Page 32 of Illicit


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My eyes tingled from the pressure of the tears pushing at the backs of them, but I would not cry over this man, or his bitchy receptionist who knew exactly what she was doing when she allowed me to go back there in the middle of a tense meeting.

He’d been an asshole, but I should have expected as much. If Cabot Reed was anything, he was that.

I’d allowed myself to get swept up with the other side of him, but he’d asked me, with perfect clarity, and–

Ugh!

Point

Freaking

Blank

–if I could keep my two lives separate.

And maybe this was why. Maybe he was the problem, not me. Maybe he needed me to keep his two lives separate. Maybe it wasn’t about me at all, but about him and his fucking dual personalities.

I chewed on my bottom lip as I scrolled aimlessly through mindless videos without sound. My toes tapped an angry rhythm as I waited, my mind oscillating between wanting to run away and never come back, and desperately wanting to charge back into his office, interrupt his stupid meeting, and give that man a piece of my mind.

He said he liked my mouth? Well, we’d just see about that.

I put my phone down and picked up a magazine.

Forbes.

I snorted. Of course it was Forbes.

Not Publisher’s Weekly or something else book-related, but Forbes.

If I dug deeply enough, I’d probably find his secret stash of Nepotism News.

I snorted as I blindly flipped through the pages, then slapped the magazine back down on the table. Breathing deeply, I tilted my head back and closed my eyes. It was nearing nine-thirty and I needed to get a grip on myself before I faced him.

I couldn’t be emotional. Reed wasn’t a man who could be handled in that way, but I better figure out how to handle him quickly.

What was I going to say? How would I address the way he’d just behaved?

The truth of the matter was that I had shown up early. I had shown up before he’d asked me to and then had the audacity to stroll right into his office like I owned the place and interrupt a meeting.

Whoops.

And, regardless of whatever sexual situation was blooming between us outside of Reed Tower, here, on the seventy-fifth floor, I was an intern and he was the chief executive officer.

There were certain rules that had to be followed, protocols to be respected.

Sure, he’d been a dick, but I was also guilty–

“Ms. Blake.”

My head snapped up at the sound of his voice.

“Sleeping on the job again?”

I ran my tongue over my teeth. I couldn’t tell if he actually thought I was sleeping or if he was trying to lighten the mood. I rose to my feet without saying a word. He’d hear from me, just not out here with Stella’s smug smirk anywhere within my line of vision. Squaring my shoulders, I strode past him without looking at either of them. When I reached his office, I set my stuff down and turned to face the door, leaning my hips against his desk and crossing my arms over my chest.

He stepped inside, paused when he registered the look on my face, then closed the door and faced me.

We stood in silent battle for some time, then he finally said, “If this is going to work, you have to tell me what’s on your mind.”

I scoffed.

He didn’t say anything more, which just made my mouth drop open further.

Reed’s eyebrows rose in silent challenge.

He locked the door.

With a deep breath, I tried to ignore the way the scent of him affected my body, then pushed off the desk. “If this is going to work,” I said, my voice low and far more dangerous than I’d ever heard it before as I stalked toward him, “you can never speak to me like that again.”

“You interrupted a meeting.”

“So?”

His eyes twitched. “I can’t promise I won’t speak to you that way again.”

I stopped just a foot away from him. “Why not?”

“If you piss me off…” He took a step forward, closing the distance.

“If I piss you off, what?”

His hand snaked around my neck and my lips parted as he tilted my head back. “You’re going to piss me off again, aren’t you?’

“Yeah. You can probably bet on that.”

His eyes darkened. His breathing picked up. “Did you make a decision?”

I swallowed, and with the way my head was tilted back, the sound was audible.

He licked his lips.

I had made a decision. And, earlier, I had been excited to share it with him.

But, in an absolutely not shocking turn of events, he’d acted like a pompous asshole, and now I wanted to punish him.

So I waited, even though we both knew where this was headed.

What did it say about me that even after his reprehensible behavior, I still wanted him?

God, possibly even more so now.

I liked him angry.

My body thrummed with that desire. It coursed through my veins, intoxicating, liquid heat that pooled in my groin–

“Answer me, goddammit,” he growled, the sound low and deep.

Primal.

Fuck it. I’d punished him long enough. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Master–”

His lips were on mine before I’d even finished the word. They pressed against mine, painfully hard as he claimed my mouth.

He didn’t kiss me, he claimed me.

His hand around my neck tightened and he moved me backward until I hit the desk, then slid both hands around my neck. His thumbs dug into my cheeks as he turned my head to give him better access to my mouth.He slanted his mouth over mine more fully and I groaned into his kiss, chasing each firm stroke of his tongue with matching, hungry strokes of my own. His hands moved over my shoulders, pushing the blazer down my arms with fevered need. I scrambled to pull it off, then pushed up on my tiptoes to kiss him again.

But he pulled back, searching my gaze as he fought to catch his breath. He wrapped his arms around my waist and lifted me until I sat on his desk, then slid his hands beneath my skirt and shoved it up around my waist. His eyes flashed with predatory hunger as his gaze landed on the matching green satin between my legs.

Then he took a step back. His head dropped and his body rocked forward. “Jesus, fuck.”

No no no

Don’t stop now

I reached for him and tugged him forward until he stood between my legs again, then I grabbed his hand and pushed it between my thighs. As soon as his fingers connected with my heat, we both moaned, and our mouths crashed together once more.

Roughly, he slid the fabric aside and drove his fingers through the wetness. He dragged his mouth down my cheek, nibbled along the edge of my chin, then moved lower, tasting me with hungry, open-mouthed kisses as he traveled over my skin. I panted louder with each stroke of his fingers, each flick of his tongue, tangling my hands in his hair as he lowered to his knees and shoved my legs apart as far as they would go.

Arching, I leaned back on his desk and pushed toward him.

“Fuck,” he moaned, “I want you so fucking bad.”

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