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I’ve been holding back for days, and this feeling right here, it’s shaking the ground beneath me, threatening to send my walls toppling over.
I’m aware of all of this, but I can’t find it in me to run. Not from her. Not again. Not right now.
“Come here, Curly,” I beg.
Her throat bobs with a swallow. “No. You come here.”
I was right earlier. It only took a few days, but my Braxton is back. The quick-tongued, fiery girl who never took my shit and could give it back just as good as I gave it.
Before she has a chance to prepare herself, I’m moving, leading her back into the office with my confident steps and kicking the door shut behind us. I don’t stop moving until her ass hits the desk, and she gasps, staring up at me with wild eyes.
In one quick movement, I grip the backs of her thighs and lift her onto the smooth wood, setting her down as gently as possible. I place my hands on the desk and move in close, selfishly filling her space with my presence. A small part of me expected her to fight me on it and maybe push me away, but instead, she shifts, and I glance down to find her legs spreading just enough that I can move my body between them. Finding her eyes again, I lick my bottom lip and exhale a long breath.
“There will be reporters watching us tonight, making sure we’re really together. We should practice so everything looks believable,” I breathe, nudging her nose with mine.
It’s a copout. An excuse to kiss her. And it’s obvious.
We’ve already practiced. I’ve already felt her against me, tasted her mouth and ached for more. But I need more. I need it right now.
I press my mouth to her cheek and fight off a shudder. The feel of her against me has me losing my mind. Our closeness is almost too much but also not nearly enough. I kiss her cheek and then trail my lips across her skin to her jaw, kissing her there too.
She grabs at my sides and breathes out shakily, digging her fingers in. “Practice how? We already kissed. Twice.”
I shake my head and bury my face in her neck. She smells so fucking good. “Those were different circumstances. This is big time. Their attention will be solely on us. Those kisses won’t cut it this time.”
“Okay.” She shudders against me, and I move one hand from the desk to her back, bringing her to my body. “So, what will?”
I drag my nose up the column of her throat, breathing her in one last time. When our eyes meet again, they lock and hold as tension makes the air crackle around us.
“It has to be real. Passionate. Sexy. Reporters can smell a fake relationship from a mile away.” My lids fall to half-mast as I hover my mouth over hers and slip my hand from her back to her waist. “Tell me you want me to show you.”
I watch her lips as she says, “I want you to show me.” And then her mouth is mine.
A rough, strangled groan escapes me the moment our lips touch, and she leans up, offering herself to me. I tighten my grip on her waist and grab the back of her neck with my other hand, threading her hair through my fingers and using the silky strands to pull her head back, giving me easier access.
She pushes her chest out and tries to move closer, seeking my body, and I ache to give her what we both want, but her dress stops me. The way it’s pulled tight at her thighs keeps me from pressing us together, and without thinking, I’m splaying my hands on her thighs and curling my fingers in the velvet.
A barely audible whimper hits my mouth as she pulls back just enough to look down between us, at my fingers that are pushing the bottom of her dress up her thighs, inch by fucking inch.
“It’s staying on, baby. It’s just in my way,” I murmur, breathless. This is the most intimate we’ve ever been, and my chest feels crowded, like my heart has grown five sizes.
Her nails dig into my side. “It’s okay. Keep going.”
We both watch as it climbs higher and higher, exposing more of her bare thighs and making it harder to keep from dropping to my knees and kissing the soft, creamy skin over and over until she pushes me away.
Once it’s no longer in my way, I leave it so that it still hides her panties and drift my hands back down her legs, stopping just above her knees. Then, I step closer, parting her legs further and finally pressing us together.
Her gaze flies up at the brief feel of my cock against her centre, and then she’s capturing my mouth again, this time slipping her tongue between my already parted lips. A rumble grows in my chest when she covers one of my hands with hers and starts to move it to her inner thigh, holding it in place.
I squeeze it but keep it right where it is. Caution has me stumbling around in my mind, unsure of what to do next. Suddenly, my confidence is gone, and I’m breaking the kiss and rearing back, breathing heavily.
“I think that’s good,” I wheeze, staring behind her at a blank wall. “Good job.”
“I shouldn’t have done that,” she rambles, her voice quivering with hurt.
“No, I shouldn’t have. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. This wasn’t right.”
Angry with myself, I drop my forehead to her shoulder and tense my jaw. I want to keep her close but also run as far as possible. Expecting to feel guilt and regret for what just happened, I wait for it to hit me, but it doesn’t. I don’t know if that makes me feel relieved or even more confused.
