Page 18 of Personal Research

“If this breaks?—”

“We’re covered. I know the boss.” He flashed her a wicked grin. But as brazenly as he spoke, he supported her weight partially with his hands, holding her up just slightly. His arms would ache tomorrow, but right now, he was glad he’d lifted weights since he was a teenager. “Besides, you’re light as air.” He punctuated the statement by brushing his mouth against hers. “Gorgeous as a million sunsets, soft as the most lovely and exquisite rose?—”

“I have condoms in my purse.”

He broke their kiss to laugh. “Nothing like a woman who comes prepared.” He drew his palm over her slick heat. “Or just comes.”

She spread her legs—gingerly, grinning all the while—and arched her eyebrows. “Purse is in my desk drawer. I can’t move.”

“I can.” He shifted her and fumbled out his wallet, freshly full of new condoms. “Sometime we’re going to have to try this naked,” he muttered, shoving the wallet back into his pocket without losing the pants. No time. He pushed down his jeans and boxers and rolled on the condom as quickly as his shaking fingers could manage.

He had to have her, here, now, every way he could.

“We got naked last night.”

“After. I’m talking before. So I can do this—” He tugged up her turtleneck sweater so he could feast on her breasts “—and see exactly how hard your nipples get when I’m inside you. So I can watch your toes curl.” The feet in question pressed against his back invitingly. “So I can see how perfectly I fit inside you, and watch you take every inch of me.”

She grabbed a hank of his hair and yanked his mouth down for a hot, desperate kiss. “I have a good imagination.”

“Me, too.” Sweat popped out on his brow and his forearms quivered as he lifted her and plunged. Incredible. Her pussy gripped him, wet, warm, endlessly giving. She leaned back, propping her elbows on the wall to support some of her weight, just enough to ease his upward slide.

“Give it to me. All you’ve got.” She caught her tongue between her teeth. Her playful expression dared him, the equivalent of a red flag in front of a rutting bull. She let out a broken moan as he obeyed her command in even, methodical strokes. “God, more.”

He thrust deeper, harder, but he didn’t rush. This wasn’t last night. As frantic as he’d been two minutes ago, this was lazy fucking, the slippery build to a climax that would spark through his body like a lit match along gasoline, blazing up everything in its path.

“Jesus, Bella.” He normally didn’t take the Lord’s name in vain. He was Catholic, but he hoped just once the man upstairs would understand. “You test me.”

“How?”

“I forget myself. Your pleasure…comes first.”

“Pleasure together,” she gasped.

She flexed her hips, raising and lowering them as they moved as one. Her heels thumped his back as she struggled to meet his quick, frenzied thrusts. Something clattered to the floor. He had no idea what. Didn’t care. Her nails raked his neck, probably leaving bloody welts. He welcomed the pain. Feeling her grow wetter, burn hotter, robbed him of all reason.

Even as he gave himself over to the urge to take, the kisses she rained over his face reached somewhere deep inside him, somewhere he’d never realized had gone untouched.

He focused on her blurry irises. In the sketchy red wash of light from the exit sign a few feet away, her temples glistened with excitement and the smile she gave him was drunk with pleasure. She’d chewed off her lipstick, smudged her eyeliner until her eyes were sooty and dark.

She was so beautiful. So real.

His heartbeat tripped. He couldn’t be selfish, even now. She had to be right there with him.

He pinched her clit above where they were joined. She cried out, squeezing him—arms, legs, pussy—as her release soaked him. The wet suction of her pussy drove him wild. He groaned and fucked her harder, mindless to anything but prolonging her orgasm. Soon his own loomed, and he raced toward it. He bruised her thighs, holding her still as he pumped in and out.

She moaned and pulled his hair, urging him on. “Come,” she begged.

Just that one word pushed him over. He obeyed her, a groan ripping from his throat.

He clung to her in the aftermath, two survivors of a sweaty war he intended to relive every day for the rest of his life. Her name tumbled off his lips, mixed with the Italian word that fit her so well.

His Bella.

Only when she sighed and shifted did he realize the machine beneath her ass was rumbling. They glanced at each other then down at the copier, only to see the power button glowing green.

Elena let out a soft giggle. “I only turned off the lights.”

He cocked a brow as he picked up the paper that had flown into the backup tray at the side of the machine.

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