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Ah, Jesus, now there was someone in Cole’s office. That sealed it. Time to lock up.
Silently, he pushed the door inward. A lone figure sat at the desk, her back to him. It was a woman, judging from the hair tumbling down her shoulders. From her smell, that perfume that tormented his days and haunted his nights.
Then she turned, a flash of white clutched in one hand, the other buried beneath the voluminous skirt draped over the arms of Cole’s chair. He registered her sound of surprise, and the shock that emanated from her pores as she realized she’d been caught.
In Cole’s office. In his chair. With her hand between her legs.
Anger spurted hot and furious in Des’s chest, swamping the relief that she was okay. How could she be in this room, touching herself, when he’d had his dick on a chokechain for the past year? He’d done everything he could to keep his professional distance. For all he knew, all that time she’d wanted Cole.
Fucking Cole Warner.
He stepped farther into the room and slammed a hand against the door. It clattered shut. She gasped and leaped to her feet, the material from her hand fluttering to the floor.
They were ending this now.
&n
bsp; He stalked behind the desk and yanked up the shirt from the floor. His shirt. She’d been holding his shirt, in Cole’s office. Moaning. Touching her pussy, making his mouth water from the scent he could’ve picked up if he’d been surrounded by a dozen other women. Hers would’ve overridden them all.
Catching it again, he slitted his eyes. She stood next to Cole’s chair, her breathing audible in the small space between them. Her chest lifting and falling, her chin swiveling back and forth as if she were debating making a run for the door.
As if she thought she could get away from him.
She lurched forward and he moved, clamping a hand around her wrist. A startled squeak escaped her before he covered her mouth with his hand, hauling her back against him. “Just be quiet. Do you want everyone to know what you’ve been up to in here?” He allowed himself one illicit brush of his face against her hair. She smelled of her perfume and soap and alcohol, something rich and sweet. Bourbon perhaps, except they weren’t serving that at the party.
Maybe that explained everything. His stalwart secretary was drunk.
He dropped his hand from her mouth. “How much have you had to drink?”
“Let me go.” She yanked her arm but his grip held fast.
“I asked you a question, Wendy.”
“A couple of glasses.”
“How many?”
“Just two, before I came here.” She half-spun to face him, her face contorted with anger. “Let me go.”
“Why?” Ignoring the warning bells clanging in his brain, he gripped her chin. She was trembling faintly, from fury or nerves. Maybe both. “You never drink.”
“How do you know? You don’t know me. No one does.” She broke free of him and released a long, shaky sigh as if she were stunned she’d managed it. Most likely she didn’t realize he’d released her. “Just forget you saw me in here, okay, Des? Please.”
The plea in her voice struck deep inside him and he shut his eyes. Opening them, he let out a sigh of his own. “I can’t.” He pressed his thumb into the shallow indent in her chin. “Go find Cole. Bring him back here.”
“Oh God, I didn’t mean—”
“Just do it, Wendy.” He refused to allow himself to be swayed by her appeal. “Now.”
Three
She did as she was told.
Finding Cole wasn’t difficult. He was always at the center of the biggest group, and tonight was no exception. Feeling like an ashamed child, she slipped between people, murmuring excuses, and tapped his shoulder. He turned, a smile creasing his attractive face. He wasn’t as tempting as Des, but— Oh God, Des.
Cole’s denim blue eyes sobered. “Wen? What’s up?”
“Des asked me to come get you. He’s in your office.”
