Page 119 of Inflame

“And how should I take responsibility for my unfounded actions?”

I step a foot closer and lean up to whisper in his ear. “Do that thing with your tongue.” When I move back to my corner of the car, I watch as my words penetrate Nic’s senses. I feel like I’m testing an unmarked boundary. I know I have some effect on him based on how I can see his Adam’s apple bob and his feet shift their weight. There is something about a man of authority that gets me hot and bothered. Just seeing him in his element, handling those barbaric security guards with just a few commands, makes me want to jump his bones.

Right here. Right now.

“What thing?” he asks, feigning innocence.

Oh, he thinks he is so cute. “Thething.”

He taps the tip of his finger to his lips. “Got to be more specific. My mouth has many talents.”

“Shutting it is not one of them.”

“Claire, Claire, Claire…”

His breath flutters across my face, warming me. Or perhaps it is the way his suit continues to stretch taut across his chest with every little movement. He is a model and a caveman all wrapped up into one amazing Armani package. Maybe knowing what is waiting under that suit is what is stimulating my need right now. Or maybe it is because sometimes it is fun to play with fire.

“Never mind,” I say, turning away. “I got bored.” My body jostles with the sudden stop of the car. “What in the—”

Nic saunters over to me and is on his knees before I realize what is happening. He pushes up the hem of my skirt and easily tucks it into its own waistband. His hands slide up my calves, over the backs of my thighs, and then pull the fabric of my panties to the side to allow for his tongue to lick me from pussy to clit. My knees buckle and my hands reach back to the railing for support, gripping it as tightly as I can to keep myself from crashing to the floor.

“Is this thething?” Nic asks, humor laced into the tone of his words. His tongue flicks back and forth over my clit, acting as a human vibrator.

“Ahhh!” I call out, moving my sore hand to Nic’s head to ensure he isn’t going anywhere. He is right where I want him to be. “Hell, Nic, you have a wicked tongue.”

“So do you,” he says, tickling my most sensitive parts.

It takes just the pressure of his thumb at my entrance and the movement of his tongue to send me on the path to an intense orgasm. I steady myself as Nic resurfaces, fixes my skirt, and then licks his lips of my cum.

“You taste like a cupcake,” he says with a lopsided smile.

Nic presses the button to send the elevator moving again. It stops on his floor and we get off. He holds my good hand and ushers me through a series of security doors, using multiple keys and even a hand scanner. Several of the staff members look at me, and I just duck my head and try my best to avoid eye contact. I’m certain that all of his newly acquired employees are making their own speculations and judgments.

Nic unlocks the door to his office. His name plate is just outside on a professional plaque. It looks fresh. He is the man in charge and something tells me he has zero fucks to give when it comes to making enemies here at Hoffman Headquarters.

He lets go of my hand and saunters over to his desk, opening the top drawer and hitting a button on a remote. The wall of TVs disappears behind a wooden panel. He then opens up a mini-fridge and pulls out a gel ice pack. He walks back, as my feet stay glued to the area at which he deserted me. It is like my shoes are made of bricks. I just stare at his work space, gaining more insight on him as to how he operates. He is a minimalist. Only needs the essentials—nothing extra.

Like his apartment, Nic values clean lines and modern elements. His personal space is put together, just like his outward image is. Calm and collected. But I know that underneath the perfectly pressed collared shirt is a man with a rugged and unquenchable sex drive. Something tells me that last night I only got a small sampling of what he has to offer, and I’d be lying to myself if I wasn’t wishing I could get to experience the sequel.

When I move a certain way, I can still feel the soreness between my legs from the aerobic activity we engaged in the night before and then the little preview we just had in the elevator. I’m in a constant state of arousal around Nic, to the point where I may need to start stowing away fresh pairs of panties in my purse—especially if I want to stay dry.

Nic takes my right hand and places the ice pack on the center that took the brunt of the blow. I am shocked that I hit him like I did. In the moment, I was so enraged that I lost control of my bearings. It’s not like I go around just hitting people because I get mildly offended. With the whole thing going on with Ethan, coupled with my nerves about being here today to potentially start a career, I wasn’t thinking clearly.

“How does that feel?”

I look down at his much larger hands that dwarf my own, then back up to his eyes. “Good?”

He examines my bones. “At least nothing looks broken. Maybe look who the culprit is before you try taking a swing next time.” There is humor in his tone.

“Might not have stopped me anyway,” I snicker.

“I may have deserved it. If not this time, then definitely the next.”

I laugh. “Pretty sure I was the only one who suffered from my lapse in judgment.”

“This is true.” His eyes get serious, as I shift my weight to my heels. “So, I believe I owe you some compensation for causing you unnecessary pain. Albeit, completely out of my control.”

I nod and smile big. “Yes. Yes, you do. Time to pay up.” I yelp as he hauls me to his desk, knocking documents and a fancy pen to the floor with just the swipe of his hands. “Someone’s eager,” I mumble.

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