Page 80 of He's The Reason Why

He took a half step back and looked at her with a dangerouslight in his eyes. “I thought you were helping me with work today, not my shirt.”

She huffed her impatience and gestured at him to get on with it.

He stood there looking stubborn and smug all the clichés of temptation and didn’t shift the shirt even an inch. “We really shouldn’t be doing this.”

She could walk out. That would teach him a lesson.

Screw that.

She wasn’t in the mood for games. She was in the mood for sex, and the faster they got to it, the better.

It felt like they were in an elevator and they’d hit the stop button and they only had the time it would take for the fire department to show up.

She pulled her shirt up over her head and tossed it to the side. It landed on a pile of paper that promptly fell over. “Yes, we really should. Right. Now.”

His gaze fixated on her breasts. “Just want to be sure we’re on the same page.”

She pointed at his shirt. “Why is that still on?”

He pulled the shirt halfway up then stopped. It was just enough to give her a tantalizing glimpse of abs that looked so defined, so incredibly hot that they should be illegal.

“Maybe we should wait.”

He smirked and jiggled his shirt up a little further but didn’t take it off.

“Maybe we should.” She unclasped her bra and let it fall to the floor. Air rushed across her breasts and teased her into full attention. If that didn’t get him naked, she’d have to seriously rethink everything she knew about men.

He gazed down at her, gratifyingly dumbstruck by the view, and then he ripped his shirt the rest of the way off. “Or we could, maybe, just this one time. You know. Just for fun.”

“Right. No pressure. No strings.” She wasn’t looking for a relationship right now, but being around Blake so much the past few weeks had pointed out exactly how long it had been since she’d had sex, and, damn, watching him take his shirt off was the most erotic thing she’d ever seen.

His shirt fell to the floor in a heap next to the whiteboard. A couple of sticky notes fluttered down on top of it.

She ran her hands over his trademarked, award-winning abs. “My God, they’re real. I thought they were airbrushed.”

“Not even a little bit.” He kissed her. It was hungry and greedy and not at all gentle.

Her head spun, and she forgot how to use words for a bit while the rest of her body tingled in anticipation.

God, he smelled good, like vanilla and apples and woodsy-fresh air.

He lifted his head to look at her with lust-filled eyes. “So we agree?”

“Just friends blowing off steam.” She dragged his head down for another kiss. He was so tall she had to stand on tiptoe and he had to bend at an awkward angle and their noses got in the way, but his hands…she moaned when they found the small of her back and pressed. “Youhavebeen under a lot of stress lately.”

“And you did…greatwork today.” Blake planted little kisses down the side of her neck.

“We both did.” She gasped when his hand brushed across the tip of her breast.

“You sure?” His lips found a sensitive spot on her neck.

“Yes, dammit. Yes.” She took his face in both hands and locked her lips on his.

He tasted like the lingering sweetness of soda and bad life choices, and it lit a fire inside her that needed immediate attention.

He spun her around and pushed her up against thewhiteboard, which toppled backward. They fell with it then slid the rest of the way to the ground.

They landed hard on the wood floor and rolled over sticky notes until she lay flat on her back and he was awkwardly propped on one arm as he tried to avoid landing on her.

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