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She’s still wearing the blouse-and-skirt ensemble she came to work in. The same outfit begging me to take her over my desk.
That can’t happen tonight, but I can take her on damn near every surface of my house.
She’s made me that insane, absolutely certifiable.
“We said just the weekend...” she whispers. The way her hand slides up my stomach and toys with the first button of my shirt says she couldn’t care less what lines we tried to draw. “But I figured maybe we could make an exception for tonight, seeing as I’m here and we’re already in trouble...”
“Woman, have I mentioned I love how you think?” I can’t think straight. Not when my lips collide with hers, all braising heat and pulsing need. “Missing this chance would be an atrocity. Now, bed or wall?”
“Bed or what?” Her eyes go wide.
“You heard me. You have five seconds.”
I don’t give her that long before she’s in my arms and we’re rushing across the room. I plow our tangled bodies against the side of my fireplace, pinning her down and drinking deep, taking until she gasps.
“Oh! Shepherd.”
Yeah, fuck.
Give it to me, sweetheart.
Give itall.
I do my damnedest to drive it out of her, teasing her little tongue until it darts out to moisten the pad of her bottom lip.
She’s panting when I pull away, glancing at the ceiling like she can see through it to the bedroom and then straight to the stars. “Bed. It has to be.”
My eyebrows go up in genuine surprise.
“Don’t get me wrong,” she explains. “I’d love to have you keep going right here, but... I don’t think Molly would like that.”
I whip around and find the husky staring, sitting behind me quietly with her furry head cocked.
Shit.
I’m not used to having a third wheel with any woman.
The primal part of me may be annoyed at having to stomp the brakes. The rest of me is amused.
How long has it been for her?
How bad am I for wanting to be the first man she’s been with in nearly a year—or at least the first one she trusts around her dog?
Still, we shouldn’t push it.
That’s a good way to wind up with a barking fit of confusion ruining the mood when you’re on the brink.
“Upstairs?”
She smiles, raking her nails down my chest. “Yes. Good idea.”
The journey up gives me just enough time to process this insanity.
No, dammit, we shouldn’t have sex again.
I know that deeply as I grab her hand and practically drag her up the long floating staircase with me.
She stares at the glass cabinets and backlit display walls with pieces of my life and meaningful art I’ve collected over the years, but she doesn’t say anything as I lead her into my bedroom.
