Chapter 16

Cole made it nearly a week of following Penelope’s stupid no-sex-on-weekdays rule.

He didn’t like it, but he’d seen from the stubborn set of her pointy little jaw that it was that or nothing, and, well…for reasons he didn’t care to explore too closely, nothing wasn’t an option when it came to Penelope Pope.

Not when he’d spent the better part of the last three and a half days trying not to think about those little sighs she made when he licked her nipples, or the way her hips went crazy when he fingered her.

Hell, he’d almost thought they could pull it off.

They’d made it through Monday’s staff meeting, Tuesday’s team lunch, and Wednesday’s after-work happy hour without him hauling her into a deserted corner and kissing her senseless.

Somehow he’d managed to sit beside her for hours on end as they reviewed images and copy and stats, without sliding his hand under her skirt and seeing if she was as wet as he was hard.

And then Thursday happened.

“Tiny,” he barked, the second he stepped off the elevator. “Where the hell have you been?”

She blinked in surprise at his harsh tone. “I was at lunch.”

He’d known she was at lunch. He also knew who she was at lunch with.

Cole’s gaze shifted to Lincoln, who was standing beside Penelope and looking at Cole with a knowing smirk.

“We would have asked you to join,” Penelope said, clearly confused at his anger, “but you were on the phone, and we had to be back by one, so—”

He had been on the phone. He’d been trying once again to get hold of Bobby, only to find out that his brother was busy. Again.

Cole was happy his brother had a life. Had friends. Was happy that his brother was happy.

It was just…

For years, Cole had known that he was all his brother had. That his brother needed him.

But there were times when Cole was struck with the realization that Bobby was all he had. His only family.

And Bobby never meant to blow him off—his brother would die if he thought he’d hurt anyone’s feelings, much less Cole’s….

And yet, hurt his feelings were.

Which put him a damn shitty mood.

“Relax, Pen,” Lincoln was saying to Penelope. “We haven’t done anything wrong.”

He punctuated this statement by placing his hand just briefly on Penelope’s back and Cole had the strangest urge to drive his fist into Lincoln’s face.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Lincoln was his friend. Penelope was his…friend.

They were both his colleagues, and they were absolutely allowed to go to lunch together.

And yet…and yet—

He scowled at Penelope. “Do you have a few minutes? We have to make that US Open layout by end of day.”

“That’s going to take four hours?” Lincoln asked in sham confusion, glancing at his watch.

Cole ignored him, storming toward his office and hoping more than he should that Penelope would follow.

“I’m really sorry we didn’t wait for you,” Penelope said as she came into his office.

Cole shut the door without replying.

She touched his arm. “Hey, are you okay?”

He frowned at the question. Cole Sharpe was always okay. Cole Sharpe was the one who made everyone else laugh, who put everyone at ease, who always had the quick comeback and the ready smile.

But sometimes…sometimes, he wanted to lean.

Just a little. Or, at the very least, to simply be, without always having a quip at the ready. And when she was looking at him with those damn big eyes, all wide and compassionate, and hell, caring, he wanted to lean on her.

“Cole?”

“Fuck it,” he muttered.

His hands wrapped around Penelope’s arms and he jerked her toward him and claimed her mouth.

It was a graceless, hungry kiss. It had none of his usual finesse, but he needed it. Needed her.

He was so lost in the taste of her that it took him a moment to realize she’d gone still against him.

He pulled back slightly and gave her a questioning glance.

“Cole, you know the rules,” she said, her eyes locked on his mouth. “No blending work and pleasure, no sex on weekdays—”

He dropped his hands from her arms, releasing her, but he didn’t step back. There were mere inches separating them, and he wondered if she felt the heat between them as acutely as he did.

How had this happened? How was it that this sweet, feisty tomboy could turn him on just as easily as she turned him completely inside out every time she looked at him?

“Come on, Cole. Don’t do this.” Her voice was a whisper now.

His hands itched to reach for her again, but he forced himself to stay. To wait.

He grinned in triumph as she shrugged slightly, letting her purse fall to the floor with a quiet thump as her arms lifted to wind around his neck.

Their lips collided as they devoured each other.

Was it possible it had only been three and a half days since he’d last tasted her lips? Since he’d last run his hands over her lithe body?

It felt like forever.

He wrapped his fingers low on her hips, holding her snugly against his already hard cock as her hands roamed restlessly over his back.

“I hate this suit jacket,” she said with a little gasp, when he pulled back and bent his knees slightly to get at her neck. “I mean, I usually like it, because you look all corporate and yummy, but it’s in my way, and I can’t touch you.”

“How do you think I feel about all your clothes?” he muttered.

She was wearing a short-sleeved purple top with just the slightest V-neck. His mouth forged a trail downward until he could lick just under the fabric of her shirt, tasting the sweet upper curves of her breasts.

She made a breathy, sighing noise. “We really shouldn’t. We’re at work, and anyone could walk in.”

“First of all,” he said, kissing his way back up her neck, “don’t think for one second that we’re the first ones. Jake closes his office door every time his wife ‘brings him lunch’ and her hair is never quite as neat when she comes out. And I have it on good authority that the boss has gotten lucky in his office once or twice.”

She pulled back. “Cassidy? No. He wouldn’t. Sex in his office, really? He’s so controlled.”

“Not around Emma he’s not,” Cole said confidently, pulling her back in for a long, wet kiss.

“What’s the ‘second of all’?” Penelope asked, when they parted to breathe.

“Hmm?” Cole asked, his hands sliding up, inching ever closer to her breasts.

“Well, you said ‘first of all.’ That implies there’s something else.”

“Ah, right.” He stepped nearer, backing Penelope against the door. “Second of all, there’s a lock on the door.”

They both watched as his hand slid down, twisting the lock with a quick flick of his fingers.

