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My knees go weak as his taste runs through me, coffee and vanilla and mint. His five o’clock shadow is rough against my cheek as he plunges his tongue between my lips like he’s trying to devour me whole. In this moment, I would let him.
He fists the back of my shirt as though he knows I’ll collapse otherwise, dragging me further into his office and kicking the door closed behind us.
“You’re an asshole.” I groan as more anger ignites in me, though it isn’t for him this time. It’s for myself. I know this is wrong, and I know that I hate him, but I can’t stop wanting him, either. If the hardness poking against me is anything to go by, he feels the same.
His hum vibrates through his chest as he moves his kisses to my neck, down to my collarbone. “You’re impossible.”
“You’re… You’re…” I can’t even think straight when squeezes my breast and the button of my blouse pops open to reveal my lacy bra.
I drag him backward until the back of my thighs hits the sharp desk corner, gasping. He hikes my knees up, throwing me onto the edge and sinking between my legs as he litters me with more frantic kisses.
What are we doing?
CHAPTER9
Madison
o o o
Ishould say no. I should push him away. I should be terrified of history repeating itself, but none of this feels the same as it did in Italy. It feels… right. I feel like I’m an equal here, like I have as much control over him as he does over me. He could have fired me on the spot for yelling at him, but instead, he dragged me in here. That has to mean something.
My trembling fingers unbutton his shirt as he runs his hands between my thighs. I’m ashamed of the way my hips buck on instinct. I can’t even hide the way I want him. I’m desperate, my core pulsing until I’m painfully aware of the clothes chafing my skin. My nipples are tight pebbles, my skin raw and hungry and foreign.
Roman’s chest is muscled and dusted by dark hair. A small birthmark sits just above his ribs, and my mouth waters as I trace along his peaks and valleys. His hands crawl further into my skirt in response, grabbing at anything he can take, like a thief in a store.
Only he isn’t a thief, because I invited him in.
“Sit back,” he growls, lowering to his knees. “Let me show you how much of an asshole I can be.”
He yanks me forward so he’s level with my heat, and I squirm, running my fingers through his gelled dark hair.
I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as the sight of Roman Sterling between my thighs, eyeing me like he’s a man starved and I’m his next meal. God, I want to be his next meal — and I hate myself for it.
That frustration wells as I urge his face closer. He grins up at me, his tongue flicking across his teeth. He reminds me of a wolf, bloodthirsty and ready to pounce.
Then, he buries his face into me, tearing away my panties so roughly that a thick whimper falls straight from my throat. His sculpted nose brushes against my clit, warm breath fanning against the place where I ache most.
I’m about to beg, only I don’t have to. His tongue swipes between my folds, and then he’s feasting on me.
I’ve never felt a pleasure like it. My entire body is set alight. I rock and convulse and mewl, my back arching as I lean my hands behind me for support, knocking papers and folders off the desk in the process. He grips me as though determined never to let me go, working his tongue inside me as he uses his thumb to toy with my clit.
“Oh…” I whisper, trembling. “Oh, God.”
He laughs into me, and it vibrates into every bone, every muscle, every vein. It doesn’t take long for my orgasm to build, a rollercoaster that rushes up as quickly as it comes down. I use a hand to trap my screams as he hastens his movements, twisting a finger into me and running it along my walls.
“Roman!” I shout his name as I climax, riding out the waves of raw, overwhelming bliss against his hot mouth until my thighs quake.
My head falls back as reality sinks in again. He’s still holding me, gathering my cum between his fingers and sucking as our gazes lock.
“I knew you’d taste sweet,” he murmurs.
He places a tender kiss on my knee before he rises, hands bracketing me at either side as he leans closer. His dick is bulging against his crotch, and I ache to reach out and give him the same pleasure.
But I can’t.
Horror slices through my haze, and I cover my mouth with my clammy hands. This is wrong. On so many levels, this is wrong. I’m Leo’s nanny. He’s my brother’s best friend. We swore this would never happen, and already it has. The Make-out of Regret has transcended into something far worse.
I push myself up on shaky legs, driving him away as I tug at my bunched skirt. “This… This was a mistake.”
