Page 14 of Secretary Crush
In the office, I bend down and take two more beers out of the mini fridge. As I’m kneeling where he can’t see me, I take a deep breath and hope it clears my head. I stand and open one of the beers, taking a long drink before I walk back out. Soft music is filtering around the garage like it always is, but now that night has fallen and the garage is dim, it almost feels romantic.
When I get back to his section, he’s putting tools into the toolbox. I set his beer down before having a seat on the counter. I take a long drink, and he turns and picks up his beer. I watch as he swallows it down, causing his Adam’s apple to bob in his throat as he swallows gulp after gulp.
“Maybe you can take me for a ride sometime,” I say, referring to our conversation before I went for another round. “On your bike, I mean,” I add.
He laughs, hearing the meaning in that sentence before I added the last part. He nods. “I didn’t know you had any interest in motorcycles.”
I have a sip of my beer. “I mean, working around them all day, seeing how much of yourself you pour into it, all that makes them a little more appealing. Plus, I’ve kind of reached this phase in my life where I want to try new things, live a little more carelessly, have fun, not play it safe all the time.”
“You’re bored?”
“I want new experiences.” I reword his sentence. “For all my life, I’ve been the shy, quiet girl. I made straight A’s, I did what I was supposed to, and I never got into trouble. I was head cheerleader in high school, and I went to prom with the quarterback. I went to college, found a guy I knew my parents would approve of, and we started dating. After graduating, he asked me to marry him, and I agreed. I’ve lived my whole life the way I was supposed to. And then all of it blew up in my face when the perfect man cheated on me. If he was supposed to be right and he turned out to be so drastically wrong, who’s to say everything else in my life won’t turn out to be wrong too? I’ve lived one way, and it wasn’t right. Not to me. So now, I want to live on the other side. Something tells me that it’ll be right.”
He listens to my long-drawn-out, never-ending, strung-together thoughts. Then he nods once. “I can take you for a ride.”
I smile, happy that he seems to understand my weird thought process.
One of my favorite songs plays on the radio, and I gasp. “This is my favorite song,” I tell him, hopping down. “Dance with me.”
He lets out a nervous laugh. “What? No way!”
“Come on,” I beg, reaching for his hand. “You told me to dance. Dance with me.” I gently tug him closer to me, and I see his resolve wavering.
“All right, fine,” he says, taking a deep breath. His hands land on my hips, and I wrap mine around his neck. Slowly, we begin to sway back and forth as the music lightly fills the building around us. I rest my head against his shoulder, listening to the words. “I love this song. It’s so…perfect,” I say, lifting my head from his shoulder and looking at him.
Our eyes meet, and his are so dark that I can see my reflection in them. His eyes are always dark, but right now, they’ve doubled. They’re no longer like a light chocolate color with swirls of caramel. Now, they’re the color of midnight, of outer space. Why have they darkened?
His tongue comes out, and he wets his lips.
Oh.
I feel the electricity pulling us together. Somehow, without making the decision, I begin to lean in, wanting to feel those soft-looking lips against mine. Our mouths are only inches apart, and my eyes flutter closed as I wait for him to kiss me. I freeze, afraid of moving. I don’t want to scare him off or make him change his mind. I want this.
His hot breath blows across my lips, and my tongue comes out, wetting them. I open my eyes and find that he’s only an inch away. His gaze locks on mine, and when our eyes meet, he pulls me against him, his mouth crashing against mine. His tongue pushes past my lips, and it tangles with my own. Together, they dance and explore; they savor. I pull myself closer to him, tightening my arms around his neck. His hands start to move up my back. They tangle into my hair and move around to cup my cheeks. He tilts my head a little more, giving him more access to my mouth. He deepens the kiss, and I moan.
The butterflies in my stomach are drunk with excitement. They’re flying into the walls of my stomach and bouncing off one another. My heart is racing, and my lungs have doubled their pace. My skin is peppered with goose bumps, and my hands shake with fear and excitement. My blood must have turned to gasoline because when it floods through my stomach, it meets the fire that he ignited, and it boils, erupts, and consumes me completely.
He breaks the kiss suddenly, shaking his head as he tries pulling back. “I’m sorry, El. We can’t do this,” he says.
I feel cold without him. I need him back against me. My hands cup his face. “Don’t stop, Hudson. I want you,” I whisper, moving my lips back to his.
This time, he doesn’t fight me. This time, he picks me up against him and sets me on the counter. His hips move between my legs, and my blood boils all over again.
10
HUDSON
This is wrong. I’m her boss, and we shouldn’t be doing this. She shouldn’t allow me to touch her this way. But she is. Not only is she allowing it…she wants it. Her fingers are laced through my hair, and she’s tugging at the roots. But she isn’t pushing me away. She’s pulling me closer. She can’t get enough of me. I’ve already found the strength to stop once. I’m no longer strong enough. I can’t stop myself. Not unless she tells me to.
Her hands move from my hair, and they fall to my waist, where they slowly start pushing their way up my shirt. Each time her fingertips roam over a peak of my abs, I want to kiss her that much harder. When they fall into each of the divots, I want to bend her over in front of me and fuck her until she begs me to stop.
As her hands move up my chest, she pushes my shirt up out of her way. I reach behind me, grab my shirt, and pull it over my head. Our kiss breaks for a moment, but the second the shirt is no longer covering my body, I’m pulling her mouth back to mine. With my shirt off, her hands are free to roam over my chest. Her soft fingertips graze my hard nipples, and it makes me want to capture her wrists in my hands and pin them down to her sides where I can touch her, taste her, fuck her any way I want.
My kisses begin to fall away from her lips. I kiss my way across her jaw and down to her neck. She sucks in a large gulp of oxygen, and she breathes out a soft moan that makes my dick jump. My hands move to her tiny waist, and they begin pulling her tight tank top up her stomach. I kiss over her collarbone as I pull the shirt up. Finally, I pull back and rip it over her head. My eyes glance down her body, taking her in. To my surprise, I find a sparkling jewel in her belly button. I never took her for the type.
Her tits are only covered in a white lace bra, and as I kiss my way lower over the swell of her breasts, my hands move around to her back to unfasten her bra. I unhook it, and the material snaps back to its original size, no longer held stretched around her. Her tits bounce free, and when I drop the bra between us, nothing is stopping me from sucking her hard nipple into my mouth.
I flick my tongue against it, and she moans as she gets a fist full of my hair. She holds me close as my hands massage her breasts, and my mouth stimulates her excited nipple.
