The semi-hard-on made it impossible to concentrate.
I’d been back at my desk for almost an hour, and I hadn’t gotten a damn thing done. I still had the same training record spread out in front of me that I’d been starting when Casey had walked in. Nothing was happening because my mind was still firmly planted in the passenger seat of Casey’s car.
I shifted in my chair, grunting a few curses. Why had I gone to lunch with him when I could’ve just ordered pizza and eaten in peace? Because now I had a mind full of all the things I’d been trying to ignore, and then some.
Licking my lips, I adjusted the front of my pants. I swore there’d been a moment right before I’d gotten out of Casey’s car where I’d thought he might kiss me. Or hell, I might kiss him. Everything Clint had warned me about had gone up in smoke when I’d caught myself staring into Casey’s eyes, especially since Casey had been staring right back.
Thank God one of us—I still wasn’t sure who—had come to his senses. He’d left, I’d come up to the office, and any minute now, I’d pull my head out of my ass and get some work done.
I closed my eyes as I adjusted myself again. Why had I worn jeans this tight today? Oh. Right. Because I hadn’t expected to see Casey, never mind spend time in close quarters with him.
Now I was horny. As if I hadn’t been horny as fuck lately anyway, especially since the moment Casey had hobbled into the office on my first day. All the mental gymnastics I’d deployed to keep my mind off him and what he did to my libido? Out the window. One long look in the car, and I was climbing the walls.
Maybe I needed to go out and get laid tonight. I didn’t dare go near a bar—not while I was still fighting the craving for alcohol-induced numbness—but there were apps. I had three of them on my phone. Wouldn’t take much to find a guy and get some ass.
Except the possibility of having my dick down someone’s throat tonight didn’t do me any good right now.
I pushed out a breath, staring plaintively up at the ceiling. I’d been doing so good. I hadn’t let myself fantasize about Casey while I was jerking off. My mind sometimes wandered away with all kinds of pornographic thoughts about the two of us, but I never let that happen while I had my dick in my hand. I just couldn’t cross that line and make it that much harder—er, make it that much more difficult to keep my mind off the things I would do to that man’s powerful, sexy body.
I shivered. Goose bumps prickled my skin, and I kneaded my thighs just to keep my hands from straying to my crotch.
Oh, screw it. This hard-on wasn’t going away until I did something about it, and I doubted I’d be any good for driving with the front of my jeans stretched this tight.
Without another thought, I got up and left the office. On the way to the men’s room, I looked over my shoulder half a dozen times. I didn’t know why I bothered. The construction workers were all on the second floor, and it had been dead silent down there for so long they might have gone home. There was no one else on my floor. Not unless they were ninjas or something.
Or SEALs. Stealthy . . . dangerous . . . hot . . . SEALs.
I shook that thought away as I slipped into the men’s room. Could I get fired for this? Yeah, probably. But there was no one else around and I was a hell of a lot more likely to get fired for something I’d do while I was too turned on to concentrate than for rubbing one out in a bathroom stall.
As soon as the stall door was latched behind me, I unzipped my pants, and . . . Oh yeah. Yeah. There was no way I could wait until tonight for this. The first stroke had my head spinning, and I had to brace a hand against the cold tile wall to keep my balance.
I gave in. Completely. I’d been fighting to get him out of my head ever since my first day in the department, but now I didn’t bother. I let all the fantasies come crashing in at once. Blowing him right there at his desk. Kissing him in his car. Bending him over something, or letting him bend me over, and fucking until neither of us could move.
Eyes squeezed shut, I let go of a groan. I was too far gone to be self-conscious, especially as my mind’s eye showed me Casey sucking grease off his finger, and that was just . . . Christ, it should not have been that hot.
I grunted softly and pumped my dick harder as those images flashed through my mind. I didn’t care anymore if him licking grease off his finger should have been hot, or if there should have been anything remotely erotic about him absently sucking on a pen, or if . . . God, everything he did was sexy, and it didn’t matter why.
“Fuck, Casey,” I murmured, and the sound of his name tumbling off my lips, my own voice all strained and needy like Casey was really here, sent me over the edge. I grunted into the silence, coming hard like I almost never did when I took care of it myself, and a split second of wondering how much better it would be if I were with Casey made the shudders even stronger.
As the aftershocks rippled through me, I pressed my forehead against my arm and gulped in air.
My mind was as sluggish as my body, but the mental porno hadn’t gone away. As the dust settled and my knees stopped shaking, Casey still peppered my mind’s eye—naked, partly dressed, hungry, hard, coming on me, coming in me.
I pushed out a ragged breath.
Well, I didn’t feel the need to go hook up with someone tonight.
But I hadn’t even begun to take the edge off how much I wanted Casey.