Chapter Fourteen

Reid

I want this woman.

I want her in a bad way, and my tongue licks hungrily into her mouth even as I tighten my grip on her hair. Her hand is warm on my chest, but her elbow is stiff, her entire body is stiff, and I don’t accept this from her. I want her submission. I want her to admit she wants like I want, so I deepen the kiss, my hand settling between her shoulder blades, molding her close.

She moans into my mouth, a sexy, aroused sound, but she still fights me. She still shoves weakly at my chest, and her eyes meet mine. “This is just—”

“Hate sex,” I supply. “Works for me.” My mouth slants over hers again, and this time, she doesn’t hold back. She kisses me like she did in that hotel room, her hands sliding under my jacket, over my shirt, and I am hot and hard and ready to be inside her.

I reach up and skim her jacket off her shoulders, my mouth barely leaving hers. I cannot get enough of how she tastes, I damn sure can’t get enough of how she feels, and my hands are all over her, caressing her breasts, my finger ripping away a button of her silk blouse.

“You owe me a button and alterations,” she hisses, tugging at the buttons of my vest. “And I hate this thing.”

I walk her backward and press her against the desk. “And I hate these damn buttons,” I say, yanking two more off.

“Reid!”

I snap the front clasp of her bra free.

Her hands go to my arms and I pant out, “I’ll buy you another.”

“What are we doing, Reid? We work together. You’re my—”

“Boss,” I supply, cupping her backside and molding her closer. “Yes. I am. Start remembering it.”

“I remember, and hate that fact, quite well.”

“Like you hate me?” I challenge.

“Right now?” she says. “Yes.”

I tangle my fingers in her hair again, dragging her mouth to mine, “Exactly why we need to fuck,” I say, cupping her breast and pinching her nipple. “So we can both stop thinking about how much we want to be naked together.” I kiss her again, swallowing another of her soft, sexy moans while yanking her skirt up her hips, over the lace of her black thigh-highs to her hips.

With that sweet little ass of hers finally bare to my touch, I palm it and squeeze. She yanks hard on my tie, and I have no idea how that makes me hotter and harder, but it does. She does. Every taste of her. Every sound she makes. Everything she does. “Can you just be inside me already?” she demands.

I could, I think. I should want to, but that question, that need in her to just do this and be beyond it and me, grates down my spine in an unexpected way. I don’t like it. I turn her and press her to the desk, forcing her to catch herself on the smooth surface. Her ass is perfect, and that too should please me, but it pisses me off. I smack her backside and she yelps, looking over her shoulder.

“Did you really just—”

I yank the red silk of her panties, and the tiny strings rip under my tug. She gasps, and I step into her, smacking her backside again. “Yes,” I say, my hand sliding around her, fingers cupping her sex, my lips by her ear. “I did, and,” I stroke through the slick wet heat of her sex, “you liked it.”

“I didn’t—”

I turn her, and kiss her, my tongue doing a quick, deep slide before I demand, “What happened to trust? I can’t trust you if you lie to me.”

“I don’t lie,” she says, yanking at my tie again. “Maybe you just think I lie because that’s all you know.”

“And yet, I never deny anything that feels good the way you just did.” I lift her and set her on the desk, spreading her legs and settling on my knees in front of her.

She tries to squeeze her legs together but it’s too late. My hands catch her knees, opening her wide. Her eyes meet mine. “You want to pay me back, don’t you? That’s what this is?”

“You mean lick you until you almost come and then cuff you to the chair and leave you? I could. You wouldn’t even stop me.” I drag one of her legs over my shoulder, her hips shifting forward, and I lick her clit. “But I’m not going to pay you back,” I say, the taste of her on my lips rocketing through my senses. “I want you to come on my tongue again.”

“I don’t believe you,” she whispers, swallowing hard. “I want—”

“Finally, you say it. You want. I want.” I lick her again, and she tilts her head back, moaning softly, and that easily she’s giving me that submission I want from her. Pushing her to give me more, I suckle her, stroking two fingers along the seam of her sex and then sliding them inside her. She arches her hips, lifting into my mouth, into the pump of my fingers and I love this about her. She’s not shy about wanting. She might resist, but once she commits, she’s all the way.

“Oh God,” she cries out, and then her body is tensing, only seconds before she spasms around my fingers, her legs quaking, and I do own her in this moment. Fuck. I want to own this woman more and that pisses me off. This is a fuck. This is one fuck. I don’t ease her into completion. I strip away my fingers and mouth and while she gasps, I shrug out of my jacket, remove my wallet, yank out a condom, and stand up.

Her eyes meet mine with a punch between us that I tell myself is just how badly we both need me to be inside her. That it could be anything else is why I grip her hair, and not gently, reminding her of who is in control. “Now I taste like you again,” I say, “but I never forgot how you taste.” I close my mouth over hers, a wicked hot kiss, that equals an explosion of lust between us.

