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“Micah…” I start with a laugh. “Do they honestly believe we both need to do paperwork? It takes one of us a couple hours, at most, to get through it.”
He stops shaking the drink, sets it down and steps into my personal space. “They have no clue what our job entails. Even if they did, I wouldn’t give a fuck.” Another step in my direction and we are toe to toe. Heat radiates off him and is like a match to my libido. “Go. I’ll be there soon.”
I drop the towel I picked up at some point and start for the office. As I pass the group, I give a courteous wave and smile. Seven return my way. When I reach the hall and step out of sight, my stride kicks into high gear. Once in the office, I shut the door but leave it unlocked.
With no idea when Micah will waltz in or what he had in mind, I plop down in the desk chair and get to work. Whether or not it is his intention for us to actually work, invoices and orders still need to get done.
Thirty minutes later, I input the third invoice and set it in the “to be filed” pile. As I pick up the next, the office door swings open and Micah strides in. He studies me behind the desk, licks his lips, and locks the door.
Dear lord, someone help me with this man.
“Almost done,” I croak out as he saunters across the room.
“Good. Means we have more time.”
“More—”
Before I finish the question, he spins the chair so I face him, bends down and smashes my lips with his. Stunned, it takes me two swipes of his lips over mine before I react. Then I fist his shirt and haul him closer. The chair slides back, smacks into the wall, and we laugh.
Micah loops his hands under my arms and stands me up. He brings his lips back to mine, snakes his arms around my waist, and walks us toward the couch. Carefully, he lowers himself to sit on the couch, then hauls me forward so I straddle him.
Fingers grip my hips, my ass as I rock against him. Lips and tongues and teeth assault each other, hungry. Starved. Downright famished. He breaks the kiss and licks his way down the column of my throat. A hand palms my breast, pinches my nipple between the material.
Fire and ache and titillation course through my veins, awaken every nerve ending, and scorch every square inch of my skin. If we were anywhere else, I would rip off my shirt then his. Press our bare flesh together and taste him.
But we aren’t somewhere else. And I will not take this next level at work. At least that is what I tell myself.
“Micah.” His name jagged and breathy on my tongue as I grind against his erection. “We have to…” God, this feels so fucking good. “We need to…” He nips at the skin along my collarbone and my eyes roll back. “Stop,” I pant out. “We need to stop.”
He licks from the thick strap of my top to the hollow of my throat. I rock against his hips and moan in his ear.
“You want this to stop, hellcat? You’re gonna need to stop doing that,” he mumbles into the crook of my neck.
Did I say I wanted this to stop? The word want never left my lips. No. Because I want this to continue. More than anything. But we need to stop. Not that she has in quite a while, but Ani—or Sean—could waltz into Roar at any moment. Last thing either of us needs is to have just-fucked hair and rumpled clothes.
I inch back and lock eyes with Micah. The starry gold flecks in his dark irises smolder. Burn hot and beg for more as he continues to fist my hips.
“Never said want,” I say, my voice gruff and wobbly.
His brows pinch above his nose. “Huh?”
“You said if I wanted this to stop… I never said want. Need is what I said. That we need to stop.”
He drops his forehead to my shoulder and groans. “Why do you have to be right?” And I love how his whiny and muffled words vibrate my skin, my chest. I comb my fingers through his hair, scrape his scalp with my nails. The pads of his fingers dig into my hips as a groan rumbles up his throat. “Better stop doing that or we won’t stop.”
Huffing out a breath, I lean away and force myself off his lap. I offer my hand once upright. “Come on, starlight. If you want to hang with your friends, we need to get some actual work done.”
Micah takes my hand, rises from the couch and adjusts himself. “I’ll finish with the invoices if you’ll work on ordering.”
“Deal,” I tell him.
When we keep our hands to ourselves, work actually gets accomplished. Over the next hour, we wrap up the invoices, file them away, and input a supply order. Everything done and back in its rightful place, we head for the door.
But before I unlock it, Micah whips me around and pins me to the door. He clutches my chin between his thumb and forefinger. Eyes locked on mine. Lips a breath away.
“Kiss me. Before we leave this room and have to force ourselves to maintain a distance, kiss me.”
This side of Micah is so new. His urgency to have me. To taste me. Feel me. Possess me. It calls out to my baser instincts. Wakes me up and revitalizes parts I didn’t know were asleep.
As for his steady demand for me to kiss him…
With his grip still on my chin, I lean closer. But rather than give him the kiss he craves, I lick up the stubble on his chin, over his lips and stop at the top of his philtrum. He reacts with unfathomable speed.
Micah wraps his fingers around my wrists and pins them over my head. Presses his hips to mine and locks me in place—not that I planned on moving. Slides a foot between mine and kicks my feet out. Then leans in and traces the tip of his nose up the column of my throat, stopping just below my ear.
“Tsk, tsk, hellcat. Really should be mindful of your actions. You wanted me on my best behavior, but that… you just handed over your one-way ticket. There’s no going back.”
My chest heaves, nipples taut and chafing the material of my bra and shirt. With the taste of him on my tongue, his scent invading my nose, his body pressed to mine… fuck, I am tempted to provoke the beast. Within him and me.
“One-way ticket?” I wheeze out.
He gyrates his hips, his erection unyielding as it rubs my clit through my pants and his.
“Mmhm.” A hand trails down my arm, the side of my torso and lands on my hip. His tongue darts out and licks the spot beneath my ear. And I don’t fight the shiver that rolls through my body. “Best hold on, hellcat.”
Before I ask what he means, he drops to his knees in front of me. Deft fingers make quick work of the button and zipper on my pants. Two breaths later, my pants are at my ankles as he traces his nose along the fabric of my panties. Inhaling deeply, his palms slide up my thighs, grasp the thin straps of my underwear and wiggle them down, down, down.
We shouldn’t be doing this. Not at work.
