Page 105 of Sexting the Boss

Damien unclips his seat belt and turns toward me, his movements slow, deliberate.

“You want to talk about what happened back there?” he murmurs.

“No,” I say too quickly, my pulse slamming into my ribs.

“Good.”

Then he reaches for me.

And suddenly, I’m kissing him.

Or maybe he’s kissing me.

I don’t know who moves first, but one second I’m fuming, the next his mouth is on mine, and nothing else matters.

His hands slide into my hair, tilting my head back as he deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping against mine in a way that makes my stomach drop.

I gasp, gripping his shirt, pulling him closer even as I know I shouldn’t.

I can’t think, can’t breathe?—

I can only feel.

His lips move to my jaw, then down to my throat, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin there. A soft moan escapes me before I can stop it, and Damien lets out a low, satisfied sound against my neck.

“Fuck,” he murmurs. “You drive me insane.”

I grip his shoulders, my nails digging into the fabric of his suit.

“Good,” I whisper, breathless.

He growls, pulling me over the console and into his lap.

My dress rides up, exposing my thighs as I straddle him, the bulge in his pants pressing right against my core.

“Damien,” I pant, half in frustration, half in sheer need.

He smirks against my skin. “Say it again,” he murmurs, his fingers gripping my waist.

I want to.

I want to say his name over and over until it doesn’t sound real anymore.

Until it’s the only thing I know.

But then a car passes by, its headlights briefly illuminating the inside of Damien’s car.

Reality slams back into me, and I freeze.

Damien feels it immediately.

His grip on me tightens for a second, like he doesn’t want to stop. But then, with a low curse, he rests his forehead against mine, breathing heavily.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

I swallow hard, still clinging to his shirt, my whole body trembling.

I should tell him to take me home.

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