Gabriella

I’m finding it difficult to catch my breath. Harrison’s kissing me, and it’s only been about ten seconds, but he’s already set me alight. He’s pushed me up against the shelves, and he’s sliding his hands beneath my shirt, and they’re skating across my skin, sending little shivers radiating out through me.

I lift my arms and slide my hands into his hair, tilt my head, and stand on tiptoes so I can deepen the kiss. Jeez, I want this man so much. I’m filled with an exultant delight that he seems to feel the same way. Since spotting him the other morning with Colette, I haven’t seen him for a few days, and I assumed that he hadn’t even given me a second thought. But when he appeared in the hallway just now, as soon as I looked into his eyes I knew he felt the same way I do.

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him, even though I know there’s no hope of this developing into anything. I can’t help it. It’s like he’s moved into the dusty corners of my mind and hung the walls with images of him and us together until it’s overflowing, crowding out every other detail of my life. I’ve been distracted, walking into rooms, and forgetting why I went in there, making phone calls without a clue as to why I’m calling, not wanting to eat, lost in a dream world.

And now, with his lips on mine, I feel complete.

Crap. One fucking night with this guy, and I’ve gone and fallen for him.

Actually, I think I fell for him the day I started at the firm, and I’m even more crazy about him now I’ve been to bed with him. He’s just so… manly. If the test for masculinity was like one of those fairground strongman machines where you have to hit a pad with a mallet, Alex might have clocked seventy to seventy-five, but Harrison would have sent the puck ringing the bell and then shot it off into the stratosphere.

It’s dumb and idiotic and stupid and other words that mean the same thing, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I couldn’t turn around and walk out of this room now if my life depended on it. There’s no future in this relationship, but I don’t care. We could be blown out of the sky by an asteroid tomorrow. I could be hit by a bus. But right here, right now, Harrison is holding me, and that’s all that matters.

We haven’t said anything yet, but there’s no need for words. Our bodies are having a conversation of their own. Tongues delving, hands stroking, my nipples hardening, an ache growing between my thighs. This isn’t enough. I want more.

I glance at the door and double check the handle—yes, he’s forced the chair against it. Nobody’s coming in anytime soon, so I start fumbling at his belt.

He lifts his head and stares at me for a moment, and then his eyes light up and his lips curve. He helps me out with the belt and I push down the zipper, and then I release his erection from his boxers. It’s thick and long and hard as a rock, and I sigh with relief when he takes out his wallet and produces a condom.

While he removes the packaging, and rolls the condom on, I slip off my panties and hitch up my skirt. He sweeps the contents of the table onto the floor, lifts me onto it, and within seconds he’s inside me.

I gasp and my head falls back, and he just stands there for a moment as we both enjoy the sensation of being joined in such an intimate way. When I tighten my internal muscles, I can feel him, all the way up—it’s amazing.

Harrison groans softly and begins to move, and soon he’s thrusting firmly, while his hands unpop the buttons of my shirt to reveal my bra. He slides his hand inside the cup, and the feel of his warm fingers on my skin makes me shudder.

He kisses me, strokes me, moves inside me, and it’s only minutes before his thrusts become firmer, and I know he’s not far from climaxing. Luckily, I’m there with him, and I clench around him in glorious bursts, feeling his hot gaze on me, before he stills and then his fingers dig into my hips as he comes.

We’ve done it all silently, in a haze of sexual desire, and it’s only as it begins to fade that I blink and look around, and realize where I am. The floor is covered with boxes of paperclips, fold back clips, staples, rulers, and erasers where he swept them all off the table. It’s hot in here, and the light’s not particularly flattering. But it was the most erotic encounter I’ve ever had, and when he withdraws and then folds me in his arms, I can honestly say I’ve never felt happier.

“Come to my place tonight,” he murmurs in my ear.

I nod. There’s no point in a big discussion about how pointless this is or what our expectations are. We both know that we’re wandering through a maze and the turning we’ve taken isn’t leading anywhere. But neither of us cares. Does having no hope of tomorrow mean we shouldn’t enjoy ourselves today? Of course not. I decide that I’m going to make the most of whatever this man is willing to give me, and I have a feeling he’s thinking the same.

After a minute or two, he moves back. I button up my shirt, and he disposes of the condom and zips up his fly. He helps me pick up the boxes of paperclips from the floor.

Then he removes the chair from the door, opens it slowly, and checks outside. Giving me one final glance over his shoulder, a beautiful smile breaks out onto his handsome face before he finally disappears.

*

“In the stationery room?” Colette’s eyes nearly fall out of her head. “I was joking when I suggested that.”

“It was convenient.” I hadn’t meant to confide in her, but I must have returned to my desk looking as if I’d gone out into a cyclone, and she knew instantly that something was up. “I’m going to his place tonight,” I admit.

I’m not sure whether she’s going to cheer or give me a warning glance. She does neither. Instead, she gives me an appraising, interested look. “Your idea or his?”

“His. I didn’t need much convincing.”

She grins. “Hoping for another seven rounds?”

“Jeez, I don’t know if I’d have the energy. Maybe I’ll just cook him dinner.”

She laughs. “Well the way to man’s heart is either through his stomach or his family jewels, so it looks as if you have both bases covered.”

“I’m not aiming for his heart,” I tell her.

“Of course.” She doesn’t look convinced.

I’m not convinced, either. But I don’t tell her that.

Not that I’m planning anything. Even though I’m crazy about him, I have no intention of having my heart broken. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to make sure he’s crazy about me when we eventually part ways. If he’s going to haunt my dreams until my dying day, I want to make sure I do the same to him.