Page 23 of Accidental Theirs
“Yes,” I breathe, and it’s barely out of my mouth before she crashes her lips on mine, hot, hungry, almost feral, our teeth nearly gnashing together.
I moan into her mouth, grabbing the back of her head, my thigh socketing between her legs as if it’s meant to be there.
I almost expect her to pull away, tell me this is too much, that I’m taking things too far, but instead, she moves her mouth to my neck, kissing me there while I pant, trying to keep from bursting in my slacks.
I know she can tell how hard I am, how I’m tenting my expensive suit pants, but she still doesn’t pull away, in fact, wantonly rocking her hips against my thigh.
“Olivia,” I whisper, and it seems to break some kind of spell.
Her pale green eyes widen so far it's nearly alarming, and she backs away, shaking her head, curls falling from the bun on the top of her head.
“What am I doing?” Her eyes dart from side to side as she rubs a hand across her face. “I’m sorry, Damien. Forgive me.”
I frown. “Forgive me?”
She waves a hand at me dismissively. “You’re forgiven.”
My jaw tightens.
She’s not listening. Because I’m not sorry. I’m not asking for forgiveness. In fact, I want to ask her on a date, but she’s already adjusting her clothes and rubbing at her mouth, where her lipstick is smeared.
She rushes out of my office, and I stand there for a long moment, putting my hand to my mouth like her kiss is something sacred.
It sure felt like it.
Now I just have to hope that wasn’t a one-time thing. Because that one kiss wasn’t enough.
No. It has only made me hungrier for her.
Chapter Seven
SEBASTIAN
I’ve beenin a shit mood for a few days, ever since that mixer we had with Carter Holdings. The night I saw Olivia Carter for the gorgeous woman she is.
She’d always been just my best friend’s daughter. I’d never thought about bedding her, but now it seems to be all I can think about.
I blame that little skirt she wore to the mixer. Women with legs like that should always show them off, though, so I feel conflicted.
Rosie walks into the office without knocking, which I’ve warned her about no less than twenty times.
I have to admit that Rosie isn’t exactly an intellectual hire—her only previous job was at the local fast-food restaurant near her house. She was twenty-one with perfect measurements and a crop of red hair.
What can I say? I’m a red-blooded American man.
But I’ve never crossed the line with her. Twenty-one is a little too young even for a guy like me, and I don’t date coworkers or subordinates.
She smiles when she walks in, shutting and locking the door behind her, and my eyebrow raises.
I didn’t even know she knew how to use that lock.
“Hey, boss.” She lifts her hip to slide her ass onto the edge of the desk, showing off her thick thighs.
I can’t say it’s not at least somewhat effective, because I look.
But I don’t shiver like when I first saw Olivia’s long thighs. This is just healthy interest that I have no problem pushing down.
“Rosie. What do you think you’re doing?”
