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“You know you were way less combative at the coffee shop,” she muses.
“Life was way less terrifying when I thought all you did all day was pour coffee.”
“Touché.” Her lips tilt, and I want to kiss the small smirk lingering there.
“I wish I could wrap you up in cotton wool.”
“Iwish you’d accept our shitty situation and trust me to be part of your team.”
I know she’s about to try and convince me, yet again, to let her concoct some dangerous plan to win the loyalty of all the Seconds over from my father, but it’s too risky.
“My team is me and you. And Ezra and Sawyer. I don’t give a fuck about any of the others; they’re here for their own reasons. I don’t even care about The Games. It’syou, Harlow.”
She kisses me first. I’ve been trying not to push her, knowing I should be happy just to have her forgive me, but goddamn, I’ve waited for this—waited to know what she tastes like. This isn’t a chaste first kiss, this is years of want and hunger exploding between us.
She wraps her arms around my neck as I wind mine around her waist, pulling her toward me so our bodies connect. Her fingernails against my scalp make me shudder, and the feel of her chest against mine, her tongue tangling with mine, is intoxicating. I’ve no doubt she can feel the effect she has on me against her stomach; this is confirmed when she reaches between us, squeezing my length through my joggers. I groan, my hips thrusting reflexively against her palm as I feel her smile against my lips.
“Don’t tease,” I warn her. I’ve waited for this for so long I’m not sure how much teasing I could take, and my office in the compound isn’t exactly where I pictured this happening. She nips at my bottom lip, running her hand up and down my length before slipping it beneath my waistband. My stomach tenses as her soft palm connects with me bare, and I stifle another groan, my hips taking on a mind of their own.
“I’m not teasing.”
“Harlow—”
“Nico,” she replies. “Do I have to ask nicely? Please fuck me,” she purrs into my mouth, and my control is hanging on by a thread.
“Do you know how many times I’ve been desperate to slide into you since we had our first shift together?” I ask, spinning her so her back is against my chest. “How many times I imagined bending you over the counter at The Grind?” I push her lightly between her shoulder blades so she’s bent at the hips, her breasts pressed against my desktop. “Remember the day you spilled that coffee? Do you know how many times I’ve come over the memory of your tits?”
I grind my solid dick against her ass as she pushes back against me, and I’m desperate to be inside her. I pull back enough to tug her leggings down just enough to leave them tight around her thighs, clamping her legs together. “How loud would you be if I sank into you in one?” I do just that with one long finger, pulling a whimper out of Harlow’s throat.
“Nico,” she whimpers.
“Soon, baby, soon.” A knock at the door has her tensing, and she tries to stand, but I don’t let her, my hand flat on her back. “Do not move a muscle.”
I take a step back to test her, but she stays where she is, bent over and bare for me, and I have to swallow a groan. I nearly ignore whoever is outside completely, but another knock comes a little louder. I rearrange myself before making my way over, then unlock the door and pull it open slightly—not enough for anyone to see inside, beyond me—but when I see it’s my uncle, I step outside and pull the door closed.
“Nico,” he says conversationally. “I’m working on it—trying to keep your father away from Harlow.”
“Yeah, you’re always trying,” I say with a sigh. “Hasn’t worked out so far.”
“What do you mean?” He’s not expecting me to be argumentative with him, but now I know he was the one who drugged Harlow. Even if he was under instruction from my father, he still put his hands on her. Plus, she’s horny and waiting inside my office, and he’s keeping me from her, which doesn’t earn him any points.
“I mean he’s out of control. If he was a dog, he’d have been put down by now.”
With that parting shot and my uncle’s frown deepening, I go back into my office, relocking the door to find Harlow exactly where I left her.
“Such a good girl,” I murmur, almost in awe as I position myself behind her again. I take her golden hair down from its bun, fisting it in a low ponytail. Pulling her head back gently, I trace her entrance from behind. “You’re so wet,” I tell her, and she practically mewls at the praise in my voice as she wiggles her rear, tempting me. I love that she’s letting me do this—take complete control of our pleasure and use her how I want.
I line myself up with her and press just hard enough to breach her entrance, but not enough to slide in all the way, intent on drawing out the teasing for as long as I can. That’s clearly too long for Harlow, because she pushes her hips back until more slides into her, and she instantly clenches around it. I drop her hair with a groan, my hands flying to her hips, pinning her still as the last of my restraint snaps.
“Shit, Harlow, you ready?”
“Yes,” she breathes.
“Keep quiet. These doors aren’t thick,” I remind her, and she tightens, presumably at the thought of getting caught like this.
“Does that turn you on? Someone hearing you like this? At my mercy?” I growl, leaning over her, and she tries to press back again.
“Nico, plea—”
