Page 68

There’s something achingly sweet about the way he leans forward and lets me take his shirt off, exposing his beautiful, strong body to the cool air.

God, he’s built like sin. His broad shoulders make me feel small in the best way. His chest is dusted with dark hair that tapers down over firm, cut abs – not the overdone kind, just ridged and tight. My fingers trace the deep V leading below the waistband of his pants, and I swear I feel him shudder.

I slide down, off his lap, between his legs, my bare knees hitting the floor. Then I reach for the waist band of his pants, my fingers find the button, unfastening it. It’s only when I slide my hand inside, wrapping my palm around his hard, hot girth, that he finally realizes my intentions.

His breath hitches.

“Eden…” His hand comes down to cup my jaw, gentle but firm, like he’s about to stop me. “You don’t have to?—”

“I know,” I interrupt softly, looking up at him. “I want to.”

For a long second, we hold each other’s gaze. His thumb strokes my cheek like he’s memorizing the moment. And then he lets out a low curse, leaning back in the chair, giving me permission without saying a thing.

Only then do I unzip his pants, pulling them down over his long, muscled thighs, and off his legs, followed by his boxers.

And then he’s naked. In his office chair. Like an adonis made just for me.

His eyes don’t leave my face, like he’s fascinated by me. He’s already thick and hard, the head flushed and tempting, resting heavy against his stomach. My chest hitches.

I wrap my fingers around him, feeling the heat of him pulse against my palm. He groans, low and raw, his hips jerking into my touch.

“You’ve had a shitty day,” I murmur, my voice husky as I stroke him slowly from base to tip. “Let your wife make it better.”

I lean forward to press a kiss to the sensitive head, tasting the salt of his skin. His breath escapes as he threads his fingers through my hair. “Just let me,” I murmur against him.

I take him into my mouth, slow and deep, my tongue swirling as my lips seal tight around him. Tasting him, teasing him. His hand tightens against my scalp, not to force me, but to anchor himself. His other hand grips the arm of the chair, knuckles white.

“Fuck…” The word is a broken prayer. I look up and our eyes lock.

I move at my own pace, with long, languid strokes, pausing to hollow my cheeks before letting him slide all the way to the back of my throat. Every sound he makes, every shudder that runs through his body, fuels me.

He needs this. Maybe I do, too. Last night he made me come so hard I’m still feeling the aftershocks twenty-four hours later. It’s his turn now. I’m going to make him feel so good he forgets his own name.

I hit a rhythm and his eyes close, his Adam’s apple moving as he swallows. There’s a tension in him, like he’s afraid to let go, and that only makes me want to pull him apart more.

I slide my hands up his thighs, feeling them flex beneath my touch, and hum softly around him. The vibration makes him jolt,his hips lifting. I drag the tips of my nails against his balls and he groans.

“Jesus, Eden,” he grits out, opening his eyes to look down at me. The heat in them could burn me alive.

I take him deeper still, my nose brushing the hard plane of his stomach, my nails digging into his skin just enough to make him growl. His breaths come faster now, his thighs tightening around me.

“I’m close,” he warns, the words hoarse and urgent.

Good. That’s exactly where I want him to be.

A few more strokes, my tongue circling the head on every retreat, and then he’s coming with a guttural moan, spilling hot and hard down my throat. I swallow every drop, not taking my eyes off his face until he slumps back in the chair, completely undone.

When I pull back, I press a final kiss to the inside of his thigh, my fingers rubbing his skin. “Better?” I ask softly.

For a moment he doesn’t answer, his chest still heaving. Then his hand cups my jaw, tilting my face up. His expression is unreadable, but his voice is rough with something that isn’t lust.

“You have no idea.”

His thighs are still trembling and his hands are fisted tight in my hair. His chest rises and falls in deep, shuddering breaths. For a moment, neither of us moves. There’s only the sound of our breathing, the faint hum of the air conditioning, and the taste of him still warm on my lips.

“Come here.” He tugs me up onto his lap, his mouth finding mine in a kiss that’s slow and almost reverent, nothing like the frenzied one that started this. His hands skim down my sides, settling on my thighs, then move higher, the clear intent to return the favor.

I catch his wrists, holding them still. “Not tonight,” I whisper against his lips.