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I don’t think about what I do next.
Although, I probably should’ve.
I came up with a million lies to tell him, but as I look at his face, I can’t utter any one of them.
So I move on to something else.
Distraction.
Using my hold on his jacket, I pull him close and slam my lips to his. It’s just that at first, my mouth on his in the silence of the office.
Then a growl echoes in the air.His.
My thoughts scatter and wither into nothingness as one of his palms forcefully grabs my nape and the other remains on my waist. Big, warm, and…safe.
It’s the last thought I should have about this situation or him, but it’s there, in the back of my screwed-up mind—this is safe.
Completely and utterly safe.
He kisses me slowly as if, like me, he doesn’t believe this is happening.
After years.
Eleven, to be exact, but who’s counting, right?
I try to be in control, I really do. I’m the one who started this and it should be on my terms and mine alone. So I keep my lips shut.
“Let. Me. In.” He accentuates every word with a bite against my lower lip and when I don’t comply, he traps the sensitive skin between his teeth and bites down so hard, I’m surprised there’s no blood. “Fucking. Open.”
My mouth parts with a whimper and he uses the chance to thrust his tongue inside. My insides liquefy at the raw passion and unapologetic strength he holds me with.
He kisses me like he wants to ruin me and worship my body at the same time. He kisses me like I’m his arch-enemy and only friend.
My head swims with the conundrums, and it blurs the signs of the panic attack I usually get under similar circumstances.
His tongue toys with mine, licks it, and renders it completely helpless. A moan reverberates in the air and I’m not sure if it’s his or mine.
I’m not even sure what I’m doing anymore. I only meant to shut him up, but it’s turning into so much more.
It’s turning into something I can’t stop or control, not even if I wanted to.
My legs part wide when he settles between them, and that causes the arousal I’ve been helplessly reining in to smear my core.
At first, I don’t put two and two together, but then I sense the emptiness of his hand on my waist. Not long after, two long, calloused fingers trace the line of my underwear. They slip beneath the fabric, teasing my clit, then thrust in my opening.
All in one go.
I gasp against his mouth, my stomach clenching. Despite the pleasure, despite the sloppy sound of the in and out of his fingers, I feel like throwing up.
No, not only feel.I amgoing to throw up.
I wrench my swollen, battered lips away from his and grab his wrist over my dress, causing his hand to stop.
The shake of my head is as frantic as what he must see in my unfocused eyes. “D-Daniel…”
“What?” There’s a cutting darkness in his tone, a challenge that he’s baiting me to take. “If you want me to stop, tell me why.”
“Why would you care? Why do you even want me?”
