Page 58 of Worth the Risk

“There isn’t enough room in your ass for that stick and my…” I turn back to the reports in my hands, reminding myself notto let her get to me like this because this is when I always lose control.

You also got yourself into this mess by bringing up dating, you fucking idiot! You used to have game.

“And your what?” Her hand is resting on her cocked hip, a smirk playing at her lips. “That’s what I thought,” she murmurs when I don’t give her the satisfaction of a response.

I really do try to stay focused on what I’m supposed to be doing… for at least five minutes, but her snotty little attitude eats at me, and it takes everything I have not to remind her the way she trembled when I was fingering her.

“You know when you taste something so sinfully good?” My voice breaks the comfortable silence that has settled between us. “That kind of flavor that just melts on your tongue, makes your eyes close and maybe a moan even escapes your lips when you’re just thinking about it?” I look up from the paper I’m holding and see Taylor staring forward, her eyes looking straight past the report in her hand. “Thatlick your fingers clean,would be your death row mealkind of delicious?”

“What about it?” Her voice cracks.

“I’ve had that craving on my tongue the last few days.” She’s staring at me, and if she could see the wanton look on her face right now, she’d be mortified. But it’s exactly the look I’m after. I’ve baited her, got her wanting more, and now she can sit and ache.

“I can’t seem to satisfy it no matter what I eat.” I shrug. “Anyway, try to think of something that sounds that delicious for us to eat when we finish this up.” I gesture with the reports, flashing her a brief smile before turning around and focusing my full attention on knocking this project out.

It’s several long seconds before I hear her clear her throat and the slight rustling of papers signals she’s back to work as well.

We spend the next three hours combing through stacks of reports, finally finding the source of where her previous advisor was skimming from one of her investment accounts.

“I’m exhausted.” She yawns, reaching beneath my desk to grab her shoes she kicked off earlier. “And starving.”

“Same.” I stand and stretch, watching her bend over to slip her foot into one of her slingback heels. It’s only now that I notice they’re red-bottomed Louboutins.

Fuck.

My mouth waters. Her matching red fingernails dancing across the delicate gold buckle of the ankle strap catch my eye.

“You still want to grab something to eat?” She slips the other shoe on, standing back up and straightening her fitted black dress into place.

“Sure,” I reply, completely distracted when she leans forward again to grab something on my desk. “What are you in the mood for?” But she doesn’t reply. I glance up at her face, her eyes watching me with a knowing look.

“What are you in the mood for, Austin?”

“I wasn’t picturing you naked in them,” I say quickly, nodding toward her heels. “Well, I wasn’t at first,” I correct, “but fuck it, I am now.” I let my eyes wander slowly up her body, expecting a snarky comment, but she simply ignores my advances, looping her purse over her arm and grabbing her keys.

“We could order something, have it delivered to your place,” she says, her face not giving away whatever is going through her head right now. But once our eyes lock, I see what she’s not saying. What she’s attempting to hide.

“Sounds like a good plan.” I don’t bother to put my office back in order. Instead, I walk us out of my office and into the elevator just a moment later, the energy between us changing by the second.

“What about that Thai place?”

“Mmm. Works for me.” I agree, punching the button to close the elevator doors.

They close and the numbers start to descend. With everyone else gone for the night, the elevator makes no other unscheduled stops.

We’re almost to the garage.

My hands are in my pockets.

My eyes are no longer able to stay forward.

“Are those the ones you bought when you broke up?” I nod toward her shoes, the muscle of her slender calf flexing slightly.

“Yes.”

“They look nice.”

“Thank you.” Her tone is clipped if not a touch strained.

---