Page 68 of Captain's Claim

My body locks up.

A piece of me, somewhere deep, buried under the need clawing at my chest, registers what she’s saying.

I swallow hard, my resolve already starting to crumble. "What are you doing, Sophia?"

She hums, pressing closer, until her soft, warm body is flush against mine, until I can feel the hard peaks of her nipples through her blouse, pressing against my chest.

Her nails drag down my shirt, slow, tantalizing, tracing every ridge of muscle, every dip, until she’s resting her palm right over my stomach, her fingers spreading lower.

Her voice? A fucking purr. "I'm giving you what you want, Blake. What we both want."

Each touch, each fucking breath, a dare. A slow, merciless push against the limits of my carefully constructed control.

She’s playing the same game she did last night.

Only now? There’s nothing clouding her intent. No alcohol, no half-slurred words.

She wants this.

And fuck, I do too.

Her breath ghosts over my jaw, then lower, until she’s pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss just beneath my ear.

I clench my fists. “Sophia.”

“It’s hard to think straight, isn’t it?” Her tongue flicks against my skin. Teasing. Tasting. “That’s the point, you know. All this tension, all the fighting… when we could just…feel.”

Her hand moves lower, sliding down my chest, trailing fire in its wake, until her palm cups my cock through my jeans.

A harsh, gritted groan tears from my throat before I can stop it.

I exhale sharply, barely holding on. “You’re not drunk.”

She leans in, her mouth hovering over mine, her tongue flicking just over my lips, just enough to taste, to tease, to wreck me completely.

“No, Blake,” she breathes, her voice dripping with sin. “I’m not.”

Her fingers press harder, molding against the thick length of my cock as she begins to stroke it, making my jaw clench, my control snap thread by fucking thread.

“Does that mean I get what I want now?” she whispers, taunting, knowing exactly how far she’s pushing me. "Or should I just expect another basket of muffins on my desk later?”

I don’t think.

I move.

One second, I’m crushing my mouth to hers, making her shut the fuck up for two damn seconds, and the next, I’ve got two fistfuls of her hips, spinning her so fast she gasps, her palms slamming onto the desk to catch herself as I bend her over.

Her ass presses right against my cock, the heat of her burning through my jeans, and I let out a rough, ragged breath, my pulse fucking thundering.

"You're gonna get in so much fucking trouble, Sophia Hart."

My hands drag up her thighs, her face pressed hard against a stack of folders on her desk. I yank her back against me, letting her feel exactly what she's done to me.

"You know how bad I had to fight not to give this to you last night?" I growl, my mouth hovering over the soft, sensitive skin of her neck.

She shifts her ass against me, rubbing back, her breath coming faster.

"Maybe you should have just given in," she whispers, tilting her head, giving me access as her fingers curl around the edge of the desk.

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