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“What the hell?” my woman murmurs.
My woman.
I can’t stop myself from thinking of her in that way, even if it’s wrong, even if it would kill Caitlin.
“Why do you have this secret lair?” she asks.
I step away from her with an effort, every urge inside of me calling me a damn idiot, demanding that I stay close to her.
She bites her lip, staring at me, her cheeks infused red.
She felt it, felt me.
She knows exactly what’s going on here.
“I had some trouble with the press a few years back,” I tell her. “I was tired of being mobbed every time I stepped foot from the building, so I had this private garage installed. I mostly used it to sneak out the back, but it’s a good place to store my cars, too.”
“It looks like you’ve got a bit of an obsession,” she giggles.
Her laughter is like music to me, rioting through me with the force of long-withheld passion, with all the things we’re going to do when we finally accept that we have to be together.
I shrug and walk over to her, somehow resisting the urge to slide my hand up her hip, over her belly, to her breasts.
Every inch of her body is screaming out at me.
“Okay, Cinderella,” I say. “It’s time to choose your chariot.”
“Do you do this for all the interns?” she says, wheeling on me with a sassy glimmer in her eyes.
I almost let out a carnal roar when she looks at me like that. I can track the nervousness flitting across her features, but there’s an ever-present feistiness beneath that, as though two parts of her are constantly at war.
“No,” I say, unable to think of anything else to say.
Just being near her is intoxicating.
“Then why me?” she murmurs.
“Because you’re …”
I trail off, somehow stopping the words from erupting out of me.
Because you’re the only woman I ever want to taste, to be with, for the rest of my life.
“Because I’m Caitlin’s friend?” she says a moment later.
I sigh and nod. Of course, she’s going to remind me of that. Perhaps she can sense the need rising up inside of me, the atavistic desire drumming inside of me, seeping into my tone, my breath, my words, my body.
She’s subtly telling me to back off because if we acted on this, we’d ruin my daughter’s life.
Fuck.
“Yes,” I say. “Exactly. You’re an old family friend. It’s only polite. So, which car?”
She looks at me for a long moment, unsaid words flaring in her eyes.
“Um, the electric one,” she says. “Might as well be environmentally-friendly or whatever.”
The way she says or whatever makes me want to grab her shoulders and shove her up against the wall, claim her with my lips and show her just exactly who’s in charge here.
She’s brimming with sassiness, petulance even, and I hunger to put her in line.
She walks over to a sleek silver car, her ass shifting from side to side in the tight-fitting skirt. She must have some idea of what she’s doing to me when she walks like that. The way the fabric shifts over the spank-me-now bulbs of her ass is driving me insane.
It would be so easy, so sweet to stride over to her and push her forward, forcing her down onto the hood of the car.
Then I’d peel her skirt up and yank her tights down.
I wouldn’t even warm her up first. I know my little fuck-queen would be soaked already. I’d just yank down her tights and her panties and then drive up inside of her, pummeling her needy nineteen year old pussy as she gasps and begs for more.
“So?” she says. “Are we going?”
I smirk, stalking over to her.
“Why the attitude, Sophia?” I say.
She flinches. “Attitude, what attitude?”
I laugh dryly.
My heart pounds a frantic tempo in my chest, a beat that is almost a language.
Take-her, own-her, fuck-her.
“This attitude,” I snarl.
She tosses her head, her cheeks turning an even deeper shade of crimson. It’s like her body’s trying to tell me how horny she is even if our minds know it’s wrong. We shouldn’t be doing this. We need to think of the consequences.
But in this locked-away area – private, a separate world – I can’t bring myself to linger on what could go wrong.
All I can think about is how fresh and goddamn vivacious she looks, so full of life she’s making my balls swell and my cock pulse.
“I didn’t mean to give you an attitude … sir.”
I chuckle, stepping forward so that I’m standing over her. I can scent her perfume and her sweat and her just-Sophia scent.
I can scent her lust, rising in the air like vapor, tempting me.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me when you call me sir?” I growl. “You must know the games you’re playing with me, Sophia.”
