It wasn’t easy, but Lily kept her comments to herself while her friends gathered their things and made their way out of the conference room. Marcus locked them out of the building while Lily cut through the hallway, building steam as she went. He swaggered his very fine ass in her direction, and she stepped out of her office, held up a finger, and poked him square in the chest.
“You said Clive bought it.”
“He did.” His thick eyebrows slammed down. “At least, I thought he did.”
She put her hands on her hips. Marcus was an intimidating figure, and took up most of the narrow hallway. “Then why was he looking at me like he knew exactly what’s been happening between us?”
“Between you and Clive?”
“Stop joking for a second.” She put a palm on Marcus’s chest and shoved. He didn’t move. “You know I mean between you and me!”
“What is happening between you and me?” He stepped closer, leaning over her, looking far too serious. She wanted to eat her words and ask him to keep joking. Joking Marcus was easier than Intense Marcus. No less sexy, though.
“He—he just looks very in the know.” She hedged, backing up another step but keeping her palm spread over his very solid pectorals.
“There’s a reason for that. And it’s your fault.” Marcus advanced another step, looming over her now. She was trying her hardest to stay upset, but her resolve was crumbling like stale crackers. Her traitorous body responded, her nipples hardening and poking the thin material of her bra and silk shirt. She clenched her thighs as she studied his firm mouth, her knees wobbling as she attempted to stand her ground. “Clive is very observant,” he continued. “He knows damn well what a satisfied woman looks like. And you”—he wrapped one broad hand around her hip and tugged her against his very solid thighs—“look like a satisfied woman.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but produced no words at all. Usually this would be the point where he would kiss her. But he didn’t. This near to him, her sexual frustration was reaching its peak.
“Not your fault.” He twirled a piece of her hair around his finger and his expression softened. “You’re killing me in this proper little suit,” he said, skating a heated look over her shirt. “My place or yours?”
She swallowed thickly, the hand against his chest beginning to sweat. “I-I’m busy.”
“You’re gonna be,” he said, smiling. “Need to know what bed you’re gonna be in, though. Bringing my A game.”
“Don’t you think—?”
“About you underneath me? Only every other minute. Now answer me, or else I’ll throw you on the nearest desk.”
Heat burst onto her cheeks. He noticed.
“Oh, really?” He smiled down at her.
“No, that’s not…um. The bed is fine.” She shook her head, realizing the futility of arguing with him. It was like her vocal chords were in cahoots with her hormones. Not a single part of her body disagreed with his desk suggestion. She let out a blustery sigh.
“Resistance is futile.”
“No shit,” she grumbled.
“Come on, McIntire. Live a little.”
“I did. In the copier room earlier.”
“Live a little more.” He was smiling and looking so damned gorgeous that she couldn’t help smiling back. “My desk or yours?”
“My desk is—eep!”
He didn’t let her finish, scooping her into his arms and carrying her into his office and kicking the door closed. Arms looped around his neck, her eyes went to his desk, covered with his computer, phone, and everything else.
“Other desk,” he said, tipping his head at the six-foot table against the wall. The wide surface was clear of any papers, pencils, or clutter of any kind.
She locked eyes with Marcus and she realized why the smile slid across her face. Something about him made her…happy. Just plain happy. It was as simple and as complicated as that.
“Did you set the alarm?” she asked as he plopped her down onto the desk. She spread her hands over the surface. She didn’t like to break rules…usually. She didn’t get a weird rush at being deviant.
“Why, worried somebody might catch us?” His smile suggested he wouldn’t.
“If Clive or Joanie forget something and try to come back…”
When she didn’t finish her sentence, he said, “Yes?”
“You really don’t care if they know, do you?”
“I care about one thing.” He fell silent, and she braced for him to say something tender and warm. Something that would make her feel a little too much in the general area of her heart. But she lucked out, because a second later his smirk clicked into place and he said, “Making you come.”
Chapter Seventeen
That was not what he cared about. Okay, it was what he cared about. He cared about making her come a lot. But he also cared about something else.
Her.
He cared about her enough that he was going to continue this insane idea to keep things quiet even though he didn’t like lying to his friends. But not for long. And he needed to let her know that. She sat, legs kicking over the edge of the desk, hair rolling over her shoulders, white shirt doing nothing to hide her peaked nipples…
He’d let her know later. After desk sex.
“Don’t rip my buttons this time. I still have to drive home.”
Why, why did rod-up-her-ass, Lily McIntire do it for him whenever she was being rigid? Probably because he knew she really wasn’t. As a matter of fact, under his hands and his mouth, she was downright pliant. Like melted peanut butter.
