Page 83 of If You Give a CEO a Chance

The crude sound of my arousal fills the room as he alternates between torturing me with his warm mouth, the tip of histongue pressing inside my entrance, and three thick fingers, both keeping me teetering on the edge. I’m desperate to lose all control as he draws out my impending orgasm, toying with my mind.

“You’re so fucking wet.” Harrison’s voice rumbles with satisfaction. “You taste even better than I remember.”

He latches his mouth on my clit again, swirling his tongue in languid circles as my body coils tighter with each thrust of his fingers.

“Don’t you dare stop,” I pant.

He groans around my core, gently biting down on my clit, and I shatter around his hand, tossing my head back with a strangled cry.

My eyes widen when he brings his fingers to his mouth to suck them clean, and shoots me a wicked grin.

The aftershock of pleasure ripples through me, my breath quick and shallow as I glance at him. He hasn’t undressed, yet his presence is electric, filled with a desire to match mine.

I nod toward his tented pants, the outline of his erect cock pressing against the fabric. “What about you?”

“Tonight was aboutyou.” He strokes my jaw before picking up my discarded underwear and pants, handing them over so I can get dressed.

I blink at him, finally coming back to reality. “Thank you,” I whisper.

“Watching you come is my new favorite pastime.”

I blush at his words, not sure how to respond.

“I’m not ready for anything beyond that right now,” I confess. “I have no qualms admitting that you have a skilled tongue, and that as much as I try to fight it, I’m still attracted to you.”

“So, that means multiple orgasms with my roommate every day? Count me in,” Harrison replies.

A swarm of butterflies takes flight in my stomach. I appreciate him meeting me where I am, and not pushing for more than I’m ready to give. The physical attraction we share is easy—it’s the depth of our emotional connection and the possibility of what this could become that terrifies me.

My entire adult life has been about carving out my own path, chasing the dream of running my own restaurant and making a name for myself in the culinary world. Getting involved with a client, especially one that I have a past with, was never part of the blueprint.

Harrison shuts his laptop, putting it in the briefcase he had under his desk. He grabs his hockey bag in the corner, slinging it over his shoulder.

“Ready to head home?” Harrison questions. “I’m sure Cat is anxious to get out of the bathroom.”

“Yeah.”

When he gets to me, he leans down to kiss me.

I bring my fingers to my lips. “What was that for?”

“A reminder of how much you mean to me.” He takes my hand in his, giving it a light squeeze. “Now that I’ve had another taste, I’m never going back.”

It’s evident that he is ready to take the next step, yet he respects my need for time to process it all. With anyone else, what just happened would have been enough. But with Harrison, my body is still humming with need, already craving his touch again.

I may not be ready to rush into a relationship, but I’m more than willing to take things one day at a time and indulge in the perks of having a dangerously attractive roommate who can’t keep his hands off me.

Seeing Harrison in his element last night, skating across the ice, intensified the draw I felt toward him. Once we were alone in his office, and he dropped to his knees with his face buried between my legs, I was a goner. It wasthehottest sexual experience I’ve had thus far, with our weekend together coming in a close second.

What happened was like striking a match in a tinderbox, instantly burning away any pretense that our sexual chemistry didn’t exist. The notion that a thin glass wall was the only thing that separated us from the cleaning crew or anyone else left in the building made last night even hotter. Leave it to Harrison to bring out my inner exhibitionist. Just thinking about it is enough to make my pulse race.

It doesn’t help matters that I haven’t stopped thinking about kissing him again since the night on the rink. And once his mouth was on mine again, I couldn’t resist letting him go further. Images of him gazing at me with those chocolate-brown eyes as he traces my jawline torment me. His scent lingers on his jersey that I wore that night—a reminder of what we shared.

It’s Saturday morning, and I should be preparing breakfast, but Harrison suggested I sleep in today. I’m about to throw the covers over my head and pretend that I don’t have any responsibilities when I hear the sound of a drill whining, followed by a loud clunk.

What is going on?

I scramble out of bed, tug a hoodie over my head, and go to investigate.

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