Page 111 of The Temporary Bride

Reaching out, I tug her closer by the wrist, angling my body so that I’m between her and the glass walls of the office. The blinds are still open. Anyone walking past in the hall could look in and see us standing close together, but I don’t reach for the cord. Part of me likes that. And based on the way her eyes flick briefly to the glass before coming back to mine, her pupils dilating, I think she does too.

“Fuck, Chloe.” I keep my voice low. “You drive me crazy. You know that? Every time I’m in a room with you, I can’t think straight. You open your mouth to argue with me, and I spend half the time actually listening and the other half just watching your face.”

A flush moves up her throat and into her cheeks, and it’s so fucking gorgeous that I’m already half hard.

“I want to fuck you,” I breathe, watching her face as the words land. “Right now. If those blinds were closed and there was no one out there, I’d have you on that table in about thirty seconds flat.”

Her lips part slightly, and I keep going, keeping my voice just above a murmur.

“I’d take my time with it. I’d get on my knees first and eat that pretty pussy until you couldn’t remember your own name. Until you were begging me to stop and begging me not to at the same time.”

“Tristan.” It’s almost a whimper, but there’s an edge of warning in it. Her gaze cuts to the glass behind me. “Someone could⁠—”

“No one’s looking. And even if they were, all they’d see is two people having a conversation.”

I shift my body slightly, adjusting the angle so that what I’m about to do next is blocked from anyone passing in the hall, and then I reach out and brush my knuckles lightly over her nipples through her shirt. Just once, barely any pressure at all.

Her breath catches. I feel them harden under my touch immediately, even through the fabric, and I hold her gaze and do it again, just as lightly.

“Look at that,” I groan softly. “I barely touched you, and your nipples are so fucking hard already. Are you wet for me, dimples?”

The column of her throat constricts as she swallows, then nods once.

“Good girl,” I praise. “So fucking good. My perfect, filthy wife.”

I brush over them again, a slow pass of my knuckles, and watch her jaw tighten as she works to keep her face neutral. The folders she’s still holding are pressed against her chest like a shield, her hands clenching them so hard the paper is bending.

“I think you could come just from this. Standing right here, with people walking past outside. Am I wrong?”

She holds out for a second, her eyes locked on mine, and then gives another small nod.

Something moves through me at that, hot and satisfied, and I keep my touch exactly where it is, feather light, just enough for her to feel but not enough to be obvious to any random passersby. I lean in slightly closer, hungry for every little hitch in her breath.

“Squeeze your thighs together for me,” I murmur. “Help me get you off. I bet that pretty little clit is just desperate for attention. So squeeze tight, dimples. Imagine you’re clenching around my cock.”

Her eyes dart to the glass for just a second, then come back to mine, and I see the moment she does it. The small shift in her expression, the way her lips part and her lashes lower slightly, and the barely audible sound that escapes her that she immediately covers up.

An appreciative sound rumbles in my chest. “Fucking perfect. God, you’re killing me. You know what I’m thinking about right now? I’m imagining how fucking good it would feel to bend you over that table and slide inside you.” I brush over her nipples again, watching her face respond to it. “The way your ass would shake as I fucked you. The little sounds you’d make. The way your back would arch as I made you come. I think about you more than I think about anything else in the entire fucking world.”

She makes a sound that she tries to pass off as clearing her throat, but I’ve been watching her face too long to miss what it actually is. She’s working very hard to look like nothing out of the ordinary is happening, and she’s actually doing a pretty good job of it.

Which just means I get to push her a little further.

I pinch one of her nipples, and she gasps at that, then clenches her jaw to keep in whatever other sounds she was going to make. Her gray eyes look darker than usual with her pupils so blown out, and her eyelashes flutter with the effort of keeping her eyes open as pleasure courses through her.

“I bet you wish you could grind against my thigh right now,” I say, taking just a half step closer. I’m almost as desperate as she is, my cock fully hard now. “I bet you’re so wet I could slide inside you with just one stroke. You’d take me so well, dimples. You always do.” I pinch her other nipple, twisting just a little, and feel her shudder. “That’s what I’m thinking about. That’s what’s been running through my head this entire meeting, every time you opened that gorgeous fucking mouth to argue with me.”

Her face does something I love, that helpless involuntary response that she has no control over, and I know she’s close. I can read it in every small tell I’ve learned over the past weeks, the way her breathing has gone shallow and her lips are parted and the flush has spread all the way down her throat.

“Come for me,” I demand quietly. “Right here, right now. Let go, dimples. I want to see you fall apart.”

Her features tighten and then let go, the orgasm moving through her in a wave that she contains well, just a soft barely-there sound escaping her lips and a shudder that I feel more than see. I keep my hands exactly where they are and watch her work through it, her chest rising and falling quickly, her grip on the folders loosening.

“Good fucking girl,” I murmur, biting my lower lip as I watch the blissed-out pleasure slowly fade from her expression. “You did so well. Better than I expected, honestly. Next time, I’ll have to work harder to make you scream.”

I chuckle lightly as I say the words. I’m teasing, of course. I told her that I’m the only one who gets to see her like this, and I meant it. I love the rush of making her come with people nearby, but I know she’d never actually want to get caught, so I’d never let it happen.

But instead of smirking at my joke the way I expect, Chloe frowns, a startled, worried look passing over her face. “What…?”