I’m kissing her. She’s kissing me. My hands are all over her, but hers are on me, too. Stroking my cock through my pants, her fingers driving me crazy. At some point, I rip open the condom and she isn’t shy. She’s the one that unzips me. She’s the one who pulls my erection free, her soft hands stroking along my ridiculously hard length. It’s her who puts on the condom and me that cups her backside, pulls her to the edge of the desk and then, when I should just drive into her, fuck her finally, here and now, I tease us both. I stroke my cock along her sex until she hisses, “Enough already. Or not enough. Reid, damn it, I—”

My mouth comes down on hers, my tongue wanting to taste my name on her lips while I press my cock inside her and drive deep, burying myself to the hilt. Our lips part and our foreheads press together, and suddenly we’re breathing together, not moving. Why the hell am I not moving? And yet, I’m not. I’m savoring rather than devouring, and that’s not what this is. This is sex, hard, ready now sex, and I pull back and thrust into her. She moans, and I drive again, pressing her backward, forcing her to hold onto the desk behind her, not me. But I don’t let that become an escape. I’m right here, I’m kissing her. I’m licking her nipple. I’m pumping into her, and yet, it’s not enough. I slide my hand between her shoulder blades and lift her off of the desk, holding all of her weight. Somehow we’re just there, melded close, and breathing together again, and then kissing again, our bodies more grinding than pumping us into that sweet spot of release.

Carrie gasps and stiffens again, and the minute she begins to orgasm I’m right there with her, my body clenching with the force of my release. I hold her tighter and at some point, I set her back on the desk, gripping it on one side while my other palm remains between her shoulder blades. My face is buried in her neck, and I come back to reality to the feel of her fingers flexing on my shoulders. I want to kiss her again and that is not normal for me. I should pull out. I should end this as fast and hard as we just fucked, and move on, but I don’t. What the hell is this woman doing to me? I linger there with her, her body soft and yielding next to mine. I inhale the floral scent of her, and I know, I know that I am not done with this woman.

That’s a problem.

Fuck.

I pull out of her, lifting her off the desk and then I walk to the trashcan, dump the condom, and right my pants, pressing my hands on the desk when I’m done, letting my chin touch my chest. Pulling myself the hell together while she dresses. She isn’t my enemy, but neither can we ever be more than sex. There are reasons, too many reasons, personal reasons of my own, that damn debt between our families, and I can’t forget those reasons, ever. I won’t now.

I lift my head to find her back to me as she finishes dressing. The minute she turns, I push off the desk and straighten. “Fire them. Don’t let them back in the building and then go home.”

Her eyes meet mine, emotions glistening in their depths that I can’t read, and I want to read them when I should not. “Right,” she says. “Fire them without proof. That makes me an excellent CEO candidate.”

I could leave space between us, but I won’t let my need for this woman, or this woman herself, hold me captive. I round the desk to stand in front of her. She doesn’t move. She doesn’t back away She won’t let me intimidate her. “I’m always thorough,” I say, “as I’m sure you’ve now figured out. Proof is already in your inbox.”

She studies me and then says nothing before heading to the door, which for her feels like a problem. I catch her hand. “Don’t even think about not coming back tomorrow.”

She whirls to face me. “Right. Because you hold me captive. You hold my company captive, so yes, I’ll be here, but consider that my last duty fuck.”

My lips quirk and I know this reaction will piss her off, but I can’t stop myself from pushing her, and for a reason. She’s pushing me. She doesn’t get to push me. She doesn’t get to break my rules. “Right,” I say dryly. “Duty fuck.”

“You’re such an asshole and I don’t know why I—”

“—already want me inside you again? Or is it my tongue you already want again?”

“You’re about two seconds from a knee in the part of you that was just inside me, and the irony of that placement would really amuse me right now. Let me go, Reid.”

Her eyes gleam with anger on that command and just that easily, I’m hot and hard again. Exactly why I release her, but she doesn’t run like another woman would. She stands her ground. She looks me in the eyes and claims her space and mine, and it’s sexy as hell. I want her again, and in the seconds that tick by, a band of lust and anger hums around us, about to snap. She knows, too. Her chin lifts slightly, a silent “fuck you” before she turns and leaves.

The minute she’s gone, I walk to the window, but I don’t see the skyline before me. I think of that moment when I was on my knees between her legs. I could have denied her. I could have teased her and then denied her, but I didn’t. I wanted her to remember how good I can make her feel. I wanted her to remember me making her come, not me fucking her in an office. I wanted her to want more when the idea of fucking her, was to end my damn obsession with being inside her. With everything about her.

I failed.