Page 72 of The Secret

“Okay.” I rolled my eyes, trying to look away and diffuse the unbearable tension that was causing my heart to beat faster than a rocket during take-off. I tried to focus on anything but him getting infinitely closer to me.

“I. Don’t have. A fucking. Girlfriend.” His words were slow and punctuated with each step he took, bringing him closer to me. I found myself backing up, hitting the cool, flat surface of the refrigerator.

“Okay, I heard you the first time.”

“I have Bell. I have you. And that’s it.” His bare feet stopped on the outsides of mine, boxing me in as he dipped down to nearer my height, which was closer than usual seeing as I still hadn’t taken my shoes off.

“Me?”

“Yes, Kit. You.” His finger pushed a stray hair away and tucked it behind my ear before grasping my chin gently between his fingers, forcing the direction of my attention back to him. “You.”

“Murray…”

His other hand moved to the pulse pounding below my ear, tracing along the column of my neck with a featherlight touch, his long fingers wrapping around my nape and pushing into my hair. His thumb started stroking along my jaw line, and I forgot how to breathe. It was entirely possible I hadn’t taken a breath for a while and was on the verge of passing out.

His eyes dropped to where my bottom lip was caught between my teeth, using his thumb to pull it free.

“For weeks I’ve been desperate to know how you’d feel, how you’d taste on my tongue. After Saturday…”

I finally managed to breathe but it caught in my throat.

His eyes shot up to mine, the emerald had turned dark and stormy like a forbidden winter forest. “Tell me no. Tell me to stop if you don’t want this.”

I could barely hear him over the thrashing of my heart, of the blood whooshing in my head.

“Tell me, Kit.”

But my ability to speak had vanished along with my ability to think, breathe, or do anything that didn’t involve being utterly consumed by him.

“Tell me.”

“I want this.” If I’d thought Murray’s voice had been unrecognizable moments ago, it had nothing on the croak I’d just let out.

My words were a starting pistol. His mouth crashed to mine, and I had no power to do anything but let it. With a single groan, he gained access to my mouth, the warmth of his tongue tingling as he stroked against me, tasting like expensive whiskey and the best decision of my life. Because with one swipe of his tongue, my worries, my self-warnings that making out with your boss was a bad idea, were silenced.

But Ihadbeen wrong about it being the best kiss I’d ever had. This was the best kissanyonehad ever had. The best kiss in existence. His lips were better than I’d imagined them to be, soft and firm all at the same time, consuming me, owning me with his mouth. Taking exactly what he wanted.

And I wanted to give it. I wanted to give him everything.

My moans echoed off the hard surfaces of the kitchen as his hands moved under the shortest dress in existence, grabbing my ass and lifting me until I was wrapped around a minimum of twenty-five square inches of solid, hard-earned muscle. Sandwiching me against the fridge, his hands threaded through my hair, tilting me for more access because the past three minutes hadn’t given him enough. A profound rumble let up from his throat, adding kerosene to the fire already burning inside me, desperate for some friction against the flimsy scrap of material that were my soaked panties and what I knew was his rock hard cock.

His strokes slowed, becoming more gentle but no less intense until he pulled back, taking my lower lip with him as we broke apart.

“Kit…” he growled, his lips moving to my neck before inhaling deeply, “we need to stop. I need to stop now or I won’t be able to stop.”

He looked up, his eyes lust-drunk and hooded, his lips as swollen as I knew mine were.

“Murray?”

His forehead fell against mine on a heavy exhale, his breath warm against my already burning skin. “I need to stop. We need to stop. We’ve both been drinking and I don’t want that on my conscience. When this happens, I want it to be with a clear head.”

I loosened my grip around his waist and he put me down. I didn’t dare look at what I was certain would be a very large wet patch against his shirt. I wasn’t entirely sure where to look, because I didn’t want him to see the disappointment stinging in my eyes, but he took care of that with a tilt of my chin.

“Kit, it is going to happen again.” His lips brushed mine in a gesture that melted the vestiges of my insides that hadn’t been eviscerated the first time round.

“Okay.”

He moved me out of the way of the fridge, opening it and retrieved two bottles of water, handing me one. “I’m going to walk you to your room and say good night, before going to my room and getting into bed,” he grinned, “and I’ll pick you up in the morning for our road trip.”

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