Page 77 of Free to Dream
“So I overheard.” I move to untwist my legs from my chair, but he holds up a hand. I stay where I am and decide to play with my man a little. “Is there a last-minute problem with the wedding, Mr. Lockwood? Something you or one of the other grooms may have overlooked?”
He shakes his head at me, his eyes glittering with even more humor. “Never going to let me forget that, are you?”
“Nope. Gonna let me forget I threatened to chop off all of Phil’s hair that day?”
“No, but that was just hot.”
I laugh as he lowers himself closer for a kiss, and it’s one hell of a kiss. By the end of it, my legs are wrapped around his hips, and his arms are boosting my ass into his erection. He lowers his forehead to mine. “I got off early today.”
I roll my hips and smirk. “Doesn’t feel like it.”
He squeezes my ass in retaliation and I moan. I have a new appreciation for my brother’s bitching—I’ve been too long without my man as well.
“As I was saying, I got out early today and figured I would come to you. I even convinced Keene to take most of my early morning meetings tomorrow, so if you can arrange your schedule tomorrow so we can leave for New York an hour earlier than you had originally planned, I can stay over tonight and drive us both in tomorrow.”
I quickly think about what’s due tomorrow, but I can no longer concentrate when I’m nestled up to Caleb. “Put me down for a second and let me check.” I turn and bend over toward my computer.
Caleb groans behind me.
Looking over my shoulder, I find him staring right at my ass so I give it a shake. “Down boy. If you want an answer to your question—” I moan as I feel his strong hands slide up the insides of my legs. When they reach the apex, they slide back and forth in between, rubbing the seam of my leggings against my barely-there T-back panties. My breathing quickens as I hear him drop into my desk chair behind me. “Caleb.” It’s a long, drawn out sound.
“Cassidy,” he murmurs. “Anything wrong with me doing this?”
I know he’s checking to make sure he’s not triggering any flashbacks, but I manage to get out, “No desk sex.”
He pauses what he was doing, so I push my hips back. He didn’t have to stop everything. “Why not?”
I’ve obviously wrecked his little fantasy.
“Because I have contracts and plans for your brother’s wedding spread out. I really don’t want to be here half the night putting everything back in order when I can be home in bed with you,” I reply tartly.
“Great answer.” He spins me around. “Really great answer. And because it was such a great answer, you get to choose. Wall or chair? We’ll do desk another day.”
I giggle at his good mood promptly restored. Then I study him sitting in my desk chair. How would that work, exactly? He sees the curiosity cross my face and says, “Chair it is!”
My giggle erupts into full-out laughter until he strips my leggings and panties down my legs. “Caleb!” I’m half laughing, half mortified. My blinds are open for Christ’s sake.
“Sorry, but…”
“Not sorry?”
“Pretty much,” he says cheerfully. He’s already unbuckled his pants and is working on the zipper. By the time we get him unzipped and slide on a condom, we’re both laughing hysterically.
“We have way more finesse than this, baby.” I’m out and out laughing. It’s true, we do, but I can’t bring myself to care.
As if on cue, Big and Rich’s “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy” drifts from my computer speakers, and I double over laughing. I can’t help it. Caleb looks at me with complete disbelief. “You have this on your Spotify playlist?”
“I wouldn’t be a good Southern girl without it.” I can’t help but sway back and forth to the bar theme music of the South. I self-consciously realize how utterly ridiculous look. I’m naked from the waist down and I’m shaking it in front of my office desk.
Caleb is strangely silent. His face is rigid with sexual tension and entirely focused on my swaying hips. His hands are clenched on the arms of my chair.
Whoa, Nelly. What just happened there?
I hesitate. “Cal—”
But before I can get his name out, his hand clasps me around the back of my neck and his mouth is clamped down on mine. His tongue is pushing hard and deep. “You have no idea…hot… lap dance—” before his mouth crushes onto mine again.
When he lets me back up a few minutes later, my lips are swollen and I know I’ve now left wet, damp marks on his pant leg. Somehow, I just don’t care. Neither will he.