Mmm, too bad he didn’t have that in his food cabinet at work.
“Okay, you take it off.” He smoothed his palm over her bare calf down to one rather demure heeled shoe, which he removed and tossed over his shoulder. It thudded to the floor behind him.
“Do you have any idea how much those cost?” Her brow furrowed, fingers hovering over the top button of her blouse.
“Nope.” He moved to the other leg, slid that shoe off, and tossed it into the metal trash can next to his desk. It hit the side with a clang. “Now ask me if I care.”
She gave him a scolding look, but since she was undoing her shirt buttons – and not slowly – he didn’t mind. Not that he’d mind anyway. Lily’s scolding looks were kind of cute.
“Did you get the salon plans approved?” She continued working her buttons, her attention on her shirt. By the time she was pulling it off her shoulders, he was thoroughly perplexed by this turn of conversation. “I was thinking about it today and wondering if it wouldn’t be nice to have a drink station where customers could help themselves. Coffee, tea, maybe a few nice wine selections…”
He held up a hand to stop her. “Are you under the assumption that talking about salon floor plans turns me on? Because it does not.”
“No, I’m not assuming anything. I’m just making conversation.”
His eyes went to a decidedly plain white bra that somehow still looked sexy on her. “Why?”
“Because you said you wanted to work tonight.”
“On getting you naked,” he said. “But I couldn’t exactly blurt that out in the meeting, now could I?”
Before she could argue, which she was poised to do, he stopped the words in her throat by reaching behind her back, flicking the clasp on her bra, and sliding the straps halfway down her arms. “I love that they’re peach.”
“What?” She blinked down at her bare breasts.
“Your nipples.” He ran his thumb over one, watching it harden further under his touch. “They’re perfect.”
“If you’re trying to prove you’re good at seduction, there’s really no need.”
He moved her slim-fitting skirt high on her thighs. High enough to spread her legs and insert himself in between. “Careful, McIntire, that was almost a compliment.”
He lowered his head and took a perfect peach nipple into his mouth. Her hand went to his hair, spearing through the strands as her back arched and she pres
sed her breasts against his face.
This was better. Better than her being combative, better than trying to figure out what came next. Just better. Anything in life was better with his mouth on Lily.
He tongued her breasts while slipping his fingers into her cotton panties, and turning her inside out with precisely placed strokes. Then he dragged them from her legs, leaving them dangling from one of her ankles.
Lily was exquisite, with her skirt hiked to her waist, her head thrown back, strawberry waves spilling over the edge of the desk. She canted her hips and he took advantage of her throes, leaving her for mere seconds to roll on a condom. Then he returned, sliding into her deep, and loving the pleased sound that escaped her mouth.
She was every fantasy come true. From the skirt, to the panties, to her breasts bouncing with his each forward thrust. She’d rested one foot on his shoulder, giving him a hell of a view between her legs. Her other leg was wrapped securely around his waist, pulling him in because she wanted him closer.
Closer.
Desk sex was fantastic, but there was one problem. He couldn’t reach her mouth. And he needed her mouth. Unable to keep his distance any longer, he palmed her back, lifting her. Her lust-filled eyes were hooded, her pupils wide, her breath fanning out and blowing the fine strands of her hair.
His heart constricted, feeling so much for her in this moment, he wasn’t one hundred percent sure she couldn’t read it on his face.
“Dammit, McIntire,” he growled. She looped her arms around his neck and gave him a pleased smile. “Kiss me.”
…
She was unraveling. Marcus had started at her nipples, moved to sliding his fingers between her thighs, and now he was kissing her within an inch of her life.
Desk sex was good.
With Marcus, her mind filled in.
Dangerous thought, that. She swore after her last office relationship, she’d never have another. Granted, she hadn’t had the office relationship literally in an office. Marcus scooted her to the edge of the desk.
His arms wrapped around her, her body molded against his, and his eyes unerringly focused on hers. He took up every ounce of space in her immediate space, filled her vision, filled her body. That’s the way it had been with him. And she couldn’t find it within herself to complain.
The next pull and push of his hips caused pressure to build deep in her core. “Marcus,” she moaned into his mouth. Her thighs clamped.
“That’s it, Lil.” He pounded into her again, knowing just what she needed. “Come, baby. I’ve got you.”
He did have her. He had her cradled in those big arms. But then, she was cradling him between her legs, too. They were holding onto each other.
“I’ve got you,” he repeated.
At his next thrust, she let go—let go while she held onto him, her pulse skyrocketing, her breath shallow, her mind a complete and utter haze.
