Page 55 of Under Pressure

“Maybe, uh, hiding under here?” He tugs at the hem of my shirt playfully, a wicked glint in his eye. Is he… flirting with me?

I’ve never been any good at flirting. Once I realize that’s what’s happening, I get all caught up in my head, trying to make it sexy, but it never comes out that way. “You think I’m hiding a pie under there?” My voice sounds skeptical, rather than the sultry tone I intended. But really, how can I make pie sound passionate?

“There’s only one way to find out.” He slips his hands under my shirt, his fingers warm as they glide across my stomach. Now,hemakes flirting seem smooth. No awkward pauses, no cringey comments.

I sigh under his touch, my body swaying toward him. He steps in closer, whispering in my ear, “Hmm, not here. Maybe higher.”

Between his deep voice and his fingers teasing the underside of my breasts, I’m in sensory overload. “Um, yeah, higher.”

Wow, it’s truly amazing he finds you as attractive as he does. You’re a regular seductress.

Shut up. I must be doing something right if he’s actually continuing upward, his hands molding themselves over my bra, the pressure sending a zing through my belly. He gently folds down the cups, his palms hot on me now, his calluses rough against my tender skin. It feels glorious.

“I’m beginning to think there’s no dessert for me at all. Nothing creamy, decadent, sinfully good.” He shapes each word slowly, enunciating in my ear, shivers racing down my spine at the erotically charged words. I should have never told him how much I like his voice. “I guess I’ll have to settle for something else.” He lifts my shirt, fully exposing me, bending down to take a nipple in his mouth.

I brace myself against the desk, part of me knowing we shouldn’t be doing anything right now, the other part not caring one bit.

My phone dings from inside my backpack, signaling that it’s time for appointments to start, and Tyler lifts his head, the haze of lust clearing from his eyes. His gaze flicks to the clock on the wall, then to me, quickly setting my bra back in place and lowering my shirt. “Sorry, I got carried away there.”

He walks over to his desk, staring at me, waiting for me to say something. I take a second to put my scrambled brain back in order, the feel of his mouth on me still lingering. “That’s okay. I liked it.”

He nods and opens his mouth to reply, but a knock on the door interrupts us. It’s Jada, our first participant of the day.

I rush to open it, smoothing down my shirt and running my hand over my hair in case it’s out of place. “Hi,” I tell her breathlessly, feeling like Tyler and I were caught, even though we were nowhere near each other when she entered.

I glance over at him one more time, but he’s looking at his computer monitor, not me.

A heavy stone sinks in my stomach but I push it aside, focusing instead on running Jada through the sequence.

I guess the moment’s over.

Chapter Sixteen

Tyler

“Your group is doing really well,”Mia comments, leaning in close beside me to take a better look at the spreadsheet I have up on the screen. “The difference between them and the control group should be statistically significant.”

I shut my eyes briefly, breathing in deeply of that wonderful Mia essence. How does she always smell so sweet? Does she douse herself in vanilla extract or something?

“Also, I really like your tattoo.” She smiles, motioning to the blue unicorn on my forearm, glitter still stuck to it. I rolled up my sleeves unthinkingly after our last participant left.

I’m glad she didn’t try to pick up where we left off before Jada showed up. I don’t know what I was thinking trying to start anything then, when we could have been caught at any moment. Did I subconsciously want that? Or was I simply not capable of any thought at all once I’d had my hands on her, her delicious scent in my nose?

I shake my head, trying to remember what she just said. God, she’s scrambling my wits even now. She saw my tattoo. “You’ll probably like this one even better.” I lift my sleeve so my bicep is exposed, showing her the purple mermaid.

She covers her mouth with her hand, eyes sparkling as brightly as the glitter clinging to my arm. “I love it.”

I pull my shirt back down, explaining, “My sister did them.”

“That’s sweet of you to let her do that. How old is she?”

“Eight.”

“Wow, that’s a big age gap. What…” She does some mental math. “Thirteen years?”

“Between her and my oldest brother it’s eighteen.”

“Good lord. I can’t imagine going to my child’s high school graduation with my newborn too.”

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