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My fingers tremble, tracing his jawline, admiring him like I’ve always wanted to.
My leg curls around his, refusing to let go, overriding the last snapping denial in my head.
“Kitten, fuck,” he whispers, moving a possessive hand from my waist.
He takes my chin, gently but firmly, holding my face up to meet his eyes.
His whole gaze is an invisible thrust, splitting me open, naked and wet and fully surrendered.
Sighing, I wrap my arms around his neck and brush my other leg against his. I curl my ankle around his shin and slide it up his leg.
His hand falls to my bare thigh, and he hikes up my skirt in one rough jerk. His hands find my ass and his fingers dig in, holding me up, quickening the wet heat in my core.
This is my new reality.
Up against the wall with a boss I’m supposed to hate, tangled and clinging to him for dear life. A man who always soothes my dogs, who I also work for, and who still wants my land.
It’s as ludicrous as it sounds, and yet, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
Even through our layered clothes, the hard, thick ridge moving against my softness is an invitation to heaven.
But he breaks our kiss with a ragged breath a second later.
“Jenn, if you don’t listen to anything else I say tonight—” His lips sear my chin and then my lips again. “Stay away from her.” His lips press mine again and his teeth come out before his tongue dips into my mouth, angry and searching. “Stay the fuck away from Simone Niehaus. You have no idea what you’re getting into. Please trust me.”
I try to nod, but I can’t.
“Promise me,” he commands, pulling back, laying his forehead against mine.
Holy hell.
I think I’d promise him the Taj Mahal right now.
“Y-yes. I promise,” I stammer, sliding my hands from the back of his neck and then down his chest.
Miles ripples under my hands, all defined strength and corded muscle. My fingers dip under his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders.
He shifts his weight, allowing me to remove the jacket one arm at a time.
Then he’s on me again, speaking new orders in new biting kisses against my throat.
“Oh. Oh, Miles,” I whimper.
He licks up my neck, teasing with his teeth like the vampire hero he is. “Pace yourself, woman. There’s a lot more catnip where that came from.”
I sigh softly, answering by working his top button open.
He rolls his head back.
I pop the next button.
“You’re playing with fire now, kitten.” His mouth crushes mine again, more eager than before.
His tongue thrusts against mine with carnal delight.
Shaking, I undo the whole row of buttons and work the shirt off.
“Miles?”
He releases my mouth, almost gasping for air. “Yeah?”
“You said I’m playing with fire?”
“Damn right.” He thrusts his pelvis against mine. “Tell me it doesn’t burn.”
“God.” I instinctively move in closer, deepening the friction, the sweetness. “As long as it’s a slow burn...”
But part of me hopes for a wildfire.
Too much of me asks for no mercy.
He makes quick work of pulling my dress over my head, unclasping my bra with one hand, and I shrug out of it.
My hands move to his slacks, opening them as I’m lifted away from the wall.
“What—”
He silences me.
His lips are on mine.
His tongue is in my mouth.
He’s taking my all, everything I am in one growling kiss.
And I realize there’s no place for words here.
Not when I’m submerged in one electric wave of sensation.
And the rumble in his throat comes like thunder as he carries me to his desk, swiping everything off it with a single sweep of his arm.
I’m tumbling down on dark wood a second later, my eyes fused to his, two storms of pure lust melting together.
This time, when he presses his lips against mine, it’s tender and sweet.
“Last chance to turn back. Tell me you want this,” he whispers.
I nod until my neck stings.
“But here? Like this? If you want to wait—”
It’s sweet that he’s containing himself—barely—just for me. But I lean up, taking his lips with mine.
“No way. I can’t.”
With a rough smile, Miles climbs over me, grabbing my wrists as he drapes me over his desk with long, slow, carnivorous kisses.
Forget the slow burn.
I am the fire as I arch up against him, his hand against my panties, his thumb digging into my clit.
He releases my mouth and trails kisses down my neck and clavicle, opening his mouth over one breast.
When his tongue flicks my nipple, I’m obliterated.
Closer to coming in a way I never even knew I could.
“Miles!”
Snarling, he covers my other breast with his hand, running circles over the hard peak. His other thumb strokes my clit again, faster than before, a hypnotic friction I don’t have a prayer of ignoring.
So close.
So flipping close it hurts.
And just when I’m about to scream, he stops, pulling away and dragging his lips lower, lower, oh God, lower.
