Page 19 of Rockstar's Accidental Marriage

"Maybe I just like pushing your buttons," I say, my voice dropping lower.

"This is exactly what I'm talking about." She lights her chin haughtily. "You can't keep undermining me just because—"

I step closer, reaching out to take her hand. The tension between us rises. "Just because what, Emily?"

"Because..." Her eyes drop again to my lips, then snap back up. "Because you think it's funny to get under my skin." She pulls her hand away.

"Trust me," I step closer, backing her against the desk, "there's nothing funny about what I want to do when I'm under your skin."

Her breath catches. "Sam..."

That's all it takes. I lift her onto the desk in one smooth motion, stepping between her thighs. Her skirt rides up, revealing a hint of lace that makes my mouth go dry.

"Tell me to stop," I whisper against her lips.

"This is completely wrong," she breathes, but her hands are already gripping my shirt.

"Completely," I agree, before capturing her lips with mine.

The kiss is everything we've been dancing around for weeks—hot, hungry, and just this side of desperate. She tastes like coffee and something uniquely Emily that drives me crazy. Her fingerstangle in my hair as I deepen the kiss, and the little moan she makes in the back of her throat nearly undoes me completely.

She breaks the kiss, panting slightly. "Sam, we can't—the band—"

"Can't what?" I growl against her neck, trailing kisses down her throat. "Kiss my wife?"

Her hands push against my chest, but there's no real force behind it. "That was supposed to be annulled—"

"But it wasn't." I catch her chin, making her look at me. "You're still Mrs. Ryder, whether you want to admit it or not."

"A half-drunken Vegas wedding doesn't count—"

"Really?" I slide my hand up her thigh, feeling her shiver. "Because I have a piece of paper that states otherwise."

Her hand flies to her throat, "I just... I haven't had time to—"

"To what? File for a divorce?" I smile against her skin. "You’ve had over a year."

"I..." She gasps as I nip at her pulse point. “We shouldn’t—”

But my mouth covers hers roughly, stopping her protests. She finally begins to kiss me back, but then she stops with a hand on my chest, pushing me away.

“We shouldn’t—this is… is… totally unprofessional.”

"Stop hiding behind that word." I pull back to look at her, my hands framing her face. "This thing between us? It's real."

"Sam..."

"Tell me you don't feel it, too." My thumb traces her bottom lip. "Tell me you don't think about us."

"I think about it," she whispers, her fingers curling into my shirt.

"Then stop fighting this." I press my forehead to hers. "Stop fighting us."

"The band—"

"Will deal with it." I brush my lips against hers softly. "It’s no big deal."

She pulls back slightly, narrowing her eyes. "What?"

---