Her eyes flash to mine before she dips her head, hiding a smile. “And why would I want to marry you, pretty boy?”
I bite my lip, rocking in my chair, trying not to giggle like a child. Something about this interaction has me downright fucking giddy. “I’m great in bed.”
“Mhmm.” She lets out a disbelieving sigh, but her blush deepens.
“Please,” I huff, feeling more confident than ever before. “Don’t sit here and try to pretend you’ve never thought about it.”
She bites her lip, refusing to look at me, though I watch her eyes track the flex in my arms where they’re folded behind my head. It’s the same way she watches my hands when I type, the movement of my tongue when I lick my lips because I’ve caught her staring. She’s cataloging my body to imagine all the things I might be able to do with it.
I unfold my arms and run my palms down my thighs, and she watches that too.
“See? You’re looking at my hands again.”
Maya’s eyes snap to mine, the gold in them blazing bright. “They’re nice hands,” she admits, nearly breathless.
“I can do a lot of nice things with them,” I respond gruffly.
The air between us grows thick, the unspoken question hanging like a tether neither of us is sure the other wants to pull. I lean forward, looking up to where she still sits on the table in front of me. Slowly, I raise my hand and place it beside her thigh, lifting my pinky to make contact with her leg.
I pause there, allowing her time to move away, to tell me no. But she doesn’t.
I circle my finger over the fabric of her tights. They’re sheer, accented by a maroon-colored sweater dress and a pair of knee high boots I’d crawl to see her bare in.
“Easton,” she breathes.
I immediately stop, but before I can pull my hand away, she’s grasping the collar of my pullover and hauling me up to stand. I follow her lead, stepping between her legs and reveling at the way they spread for me.
One second of suspended time allows her eyes to meet mine, a year and a half of pent up tension and daydreams clashing in our gaze before she’s pulling my shirt again, forcing my mouth to hers.
Her lips meet mine—a soft dichotomy to the fierceness with which she claims my mouth. Her hand curls around the nape of my neck, long nails twisting into my hair as she brushes her tongue across the seam of my lips possessively.
“Fuck, Maya,” I groan, spurring her on as she grips me tighter, letting out a whimper of her own.
I slide my hands up her thighs, palms skating over the sheer tights and soft fabric of her sweater-dress until I’m grasping her hips. I tug her into me, our bodies flush, and I feel her gasp at my hard length now pressing into her. I drag my lips from hers,brushing along her jaw and down her neck, savoring the taste of her sweet flesh beneath my tongue.
She runs her fingers through my hair, thighs tightening around my waist. “I never do this.”
“Thank God,” I rasp against her skin.
I don’t ever want to think about another man touching her hips or having his mouth on her flesh. I sink my teeth into her collarbone, desperate to be the only man doing that to her too.
“Rules,” she says, causing me to pull back and look down at her. Her hair is ruffled, pupils blown wide, taking up her dark irises as she breathes heavily, staring at me with a lust-laced gaze.
“Rules?”
Maya nods. “This is a one-time thing, we’re not going home together, and we never speak of it again.”
“Even if I do a really, really good job?”
She huffs a laugh, shaking her head.
“Okay. We never speak of it again, unless…” I smirk. “We both cash in on that marriage pact when we’re forty. Then, I’m going to bring up this night every chance I get until you let me repeat it over…” I bring my hand to her neck, gently closing my fingers around her throat. “And over…” I lean in, pressing my lips to her ear. “And over again.”
“Easton,” she breathes.
“Yeah, Maya baby?”
“Shut up and fuck me.” She pulls back, bracing herself back against the table behind her as her legs spread wider. The sweater dress rides up her thighs, revealing smooth, dark skin.