Page 66 of The Beat Match

“You can thank Marjory for that visual. And I’m sorry, too.”

“For what?” He kissed her again, softer this time, unable to say what he truly felt. Be patient with me. Help me if I fuck up. I love you. He couldn’t force out the words. He secured his grip on her instead, groaned at the hot press of their bodies.

She sighed. “I’m sorry it took me so long to talk to you, but I see your new best friend has kept you company.” She hooked her legs tighter around his waist and pointed at Felix.

He’d forgotten the bunny was in his office. He blinked and saw his phone on his desk. His call with Rosanna felt like hours ago. He’d have to connect with her later, find out what DLP antics had her worried. For now he couldn’t think about much besides how good it felt to have Annie in his arms, wrapped around him again, joking with him.

* * *

“Felix has been a good listener,” Wes said into Annie’s neck, “but he’s a poor substitute for you. And don’t apologize for needing time to figure things out or for needing support. I hate seeing you upset, but it means you trust me enough to let go. I want you messy, Squirrel.”

“I want you always.”

“Good, because you’re stuck with me.”

Wes had her on the desk, the skirt of her dress hitched around her waist as he worked his hand into her underwear. She gasped. “Are we really doing this in your office?”

“We will be doing this anywhere and everywhere I have you alone. Get used to it.”

He curled and twisted his fingers. Her inner muscles clenched. She saw stars and bit her tongue to keep from crying out as he dropped to his knees, spread her wide, and gave her a long lick. Her head dropped back. She braced her sandaled feet on his powerful shoulders, couldn’t believe she was in Wes’s office, spread on his desk, his face between her thighs. She dissolved in seconds, then tugged him up by his hair, kissed him, loving the taste of herself on his tongue.

More. She wanted more, all of him in her mouth, hard against the back of her throat.

She pushed him to the floor, forced him onto his back and unzipped his fly. She swore at the velvet-hard feel of him.

“Jesus, Annie.” His hips jerked. He pushed up to his elbows, his eyes darker and slitted with lust. “We don’t finish this way. I want to be inside you when I come.”

A plan she could get behind. For now she explored his length, used the wet glide of her tongue and mouth to make Wes moan. He spread his muscular thighs, his expensive slacks bunched under his knees. She pushed up his dress shirt, rubbed one hand over his contracting abs, felt each pulse as he fought his release.

“Stop.” He gripped her hair. Not too rough, but the tug sent tingles down her spine. He got to his feet, stumbling slightly as he manhandled her back onto his desk. Then he was inside her, one smooth stroke that made them both cry out.

“This,” he said, ferocity in the one sharp word. “This is us. Always. You and me.”

She surged to meet him, her butt half off the desk and half on. A buzzing sound rang out. They ignored it. He gripped her tightly, kept her secure, sliding in and out so thoroughly she felt it in her toes. “I love you.”

He looked slightly stunned, but he kept moving, one smooth thrust as he pushed deeper. He didn’t say the words back. It stung briefly, but Wes bent down, kissed her hard, cradled her back so it didn’t rub too roughly against his desk as they crashed together. This. He was right about this. Joy so full to bursting it hurt as they tipped into oblivion together, clutching each other and murmuring incoherent words.

They hung on to each other afterward, a deep contentment making her bones heavy. He slipped out of her slowly, used some tissues to clean them up, then fixed his clothes while she did the same, both of them sneaking tender glances at each other. His phone buzzed, the same noise she’d heard while defiling his desk.

“Someone wants to get ahold of you.”

They were standing by his coffee table, but he didn’t glance at his desk. He gathered her in his arms and kissed her again. Pressed small kisses all over her face. “Does it look like I care?”

“If people start calling me Yoko Ono because you can’t focus on work and Aldrich Pharma goes to hell in handbasket, I’ll be pissed. Answer it.”

He pushed her hair to the side, rubbed his nose along her neck. “Come over tonight. Show me the video feed. Let’s make music together.”

God, she loved the sound of that. “I have to work tonight.”

“Come over after.”

More buzzing from his desk. “Weston, please check your phone.”

He nosed her neck again, then straightened. “Only when you agree to tonight.”

Was he worried she’d change her mind? Fall out of love with him if given more time to think? “Wes?”

He tipped his head, watched her intently.