exponentiates everything this guy does. It’s frightening, but giving in feels liberating. I’m tired of fighting it, of being scared, of being sad and alone for years. And now here’s this guy, biting my clit, lightly—and I’m constricting into a tiny ball.
I give in and for a moment, I just want it all. I want all of this man. I want to know what he wants, what he dreams, what makes him up, I want to dissect him and let him dissect me and then I want to put each other together with the wrong pieces, so one piece of him ends up in me, and some of mine end up in him.
It’s an obsession, an addiction, a complete infatuation.
I press him closer, groaning.
He stands up all of a sudden, shoots me a languorous, half-mast stare, a small smirk on his lips that tells me he’s very satisfied with how hot I am for him.
With a gentle but firm nudge of his feet, he toes my leg farther apart, revealing my sex a little more.
A shiver of nervousness runs through my body. He notices, smiling a crooked smile as he watches me squirm. “I don’t know that I can go off with your assistant so close…”
He grabs me by the butt and boosts me up, kissing me as my sex settles against his hardness.
“You won’t have any choice,” he rasps wickedly.
“What is this?”
“Karma.”
“Haha, really.”
“It was a long time coming.” He shakes his head in warning. “I’m to have my way with you daily for as long as you live.”
“Christos, not against the door,” I gasp, pushing at his shoulders so he lowers me.
I’m flushing, head to toe, as I head to the opposite wall.
“You’re ravenous,” I accuse.
“I am.” His eyes glint. “And I’m only recently discovering I’m jealous too. Even of Jensen.” He stalks forward, smirking. “Possessive—I’m feeling very, very possessive too.” He stops before me and tilts his head as he regards me—head to toe and without an ounce of apology. “I want you in every way possible, Bryn.”
I think I’m breathing a little harder than usual, but I’m trying not to. “Like what ways?”
He runs his gaze over my face, letting it linger on my throat. “Tie you up, grab you by the back of the neck, so you can hardly squirm. Have my way with you for hours.”
“You’re kinky.”
“I’m not kinky.”
“Well…do you want to gag me too? Typical guy, wanting the woman to just shut up and look pretty and take it.”
“No. I enjoy that mouth of yours too much.” He circles the back of my neck with his hands, as if measuring how delicate it is. “I want you undone. I want to know that you trust me. I’ve had enough time to fantasize about that, you understand.”
“It’s about trust,” I say.
“It’s about watching you lose control. Letting yourself get taken by me, no fear.”
“You’re the last man I’d trust to do anything. You’re intimidating. Unpredictable. Reckless.”
“You liar.” He slips his fingers into mine, and my heart kicks as he tugs my arms up.
“What are you doing?” I ask breathlessly.
He secures my arms above my head with one hand, grabs his tie, and slowly unknots and slides it from under his shirt collar. Then he wraps it around my wrists.
He smiles when I squirm, and he grabs my thighs and guides my legs around his hips, then holds them locked by the ankles in one of his hands at the small of his back.
“That can’t be too hard, can it?”
“I want you,” I groan.
He laughs against my cheek, his lips in my ear. “You trust me, little bit?”
I groan and move my head in both yes and no directions.
I’m wet but pretending this is all a game, which I guess it is.
“If I do this, and you get ten minutes to do whatever you want with me, I get the same with you.”
“That’s not happening.”
“Are you afraid of not having control?” I ask.
“I want my hands free to touch you.”
“I bet I can make you forget all about touching me when you’re being touched the way I want to touch you,” I bluff.
He laughs, shaking his head, his eyes green with the sunlight streaming through the window and shining. “This is about you. Giving yourself to me.”
“No, it’s about you,” I contradict.
“Yeah, it is too,” he says, eyeing me possessively.
His eyes scan me slowly, secured for him.
I watch his face, concentrated, as he pulls off his belt and ties it at my ankles. His jaw is set at an angle, his forehead furrowed slightly in concentration. God, a man is tying me, what the fuck is wrong with me? And I’m secretly thrilled about it. Thrilled by the care he puts into it. He’s measuring if he can fit in one finger, adjusting so that it’s not too tight, not too loose.
“You’ve never done this before?” I ask.
He doesn’t look at me as he continues fastening the belt. “I am now.” He grins; his gaze darkens when our eyes meet.
“Why me?” I swallow.
“For the same reason you’re here with me,” he says softly.
“What’s the reason? I really am here only because I’ve lost my mind.”
“I lost that years ago.” He smiles, his eyes shining again. For a moment I believe he’ll tell me something tender, about our past. He doesn’t. “I’m here because you give me a hard-on the kind I’ve never had in my fucking life. And I enjoy my hard-ons.” He smiles, and then looks at me. “You look sexy like this.”
“Thank you. Seeing as I don’t have a mirror to check how I look, I’ll have to trust you on that.”
“You’ll have to trust me with many things by the time we’re through.”
He bends his head, seizing me by the cheeks, looking into my eyes. “What’s the rule on kissing.”
“Kissing is…” I hesitate. “A must.”
He’s laughing at me with his eyes. “I thought so.”
My attention falls to his lips even as I feel his attention drift down to my lips too. I start salivating at the mere idea—my pulse skipping in anticipation of his kisses. His delicious kisses.
He holds my jaw, and now that my arms and ankles are fastened, he has his hands free to run them down along the inside of my arm, caress the sides of my breasts.
I’m breathing hard, my breasts suddenly in his hands, his breath touching the peaks of my nipples as he tugs my shirt down and pops them out of my bra.
I watch his dirty-blond head as he ducks, and I feel so full of wanting and waiting.
“I’m falling for you, Christos,” I gasp.
He stops, his lips parting for a second as he raises his head.
The flash of raw emotion in his eyes nearly unravels me. I suppose it’s a good thing I’m tied up, all around him, because that’s all that keeps me in place as he strokes his knuckles down my cheek and curls one hand around the back of my neck, bending to tease my lips with a languorous brush of his.
“I could not be happier about that. What I feel for you is so fucking real and true, bit.” He holds the back of my neck in his warm hand, meeting my eyes for a long moment.
He unfastens his pants, sheaths himself, and fills me, and as he does, he growls against my lips. I let go a noise, part hum, part groan, against his fiercely hot kisses as he holds me tied and wrapped around him. “Finally, I got you, girl. Finally, every intoxicating bit of you is mine…”
The heated possessiveness and the blatant tenderness shining in his eyes takes me to the edge—and his next thrusts takes me over it. He thrusts again, as if he knows exactly how to move, how to take me, fill me, so that there’s no other thought but him, so that it’s hard to believe he wasn’t made to fill me…made just for me.