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More orders. He scooped her up, pulling her onto his lap until she straddled him. Damned if her skirt wasn’t made for the position.
“Just kisses?” His breathing sounded rough as he asked. Only to clarify, because it was important to know where he stood. Sat. Whatever. Danger.
She snuck a peek at Daeg. He could have told her the man slept like the dead. Plus, they’d been up all night. It was a minor miracle any of them were still standing.
“Just kisses.”
He flattened his palm against her heart, savoring the urgent drumbeat. She wanted him, and her need was sexy as hell.
“You’re kissing your boss.”
He leaned in and flicked a button open.
“You can’t undress me here.” She was positively cute when she was shocked.
“Who’s the boss?” He kissed her again to distract her while he flicked buttons two and three open. Her bra was downright wicked—lavender-and-white checks with a strip of sweet, innocent lace outlining her curves. “I like this.”
“I’ll bet you do,” she muttered, shooting an anxious look over at Daeg.
“You could take it off,” he suggested.
“You have a boss-secretary fetish.”
No, he had a thing for Mia. He undid one more button. White cotton gaped away from her silky skin and that damned bra. If she was a secretary, she was a very, very naughty secretary indeed. He wrapped his hand around her thigh.
“Are we agreed?”
“What?” She sounded breathless. Good.
He eased his palm up her thigh.
“That I’m in charge.”
When he slid a finger beneath her thong, she was wet and slick. And he wasn’t, he realized, feeling nice. One quick, hard tug and her panties were his.
“Tag.” She froze, as if she couldn’t believe he’d done what he’d done and in the middle of the office. Well, that made two of them, but she drove him crazy.
“This is why I’m in charge.” He stroked deeper.
She made an unintelligible noise, part moan, part breathy sigh.
“You’re mine,” he said and stroked her again. He could do this for hours, easing her higher. Unfortunately, Daeg stirred, his boots banging against his desk, and the dazed look in her eyes faded.
She slid off his lap and glared at him, holding out her hand for her panties.
“This can’t be anything more than a game. I’m not interested in any kind of a long-distance thing. I had one of those and it didn’t end well.”
“I didn’t know I was a thing,” he muttered after a long moment. His words didn’t come out right, but he also had no intention of returning her panties. Instead, he tucked them into his back pocket.
“A really, really good thing. A sexual thing. Like brownies with chocolate sauce and whipped cream and that little red cherry thing, but right after your doctor tells you to lose twenty pounds.”
He looked her up and down as she buttoned up her shirt. “You look fine to me.”
Understatement.
“I can’t let you be my thing,” she reiterated fiercely. “Because you’re leaving and going back to San Diego and the Navy.”
“And what are you doing?”
“I’m still figuring it out.” His skeptical glance must have said it all because she continued. “I have a plan.”
Of course she did. “That’s what I mean. And I’ll bet your plan is in writing, color coded with action items and deliverable dates. It’s not a plan—it’s a step-by-step diagram of how to take over the world.”
“You think I’m bossy.”
It might be true, but he didn’t need to agree. Ignoring her indignant look, he shrugged. “Too bad,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
“Because I’d make sure I was worth waiting for. You ever had welcome-home sex?” He had no idea why he was arguing with her. He didn’t want a thing with her, either. Absolutely not.
He did up her bottommost button, then ran his finger up to the next one.
“Or been so hot you can’t wait until you’re home so you do it in the car?”
“Pass,” she said, but she didn’t sound certain at all. He did up another button. She sounded aroused.
“Liar,” he whispered against her mouth, tracing his finger over her skin to the next button. “You don’t fantasize about your soldier coming home, dropping his gun on the bedside table, and ravishing you?”
“Because you’d be happy to bring my fantasies to life?”
