Page 27 of Scandalous Secrets

“I could have you fired for that.”

“You wouldn’t know what to do without me.” She leaned in with a challenging stare.

This was the closest we had been and I had to hold myself back from grabbing her and kissing her. She must have sensed it because she pulled away and popped a bite of lobster in her mouth.

“Mmmm,” she said, her eyes closing as she tasted the buttery bite on her tongue.

Fuck. I had heard that sound before. Did she even know what she did to me?

I reached over and finished the last sip of wine in my glass, trying to fight the heated flush that now ran through me. Dinner had been a bad idea. Wine had been a bad idea. My inhibitions were low. So fucking low.

After dinner, we decided to walk back to the office, feeling full from the savory lobster and steak and tipsy from the chardonnay. The sun had already set, leaving us in a purple haze of darkness and city lights. We kept the talk small and tried to keep a distance between us, but every now and then she would sway closer, her arm brushing against mine. It was probably because of the wine.

Back at the building, the elevator doors opened, revealing an empty office. Everyone had gone home for the night, including Kathy, much to my satisfaction. I hated feeling like I was being babysat, especially in front of Monica.

I led Monica down the dim, quiet hallway to my office where she gathered up files for the meeting as I settled in at my desk. I picked up the phone and dialed the long number for my client overseas, placing it on speakerphone. It was almost lunchtime there, and he sounded eager to get the meeting done so he could go on break. We quickly went through his investments, which had made him a shitload of money, leaving him with next to nothing to change in his portfolio. It was a successful call that ended leaving Monica and me alone in my office with nothing else to do for the night. I wasn’t ready for it to end.

“Well,” she said hesitantly from her seat across from me. “I guess that’s it for the day.”

I noticed she didn’t get up yet, but instead remained seated in the warm glow of my desk lamp, playing with the hem of her skirt. My eyes immediately were drawn to her fingertips trailing the smoothness of her thighs against the tweed fabric.

“Another successful one in the books,” I said, not breaking her intent gaze. The crackling embers between us were now a full-fledged flame, and there was no possible way she didn’t feel it too. I had to be closer to her.

I stood from my desk and walked around to where she slowly stood, looking toward the door, unsure if she should go or stay. She looked back toward me as I slid my hand across the shiny surface of my desk, brushing against the ballpoint pen that sat dangerously close to the edge and now fell to the marble floor.

She did exactly as I hoped and bent over to retrieve it and I followed suit, also knocking a stack of papers over. Our hands brushed against each other and it sent a current through me that would make it impossible not to have her tonight. Her eyes slowly met mine as we stood up, clutching a few stray papers between the both of us, leaving the majority of the pile at our feet. She was just inches from me as I wrapped my hand around her lower back and pulled her in, closing the gap between us.

Chapter 13

Monica

Troy’s hands wrapped around my waist, pulling me against his solid body, and as much as I had been practically begging for it all night, now I was looking around the office wondering if this was a good idea. It was empty. There weren’t the watchful eyes of the office manager who had shown a particular interest in me, in us, for the past two weeks. There wasn’t anyone here. The hallways were dark and the only sign of life was the bronze desk lamp glowing on the mahogany desk and our shaky breath that rose and fell in sync.

I brought my gaze back to his, his eyes sprinkled with flecks of amber from the golden light. It looked as if they were ablaze. I felt a heat rush through me and even as the alarm bells went off in my head, I couldn’t help but let it take over.

The past two weeks had been hell for me. Being so close to him and not being able to have him in the way I had on the first night we met. A quick look from him across the hall. A simple brush of his hand against mine. His deep voice when he talked business, confident, powerful, cocky. It all sent me spiraling.

Every night I would go home wound up so tightly from trying to hold myself back. Trying to stay focused on the one thing I was there for, which was work. But now, in this office, I knew I didn’t keep coming back for the job. Or the money. It was him. I kept coming back for him. And every day on the cab ride home, I left without him. I left without fulfilling my desires that were practically eating me alive.

I spent my nights in bed replaying every little moment from each day. It was like foreplay, until I reached the main event, which was our night together those few weeks ago. Against the window. My legs wrapped around his waist as I moved up and down the length of him, grinding my body against his. On the floor by his bed, watching his eyes roll to the back of his head from the power of my mouth and tongue around his delicious length.

My body squirmed under my hand as I thought about him. My vibrator was so overworked it stopped functioning, leaving me to the touch of my hand. I got off every single night, and kept thinking it would be enough to keep my needs at bay, but it would never be as good as the real thing.

And now, here it was. The real thing.

He slid a hand up my back until it grazed the nape of my neck and sent a hum down my spine. His hand met the back of my head and his fingers tangled in my hair, pulling slightly so my face looked up toward his. His eyes fell to my lips and it was as if all his stolen glances had piled together into this one intent gaze. I let myself succumb to the desire I felt seeping from his office. A desire I hoped he had, no matter how dangerous it was.

I let my eyes flutter closed as he leaned in and brushed his lips against mine softly, feeling his breath against me. I let out a whisper of a whimper and tilted my face upward, begging for more, and I could have sworn I felt him smile against my lips. He was enjoying this slow torture of pleasure. I, on the other hand, was tired of waiting.

My hands flew to the back of his head, pulling at his hair, pushing him toward me as my mouth met his hungrily. I didn’t waste any time prying his willing lips open with my tongue and groaning as I tasted him. A taste I missed. He explored my mouth with his tongue, slick and strong. I pushed my hips toward him, needing to be somehow closer than we were with our bodies pressed against one another tightly.

He pulled away quickly, leaving me wanting more. I looked at him with confusion, wondering if he thought this was a mistake. A minuscule part of me wished he did. We could stop right now, save ourselves this complicated mess. But the bigger part of me wished he wanted this as much as me. I looked up at him, breathless, trying to read him.

He stepped back, taking a few steps toward the door, his eyes never leaving mine.

Was he leaving?

No. No. No,I begged in my head.

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