Page 4 of Tempted

He was everything that made a man irresistible. Successful, impeccable, and polished, right down to his perfectly lined fade and jade cufflinks.

But he had Char and I had Curtis.

He leaned close, his scent enveloping me. I cleared my throat but didn’t look away.

“That’s not a question,” I replied.

He leaned forward and my breath caught. But instead of kissing me, he brought his nose against mine, brushing gently against it. His hand moved to my neck, tracing along the edge of my collar. I let out a gasp as what felt like electricity began to follow his touch.

Hugh chuckled and I felt my face flush. His breath teased my earlobe before he ran his nose softly underneath my jaw. Heat began to course through me and pool in between my thighs. I fought the sudden urge to buck against his warm body.

I closed my eyes tight and tried to take a steadying breath to calm the mist of desire that was clouding me. His fingers traced my jaw and came to rest beside it.

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

The words were whispered against my lips. There, but not quite there. My heart thudded in my chest, beating hard against my ribs. I didn’t know what to say, I couldn’t think, all I could do was feel. My body was alight.

I didn’t need to open my eyes to know that he still held that same heated look. The one that seemed to see me, see right into me.

“That was a question,” he said. Unconsciously, I licked my bottom lip. A growl hummed in his chest, and I could feel the vibration in mine.

“You’re drunk,” I said, trying to keep myself in check, trying to temper my hormones, trying to tell my pussy to dry, and my feet to hold my weight and leave the bathroom. But instead, I let the scent of sage and sandalwood inebriate my senses while lust and champagne blurred my mind.

Lips traced my cheek and made a path towards my neck.

“You’ve had five glasses of champagne. Are you drunk?”

My tongue felt heavy in my mouth. He’d been counting? He’d been watching? I didn’t respond.

Hugh tutted.

“Are you?” he asked again, more firmly.

“No,” I replied.

Every breath I took made my breasts brush against him.

“Neither am I,” he said, grabbing my waist and effortlessly placing me on the edge of the sink before taking a step back.

“I’m waiting for you to answer my question.”

Hugh may have put distance between us, but the heat was still there, burning my skin and gripping me tight. Hugh’s hands went into his pockets, and I couldn’t help but stare at the bulge tenting at the front of his slacks.

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I tried again, but I couldn’t think, not with the idea of being spread open and demolished by this man in my head. I crossed my legs, trying to ease the pressure on my core. It didn’t work, but it did bring Hugh’s attention to my thighs, now in full view beneath the dress.

I could almost feel his eyes as his gaze slowly caressed every inch of my exposed skin, falling on the apex where the dress stopped mere inches from my heat.

“Yes.” The ragged and needy sound came from my mouth. Before I could slow my tongue, I continued, “I want you to fuck me.”

Hugh unbuttoned and shrugged off his suit jacket, his eyes never leaving mine. I leaned back, watching as he moved.

“Not here,” he said, throwing it over a stall door. He removed his cufflinks and started to fold up the sleeves of his shirt, ending at his elbows and leaving behind toned forearms.

His right arm was covered in an intricate, weaving design that crawled past his shirt. It started a little above his wrist, and knowing Hugh, it was no doubt designed specifically to hide beneath his shirt. If you wanted to be taken seriously in Corporate America, you had to assimilate and be creative with self-expression.

Hugh began closing the distance between us. I couldn’t help but feel like I was being hunted – stalked. My heart started to pound, and I didn’t blink, I didn’t move.

The noise from the party faded, and it was just us, just that moment in time. When he got close, he paused. A moment of quiet passed between us, him standing just out of reach, his hands back in his pockets.

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