Page 39 of When Hearts Ignite

Her smile is a jolt of electricity to my heart, sending it off in another flurry of erratic beating. “This little boy is loved, I’m sure of it. I can’t imagine a world that wouldn’t love this innocent boy with a huge heart, a heart he keeps hidden from view.”

Her throat ripples as a flush spreads on her skin like wildfire. I see the swath of pink swimming from the creamy skin peeking out from the collar of her blouse to her slender neck, then to her smooth face. A swarm of tingles spreads throughout my body, obliterating all common sense, and all I can do is stare at her, memorizing the way her thick lashes fan across her face, the darkness of her pupils encroaching on the vivid purple, the small beauty mark at the edge of her lips, drawing me in.

The tip of her tongue darts out, the motion capturing my attention.

A few crumbs and a smear of peanut butter are stuck on her plush bottom lip.

I reach out before I can think otherwise, my finger lightly grazing the lips tormenting me the last few weeks, slowly wiping off the peanut butter. Her eyes flare and she intakes a sharp breath. Her legs squirm in her chair and her thighs clench.

Holding my breath, I continue tracing her lips far longer than necessary, reveling the softness and the texture. My finger sizzles from the contact. A sharp need throbs in my chest, heated blood circulating in my veins, and my groin flickers to life. Her lips part in a small moan, the sound hardening my cock in milliseconds.

Letting out a ragged breath, I dip the tip of my index finger into her mouth, my eyes flaring when I feel a hesitant but quick swipe of her tongue on my flesh, the sensations shooting straight to my cock, which roars to full mast. Lurid images of her dropping to her knees and wrapping those plush lips around my throbbing dick have me gripping my free hand on my chair, my body shaking with restraint.

I want to haul her against me, grind that little body on my cock. Make her scream in pleasure as I wring out orgasm after orgasm from her, knowing anyone could step in at any moment. And then I want to do it again.

“Steven,” she whispers, her eyes glazed over.

“You’re right,” I rasp, my voice hoarse as I lean in, slowly caging her in her chair. Her head falls back against the headrest. I bring my finger up between us, the tip still shining from that tortuous lick.

A taste of her.

Her lips part, her eyes darkening and she whispers, “I’m always right.”

Slowly, I slide my finger into my mouth and suck on the tip, my tongue swirling around the digit, tasting the sweetness of her mixed with the lingering taste of peanut butter.

Grace moans and lets out a shuddering exhale. I can see her beaded nipples saluting me in this position, with her head on her chair, her chest arching up.

I can smell the need from her, and fuck, do I want to respond.

“You’re right,” I repeat, my rock-hard dick threatening to break free from my pants, “perhaps the little boy didn’t need hugs…maybe he just needed a friend who understood him.”

I continue to lean down, my face hovering mere inches above hers, far too close for friends, but fuck who am I kidding here. My eyes drift to her lips again.

Plump. Shiny. Inviting.

So fucking tempting.

“A friend.” Her voice is a whisper, her eyes fluttering shut.

Our chests touch, her nipples grazing me through our clothing, and I groan, the deep rumble sounding foreign to my ears.

I dip closer, my mouth watering for another taste, a more thorough taste.

Clang. The harsh sound of the door opening, hitting on something, is piercing in this heated silence.

We pull apart with a jolt and Grace snaps up in her seat, her chest lifting and falling rapidly. My breathing is labored, like I ran up thirty flights of steps even though nothing actually happened. My pulse pounds in my ears.

“Mr. Kingsley,” Hayley greets me, her eyes taking on a shrewd glint as she notices a flustered Grace sitting as stiff as a statue, her face beet red. “Grace.”

I clear my throat and straighten to my full height. Keeping my torso away from her line of sight, because there’s no way I can hide the flagpole sticking out in my pants right now, I reply, “Hayley. You’re in early today.”

“Wanted to prepare for our meeting to discuss the Scott investments and the TransAmerica takeover in two hours. Going to review the documents the team prepared for me just to be thorough.” She keeps her gaze on me, but I can see the wheels turning in her head as she’s no doubt wondering why her boss is sitting with the intern in her cube so early in the morning.

“Thank you. Keep up the good work.”

Hayley nods and with one last lingering glance at both of us, she disappears into her office.

Grace trails her fingers over her hair, as though her ponytail was dislodged in the last few moments of…nothing, and yet, everything. “Mr. Kingsley,” she addresses me, even though the flush still lingers on her face.

---