Page 8 of Hidden Confessions

The air shifted between us, a new energy cracking in the space, charging it with something I couldn’t describe. Whatever it was, I was feeling it, and I was sure Spencer did too.

His gaze lowered to my mouth, lingering there as he drew in a shaky breath through his parted lips.

My god. I can read this expression on his face.

He wanted me to kiss him again.

“Spencer...” My voice trailed off. I wanted to kiss him too.

But I wanted to know that when I did, he’d like it.

And it would be . . . the truth.

His eyes flicked to mine. Expectant. Then he nodded.

That was all the permission I needed. My mouth was on him that instant.

A muffled moan escaped his lips, and fuck me, it went straight to my cock. My fingers dug into his hair, gripping the silky strands to angle his head so I could properly feast on that delicious mouth.

He tasted like wine and sin and everything I imagined it would be. It tasted just like him. Fascinating.

I could not get enough. The way he sucked on my tongue, like he’d been longing for it for so long.

Threefuckingyears.

Damn you, Spencer.

I was confident he could feel my arousal. Hell, I was hard as a rock.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to do this,” I whispered against his lips, my hot breath mixing with his.

Spencer groaned. That groan struck something deep inside me.

He had no damn idea how hard it was to keep myself professional around him when all I wanted was this—to have him in my arms, trembling and desperate, looking at me with those wild, hungry eyes like I was the only thing he’d ever craved.

How far could we take this?

Office sex wasn’t my thing normally, but I feared if I let go now, I may never have this chance with him, never have him this vulnerable in my arms, risking it all. Thank heavens this floor had no CCTV.

Grabbing his hips, I guided him backward until we bumped into the desk that was behind him. I fought the urge to rip his shirt off just to have more access to him. While he had given mehis consent to kiss him, I didn’t want to push it any further than he was comfortable with.

But I didn’t want to let my assumption stop me. I’d rather ask than learn another three years from now that he’d wanted more with me tonight. If that happened, I think I’d actually wring his head off.

“I want to rip your shirt off,” I said, watching his reaction for any sign that would indicate I was crossing the line.

He didn’t budge. He only stared back at me with this raw lust and desire in his eyes. Hell, if I knew leaving would let me see the real Spencer Faulkner, I would have done so the very month we started working here.

“I want you.” His voice was barely a whisper. “I want you so bad.”

The words shot through me like a thunderbolt. I pulled back slightly, allowing my lips to gently brush against his.

“Tell me, what exactly do you want? Spell it out for me, Spencer.”

“I want you to fuck me,” he answered with no hesitation whatsoever. “I want you... I want you inside me.”

My grip tightened on his hips. The need to tease and play with him was so strong, almost instinctive. I wanted to press him for more, to watch him fumble over his words for me.

“Is that so?” I trailed my fingers down his jaw, all the way to his lips. “How badly?”

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