Page 62 of A Game of Deception
I reached up, running my finger along his jawline, feeling the slight stubble there. “Not even remotely.”
His laugh was warm against my lips as he closed the distance between us. The kiss started slow, almost chaste, but quickly deepened as I parted my lips for him. His tongue slid against mine, and I couldn’t help the small sound that escaped me. He groaned in response, his hands leaving the chair to tangle in my hair.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard.
“I’ve been thinking about doing that all afternoon,” he confessed, his forehead resting against mine.
“Just that?” I teased, my hands sliding under his shirt to feel the warm skin beneath.
His eyes, mossy green and alive with desire, held mine. “No. Not just that.”
He straightened, pulling me up with him. I let him guide me backward until I felt the edge of the examination table against the backs of my thighs. The same table where I’d first assertedmy dominance over him during his physical. The irony wasn’t lost on me.
“Turnabout is fair play, Doctor,” he murmured, as if reading my thoughts. He lifted me easily, setting me on the edge of the table, my skirt riding up as he stepped between my legs.
“Is that what this is? A game?” I asked, even as my body betrayed my desire, my legs wrapping around his waist to pull him closer.
He paused, his hands stilling on my thighs. “No. This is not a game to me, Tara.”
The sincerity in his voice made my chest tighten. I reached up, tracing the outline of his lips with my finger. “Good. Because it’s not a game to me either. Not anymore.”
The admission was full of implications neither of us was ready to voice aloud. Instead, we let our bodies speak for us. His hands resumed their exploration, pushing my skirt higher, his fingers tracing patterns on my inner thighs that made me shiver. I pulled his shirt over his head, revealing the taut muscles of his chest and abdomen, marked here and there with the scars of his profession.
“You know, I was thinking. Taking down that obsession wall of me,” he said. “That couldn’t have been easy.”
“It wasn’t,” I admitted. “It felt like erasing a part of myself. But I don’t need it anymore. I have you now. The real you.”
His smile was soft, almost vulnerable. “You do have me. All of me.”
The moment stretched between us, something profound and fragile taking shape. Then he kissed me again, and thought became impossible. My hands fumbled with his belt as his lipstraced a path down my neck, making me gasp when he found the sensitive spot just below my ear.
“You’re wearing too many clothes,” he murmured against my skin.
I couldn’t agree more. We undressed with urgent movements, afraid the spell might break if we took too long. When we were both naked, he stood back for a moment, his eyes roaming over me with a hunger that made me feel powerful and vulnerable all at once.
“God, you’re gorgeous,” he said, his voice rough with desire.
I reached for him, pulling him back to me. “Show me how gorgeous you think I am.”
He did. Right there on the examination table, he worshipped every inch of me. His hands and mouth were everywhere, drawing sounds from me I didn’t know I could make. When he finally slid inside me, the sense of completion was overwhelming. We moved together with a synchronicity that felt both new and familiar, as if our bodies had always known how to dance together.
“Look at me,” he commanded softly as I felt myself nearing the edge. I opened my eyes to find his gaze intense on mine. “I want to see you come undone.”
It was his eyes that did it—the raw vulnerability and desire I saw there. I came with his name on my lips, my body clenching around him. He followed moments later, his face buried in my neck, his breath hot against my skin as he pulsed inside me.
We stayed like that for a long moment, our breathing gradually slowing, his weight a comforting pressure on top of me. I ran myfingers through his hair, marveling at how right this felt—how right he felt.
“We should probably get dressed,” I said eventually, though I made no move to do so. “Security does rounds every hour.”
He groaned but pulled away, reaching for his discarded clothes. “Always the voice of reason, Dr. Swanson.”
I sat up, watching as he pulled on his jeans. “One of us has to be. And since you’re the one who suggested sex in my office...”
He grinned, unrepentant. “I didn’t hear any complaints. In fact, I’m pretty sure I heard the opposite of complaints.”
I felt my cheeks heat as I slid off the table, grabbing my blouse from where it had landed on my desk chair. “I’m not complaining. Just pointing out the facts.”
He stepped behind me as I buttoned my blouse, his arms wrapping around my waist, his chin resting on my shoulder. “Fact 1… that was amazing. Fact 2… you’re amazing. Fact 3… I can’t wait for tomorrow.”
