Page 60 of Manhattan Kiss

“Of course, Mr. Black.”

He stands aside as he lets me into his room. The door clicks shut behind me and he turns the lock.

“I can’t stay,” I say.

“Please check the television, Ms. Reynolds.”

I take a breath and step over to the television in the living area of his suite. I pick up the remote control, acutely aware that Deacon has followed and is right behind me.

“What seems to be the problem, Mr. Black?”

He stands so close to me…and then reaches under my black skirt.

“Mr. Black,” I say. “The television.”

“I can’t get the news,” he says, his fingers reaching my underwear. He presses a kiss to my neck.

All I can think about is how I want to quit my job immediately and stay here and get fucked by this beautiful man behind me.

“Have dinner with me?” he growls into my ear.

I don’t care about food. I just want to get fucked by this man. Can’t we just skip to the good part?

I spin around in his arms. He tries to kiss me, but I back away. The last thing I need is my lipstick smeared across my face and stubble burn when I come out of this room.

He follows me and puts his hand up my skirt again, this time, sinking his fingers inside me.

He grins as he finds me wet and ready for him.

“I think I could fuck you right now, you’re so wet.”

My eyelids flicker closed at his dirty mouth. “I’m working.”

His fingers plunge deeper, his thumb rounding my clit. I lean forward and bite down on his shirt-covered shoulder to stop myself from screaming out.

“Fuck,” he says, thrusting a third finger into me.

I’m so close to tipping over the edge, I don’t know if I’m going to be able to hold back. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to keep quiet.

A crash in the hallway brings me to my senses.

I’m consumed by this guy—risking my job for him.

I push him away. “Deacon. We can’t. My job.”

He slips his fingers, wet with my desire, into his mouth. “I think we just did.”

Shit. I don’t know what this guy has done to me. I’m losing my mind around him.

“Deacon,” I say. “Seriously.” I step away from him, hoping it will weaken his power over me. I slide my hands down my hips, straightening my skirt and then I turn to the mirror, checking I don’t look like I was three seconds away from an orgasm a few moments ago.

I see his smirk in the mirror, and I have to look away because I want to kiss that expression right off his mouth.

“Don’t act like you didn’t want this. You just happened to be walking by my room ten minutes after I get back?”

“And you happened to open your door?” I smooth back my hair, which is up in a bun.

“I know I want you,” he says. “Any chance I can get you. I’m happy to confess to that.”