Page 42 of The CEO Enemy

“And you liked what you saw?” I ask in an undertone.

“The jury’s still out.” Our gazes lock. “Yes,” she says, softly, breathless. “Because I always wondered…”

She blinks, as if contemplating whether to share it with me. Just when I think she might have reconsidered, and I’m about to urge her with an “Out with it, now,” she says, “Why didn’t you kiss me that night?”

Not what I expected.

Her breath hitches, and the air between us crackles with anticipation. She isn’t just referring to the clumsy opportunity when she slipped and her chest collided with me, but to her award-winning late-night plea for a goodnight kiss. My veins ignite with heat. My cock stiffens in response to her. Her blue eyes remain fixed on mine, drawing us into a magnetic, charged moment.

“Kissing is something to be done with a clear mind,” I rumble. “I didn’t want you to live with regrets.”

She lifts her head, bringing her lips closer to mine. “I wouldn’t have.” Only a few inches separate our mouths. “Maybe…you know…” she whispers hoarsely, “we should practice kissing for the charity event?”

I can feel her breath on my lips.

All I need to do is dip my head.

Nobody will expect us to kiss at the charity event next week. That’s what my expression tells her.

Her expression nonchalantly tells me she couldn’t care less.

I want to close the distance between us. Not that there’s much of one right now. She lessens it even more by lifting her head a little higher. Now that there’s hardly any space left between us, everything we said about sticking to professionalism doesn’t matter. I think about last night, about picturing her in my bed, my dick inside her, and how hot and heavy we would be. It’d be so easy to follow through, to lock the door to this suite and take advantage of that king-sized bed. Or that bathtub. Or just my strength.

Her eyes grow hooded as they flicker to my lips and then back up to meet my gaze, telling me that she’s thinking the same exact thing.

Her citrus perfume invades my nostrils.

With each breath, her breasts graze my chest.

With each graze, my cock jerks.

Almost instinctively, my hand withdraws from my pocket, and finds its way to cradle her face. She lets out a small gasp. Softly, my fingertips begin grazing her cheek. At that simple contact, I feel her heartbeat echo against my chest, her nipples pressing into me with each exhale.

I cradle her neck and dip my head, slowly.

Deeper and deeper.

Until our lips touch.

When our mouths finally meet, it’s a soft collision.

I’m struck by the feel of her, the softness of her lips, by the taste of her. It’s a subtle mix of coffee and something uniquely her own. It’s intoxicating, a flavor that lingers in my senses. But there’s more. I can taste the tension, the thrill of breaking the rules, and the sheer intoxication of crossing that line. We both know this is forbidden territory.

Neither of us cares.

The moment my tongue finds hers for the first time, she releases a soft moan.

With a delicate urgency, her fingers reach to cling to the lapel of my dark-blue jacket.

We’re not just kissing.

I devour her mouth, and she devours mine.

The more minutes tick by, the more I lose myself, the more intoxicated I feel. My hand holds her neck, then brushes to her throat and from there, slides farther down. We kiss like we’re in a trance, like we’re possessed.

My hand glides over her breast, and her nipple puckers under my touch.

After what seems like an eternity of shameless making out, I start pulling away. There’s an immediate protest. Her hands cling to me, and she utters a whispered “Not yet…”

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