And then she launched herself at him, all but climbing up his body, trying to reach his mouth.

He laughed a little, scooting his hands under her ass and pulling her up as he sandwiched her body between the door and his body as they kissed.

Cole barely registered the sound of one of her shoes falling off and hitting the floor when she wrapped her legs around his waist. He was too busy touching her. Tasting her.

Wanting her.

Finally he couldn’t take it anymore. He needed her naked. Now.

He stepped back, and she made a mewling sound of protest as he set her back on the floor.

Cole locked his eyes on hers as he slowly lifted her shirt over her head. Her bra was pink and lacy. Pretty, but he was far more interested in what lay beneath, and he sent the bra in the same direction as her shirt: off.

“Cole,” she whispered, clearly embarrassed. She lifted her hands to cover herself, but he batted her hands aside. If anyone was going to put hands on her breasts, it was going to be him.

He rubbed the heels of his palms against her, his cock going even harder when she cried out. He’d never been with a woman this responsive. And suddenly he wanted to know if she was always this way, or if it was just with him.

He hoped to God it was the latter.

He toyed with her in soft teasing touches before dipping his head and putting his mouth on her. So obsessed was he with the feel of her beaded nipple against his tongue that he didn’t realize she’d undone his pants until her hand slipped beneath the waistband of his briefs and palmed his cock.

“Fuh-uck,” he said, his head falling back as she stroked him.

He saw the pleased triumph in her eyes, and he let her have her moment. Let her palm torture him for several moments until he was embarrassingly close to coming.

Cole gripped her wrist, tugging her hand away from him, as he swiftly assessed his options. He had a condom—several of them, actually. He’d learned his lesson after last weekend.

His cock hardened at the thought of turning her around, pressing her against the door, and taking her from behind. But logistically speaking, their height difference would make that difficult.

Instead, he tightened his grip on her wrist, pulling her toward the desk. He kissed his way down her body until he knelt in front of her, his hands quickly ridding her of both pants and panties as well as the remaining shoe.

He meant to stand back up. Meant to lift her up onto his desk and bury himself inside her—

Instead, he leaned forward and let his tongue find her slit. She gave a sharp cry, and he licked her harder, palming the back of one of her thighs and lifting her leg to the side so she was wide open for him.

Her hands found his head for balance, her nails digging into his hair as his tongue circled her.

Going down on Penelope Pope in his office was definitely going in Cole’s catalog of best erotic memories.

He was damn close to coming in his pants just by licking her. This was madness. Fucking madness.

Cole stood, taking a condom out of his wallet before throwing off his suit jacket. Penelope shoved his pants down around his hips as he freed his cock with his hand and rolled on the condom.

She hopped up onto the desk, slowing spreading her legs and crooking her finger at him. Cole groaned as he stepped closer, positioning himself at her wet entrance. “I thought you said you were no good at this,” he growled.

Her hands found his shoulders. “Guess I just needed to do it with the right guy.”

Her words sent an odd thrill through him, and he rewarded her by sliding into her with a slow, slick thrust.

When he was all the way inside, he rested his forehead against hers, putting her hands around his neck. “Hold on.”

His palms slid down to her ass, pulling her even more tightly around him before he pulled back, and thrust home again, harder this time.

“Jesus,” he whispered, already on the verge of losing it. “You’re so tight. I can’t—”

“Hard and fast,” she whispered against his ear.

Cole needed no further encouragement. He slid his thumb down to her clit, pressing it in relentless circles as he drove into her at a merciless pace.

Holding off was the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life, but he waited. Waited until he heard her cry out, waited until she contracted around him.

Then he let himself go. He came with a soft roar, burying his face in the crook of her shoulder, too damn far gone to let himself be embarrassed by his lack of control.

They clung to each other for long moments after, both of them panting, neither speaking.

It was Penelope who pulled back first, and Cole felt a stab of annoyance when she didn’t meet his eyes.

She scooted off the desk and shot him a quick, embarrassed look before kneeling down to pick up her pants.

No. There would be none of that. No embarrassment.

He knelt beside her, refusing to let either of them be embarrassed by their nakedness or what had just transpired.

He hooked a finger under chin, lifting her eyes to his. “You’re the hottest lay I’ve ever had, Ms. Pope.”

It was the right thing to say. She let out a surprised laugh, but he could tell by the warmth in her eyes that she was pleased with the compliment.

Cole just hoped she knew he meant every damn word.

He handed her clothes to her, then turned slightly so she could dress in some semblance of privacy.

Cole frowned a little as he tugged his own pants back up over his hips, wondering, not for the first time, who or what had made Penelope think she was anything less than a sexy, hot-blooded woman. That Evan bastard back in Chicago?

He wanted to ask her, but it felt like a boyfriend kind of question, and she’d made it perfectly clear she wasn’t looking for one of those.

Great. Fine. He certainly wasn’t in the market for a relationship.

He wasn’t commitment-phobic per se, he just hadn’t yet been in a relationship that wasn’t a hell of a lot more headache than it was worth.

Cole mentally braced himself for Penelope to go skulking out of his office, probably to avoid him for the rest of the day, if not the rest of the week.

But she surprised him. When he turned back around, she was fully dressed, looking completely composed as she scooped her purse off the floor and walked toward his desk.

She set the purse on his chair then went up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Is it slutty if I say thanks?” she asked.

He grinned. “If it is, I like slutty.”

Penelope grinned back at him, then went to unlock the door, swinging it wide open as though nothing out of the ordinary had just transpired.

When she turned back, she smiled her friendly work-Penelope smile at him. “So. Should we review those page layouts?”

Cole shook his head at how easy this all felt as he went around to the other side of his desk.

He didn’t know exactly what this was.

But whatever they decided to call it—or not call it—he could all too easily get used to it.