“That’s how you draw the line, yeah?”
“I have standards,” she says, pointing the pen at me.
“Good,” I say. “You’re tougher than he is.”
“You think I’m tough?”
I lean in slightly, voice dropping. “Addison, I think you’re a fucking force.”
She blinks at me, like just talking to me for a few minutes washes Matt away like the tide.
“Thanks,” she says finally, smiling shyly.
I tilt my head, staring at her. “You survived your meeting. Don’t you reckon that deserves a little reward?”
Her lips part. “What kind of reward?”
The corner of my mouth kicks up into a wicked smile. “The kind that’s going to have you saying a different name.”
Before she can say a word, I rise from my seat. I push her chair back with a nudge of my foot, and sink to my knees between her legs.
“Oliver,” she murmurs, gripping the arms of the chair.
“Shh,” I whisper, my hands sliding up her calves, slow and purposeful. “You’ve had a long day, PR Queen. Let me take care of you.”
Addison bites her lip as my hands spread her thighs wider, my thumbs stroking slow, lazy circles into her skin. Her breath hitches, and I’ve barely even touched her properly yet.
“God, you’re soaked for me already,” I groan against her skin. I push her skirt higher, until I’ve got her open and trembling.
Good.
I want her wrecked.
I want her thinking about this every time Matt opens his fucking mouth.
Addison is already breathless, but I’m just getting started.
I drag my mouth up higher, nipping at the soft skin near her hip bone. I could listen to her gasp my name like a prayer for the rest of my life. It thunders through my chest like a second heartbeat.
God, I love this. The sight of her flushed and open, trembling and sweet—all for me.
I lick a slow, deliberate stripe up her clit, feeling her whole body shake under my hands. I groan against her, my hands holding her hips down as she bucks toward me. God, I could come just by listening to her. I could get lost in the way she tastes, the way she moans my name, the way her hands fist into my hair. I could live here, between her thighs, and die a happy man.
She shatters on my tongue, desperate and undone. I stay there for a second, breathing her in, tasting the wreckage I’ve made of her. When I finally lift my eyes, her head is tilted back, chest heaving. I wipe the rest of her from my mouth with the back of my hand.
Then I stand, hauling her into my arms and lifting her onto the edge of the desk. I shove everything—every paper, every file—out of the way with one sweep of my arm. She laughs against the skin of my neck as I roll a condom over my dick.
I slide into her in one stroke, gripping her hips as I thrust slow and deep. I hold her firmly in place, forcing her to feel every inch of me. She moans, digging her nails into my back as she unravels all over again.
Every moan, every whimper, weakens whatever was left of my restraint, and I drive into her harder.
We come together, and her body goes limp under mine. Feeling her heart thunder against my chest is wild and beautiful.
We pull ourselves together—her fixing her skirt, me raking a hand through my hair to look halfway presentable.
“Shit,” she mutters, checking her watch. “I have a meeting at three.”
I watch as she smooths herself back into professional Addison, like she wasn’t just falling apart on her desk. She mumbles about running late, but I don’t care. I step right into her space, backing her up until she’s leaning against her desk. I lift her chin with two fingers, studying every inch of her face, wrecked by me.
