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This pull between the two of us can’t go on forever, but even as I vow to restrain myself next time, a part of me thrills at the promise of our next encounter.
With a sigh, I wonder whether I should go and apologize to Wyn, or if this will only anger her more.
No matter what I say, she’ll probably interpret any attempt to connect right now as patronization. Wyn needs time to cool off—maybe later I’ll bring her a coffee.
With that idea in my mind, I set to work. Files are stacked in my inbox, but I have no fucking desire to even start.
All I can focus on is Wyn’s fascinating contrasts, her prickly exterior as well as her hidden vulnerability.
I ache to uncover the warm, soft side I glimpsed once in an unguarded moment when she was talking to another coworker about her son and didn’t realize I was there.
The bite of regret for upsetting Wyn weighs bitterly on my tongue, even though I have no idea what I said or did wrong.
My computer dings with email notifications, and I also have my quarterly reports to go over, but instead, my mind drifts to the one woman I shouldn’t be thinking of.
Pushing aside my worries, something else unfolds—something much more inappropriate.
Glancing across the room at my closed door, I note it’s not locked, but at this time of day, everyone is gone for lunch.
Regardless, my intent is stupid, and yet here I am, hand wandering beneath my desk as I recline in my chair, proving my own foolishness.
“Fuck,” I groan under my breath, my thoughts twisting with my lust. My fingers curl around my tarse, testing the hard length with a savage stroke.
In my fantasy, Wyn’s naked, spread open with her back against the cold, polished surface of the conference room table.
The scene is so vivid in my mind, I swear I can feel the satin smoothness of Wyn’s skin. Here, she’s mine to command—mine to control.
“Is this what you want?”
It’s a rhetorical question that I growl out loud, as if the real Wyn can hear me through the floor.
My imagination supplies her response, a heady mix of defiance and surrender that makes me throb with need.
I move my hand rhythmically, envisioning Wyn touching herself, cupping her full breasts before tugging on the dusky nipples until they’re stiff little peaks.
The scent of citrus and jasmine tantalizes me as her chest flushes with her budding desire. I slide between the valley of her breasts, our breaths mingling in the charged air of forbidden desires.
“Tell me you want me.”
Fantasy Wyn doesn’t even hesitate, mewling out her agreement as I lap my tongue over the flutter of her pulse.
Rising above her, I thrust my tarse between Wyn’s ample cleavage, the slick length easily gliding back and forth thanks to the natural lubrication male Boggart’s create.
My pace quickens as I seek dominion over the gorgeous woman, and even though she gives me exactly what I want, Wyn is the one who holds all the control in her hands.
It’s power at its most primal, and I’m lost to it as my grip tightens in real life. I chase my passion to the edge of oblivion, craving more than just my thoughts.
“More.”
Everything disappears except the searing image of Wyn beneath me as my fantasy grows more and more heated. It’s raw and consuming, stoked by every fiery glance and barbed exchange.
Picturing her body trembling, that pouty lower lip of hers tucked between her teeth as I fuck her harder, sends a jolt through me.
My pulse roars in my ears as Wyn begs for me to come all over her, and I explode—hot, uncontrollable—just as my office door slams open.
“If you don’t doubt me, why the hell did you make that stupid bet in the—”
Wyn’s angry words fizzle out when she finally looks at me. Time stretches taut, and everything grinds to halt.
