Page 35 of Pulling Heartstrings

“Because I’m willing to bet you were planning on bringing in twice as much as you did today out of spite.”

“No?” She says it like a question, and I can’t help but grin at her.

“As I suspected.” There’s a sliver of space on the desk that’s not occupied by her things, and I squeeze my laptop into it. Then I grab the extra chair I found in the storage room and take a seat across from her. “You forget, teapot. I’m eager to get my hands on”—my eyes move up and down her body before I lick my lips—“anything of yours.”

“You always have to make everything sound so dirty.” Her cheeks are bright red as she types on the keyboard in front of her and pretends to ignore me. Try as she might, I know she’s not as unaffected as she pretends to be.

“Me?” I shake my head as I open my laptop and pretend to work. “You’re the one that begged to be in the same office as me.”

I don’t have to look up to see her glaring at me, I can feel it on my skin, and it makes me grin harder.

“What was it you told me? You can lie to yourself but don’t lie to me. Because we both know I wasn’t the one begging.” She’s smug as she leans back in her chair, but she takes it too far when she tries to put her feet up on the desk.

“Bronte, don’t!” I shout, but it’s too late. The motion sets the chair off balance, and before she can stop herself, she’s tumbling backwards.

I’m rushing over in an instant, but I’m too late to catch her before she hits the floor. When I get to her side she’s on her back, and the chair is sideways next to her.

“Talk to me. Where does it hurt?” I run my hands down her arms before I put a hand on the back of her head.

“Where is my pride located?” She groans and closes her eyes. “That’s where it hurts the most.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I did the same thing the first time I sat in that chair.”

Her eyes open, and she blinks a few times. “Actually it does.”

“Stay still for a second,” I tell her when she tries to sit up. “You might have hit your head.”

“I’m fine.” She tries to wave me off, but I hover over her so she can’t.

“Bronte.” My voice is deep and demanding, and when her eyes snap to mine, I love the power it gives me. “Stay still. That’s an order.”

“Okay,” she says softly and relaxes against the floor.

When my gaze travels down her body, I notice that her dress has bunched up around her waist and her legs are bare. Seeing all that beautiful smooth skin makes my mouth water, and I can’t stop my hand from moving to it.

“I should check you for injuries.” I swallow hard as I pull the hem of her dress the rest of the way up to reveal her white cotton panties.

“Marcus.” Her voice is barely above a whisper.

“Let me touch you,” I say, almost as quietly as her. The hand I have on the back of her head moves to her neck. I rub my thumb across her chin while I stare into her eyes. “I’ve waited so long.”

She doesn’t tell me to stop as I release the dress at her waist and move my hand between her legs. I keep staring into her eyes as my fingers trace the edge of her panties and then over the cotton covering her pussy. Her eyelids flutter as I gently touch her there, feeling the soft material dampen as her desire grows.

“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve imagined this?” I lean closer so that I can feel her breath against my lips. “How long I’ve ached for you?”

“For me?” Her words catch in her throat as I press against her wet panties, rubbing her clit.

“All of it’s for you, Bronte. All of it.”

I close the distance between our lips because I can’t go another second without kissing her. The sound that leaves her is like a whimper, but I don’t stop. I’m demanding as I lick her bottom lip, but she’s a good girl and obeys, opening for me. I taste her tongue, and my own desire bears down on me as my cock throbs in my pants.

She moans when I pull the wet cotton to the side, exposing her pussy for my touch. Her body shivers in pleasure, and mine does the same as my fingertips come in contact with her slippery wet heat.

With my mouth on hers, I lose all sense of time and place. I don’t care that we’re on the floor of our shared office. Clearly, it’s the middle of the day and someone could walk in on us, but I’ve forgotten all of that.

All I care about right this second is making Bronte feel something close to what I feel for her.

Chapter Five

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