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Fletcher sat.
Olivia pushed her tablet an inch away, leaned back in her chair, and lifted her eyes to his.
“I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted,” she replied, crossing her legs and, fucking hell, her skirt slid up her thigh making him swallow.
“Don’t ever think your job is at risk. I should never have reacted like that,” he added.
“Thank you. I wasn’t sure what was wrong.” She pulled her hair around her shoulders. “Well, aside from the obvious.”
Fletcher tried to ignore the images of him gripping her hair in his hands as he thrust into her.
God, this was going to be hard.
“I’m right, aren’t I? It was because of...”
“Us?”
“Yes.” He leaned forward. “I am trying very hard to not want you, but I’m struggling. The things I want to say, the things I want to do to you, Olivia. It’s not going away.”
His eyes dropped to her silk shirt. Her nipples had hardened, begging for his touch.
She swallowed; her eyes dilated.
“I need you to be strong and say no,” he added.
“I did, and we can’t.” She stood. “I should go. Unless there’s anything more?”
He shook his head.
“I’ll see you this afternoon for our meeting with the sponsorship team.”
Fletcher let her leave; her tablet pressed against her chest as if it were a shield, but he knew it was to hide her arousal.
He didn’t have that luxury, and he needed to decide what the hell he was going to do about this because the truth was, nothing had been resolved by fucking her.
Absolutely nothing.