His release was on the heels of hers, and she enjoyed his orgasm almost as much as she enjoyed her own—the low sounds he made, his masculine scent curling in her nostrils, the way he felt inside her when he let himself go.
Incredible.
He held her to him while his breaths slowed, then he released her, laying her on the table. He kissed her chest, her collarbone, the side of her neck, then placed a soft kiss on the center of her mouth. She fingered his short hair, pushing it away from his forehead, and gave him a thoroughly satisfied smile.
His smile matched hers, lips parting over straight, white teeth, that dimple buried under a few days’ worth of growth. She raked her fingers through his stubble, loving the feel of it now that it was slightly soft.
“Growing a beard?” she asked.
“Want me to?”
She raised a brow. “Would you if I asked?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Yeah.”
Then he kissed her, and the silly romantic inside her wondered what else he’d do if she asked.
It was a tantalizing thought.
…
Cold chicken tasted better when Lily fed it to him.
He opened his mouth and she threw in a piece. She fished out another piece from the container and he opened his mouth, but she kept that bite for herself. He snatched her wrist and pulled her fingertips into his mouth, sucking the sauce off each one.
“Mm. We should eat every meal like this,” she said.
They were perched on the desk they’d made love on—er, banged on, he reminded himself tersely. Thanks to the solid craftsmanship of the Amish, it’d held them both, not wobbling in the least. He’d known it was a good purchase.
Lily redressed but he didn’t have the heart to tell her she’d buttoned her blouse crooked. Her hair was a frizzy tornado, her bare feet were folded under her, and her panties were in his pocket. She’d tried to wrestle them from his grip earlier and failed.
He hadn’t let her have them back, insisting this would be good practice for the RSD dinner. Now that he had the prize in his pocket, he was considering slipping them to her under the table during tomorrow’s meeting. That’d be fun.
“What are you smiling about?” she asked.
“Come home with me.”
Shit. So much for manning up.
She shoveled a bite of food into her mouth with the chopsticks. Gesturing to her chewing mouth, she shrugged like she couldn’t answer.
“You’re doing that on purpose,” he pointed out.
She spent a few more seconds chewing, swallowing, and running her tongue over her teeth.
“Seriously?”
She licked her lips, wiped her fingers along the corners of her mouth, and then said, “Okay.”
“Okay?” He was so shocked by a positive response, he nearly toppled off the desk.
She nodded.
“Okay.” He grabbed his keys from his desk. “Grab your stuff. Let’s go.”
He waited while she retrieved her purse and they left together, Marcus setting the alarm and locking up behind him.
“I’m driving,” he said.
“I can’t leave my car here.” She was halfway to her cherry-red compact already. “Joanie and Clive will wonder what happened.”
“And?”
“And…they will think you gave me a ride home.”
“Then they’ll be right. I’m giving you a ride to my home.”
He saw the worry on her face and paced over to where she stood. “Lil, what are you scared of?”
“I…I’ve done this before. Had a relationship with a guy I worked with.”
He frowned.
“A long time ago,” she added. “When I worked at Lawson and Becker. It didn’t end well.”
“Okay.” News to him. He knew she’d come from L&B before she worked here, but he didn’t know she’d left because of a guy.
“So, you know.” She averted her gaze. “I just don’t want things to end badly between us. For either of us.”
He nodded. Understandable.
He pocketed his keys and palmed her neck, moving her hair over her shoulder. When he pulled her close, she wrapped her arms around his waist. He liked her holding on to him and wished she’d do it a little more. “You can trust me.”
“It’s not that I don’t,” she murmured, resting her cheek against his chest.
He kissed the top of her head.
“I just… I don’t want to try and explain. This is ours. Like the mansion. That’s ours, too. No one would believe what we experienced there. And I don’t want to explain it.” She pulled away from him to look up.
Damn. He got that. Here he’d thought she was ashamed of him. Still… “Fine. But this is a short-term plan. I’ll give you until this weekend, and then you’re going to show up at the RSD dinner, proudly cling to me like…well, like you’re clinging to me now.”
“Marcus.”
“I’m not going to put on a show for the dinner. Make up reasons why I don’t have a date instead of telling everyone the truth—that you’re on my arm. You’re with me.”
&
nbsp; She let go of him. “That makes me so nervous.”
“Why?”
She hoisted an eyebrow. “Almost as nervous as you giving a thank-you speech to over three hundred members of the—”
He pressed his fingertips over her mouth, and then replaced them with his lips. She’d successfully changed the subject. Part of the reason his heart rate had escalated was due to imagining three hundred pairs of eyes on him while he bumbled his way through a speech that was supposed to fill fifteen minutes.
Fifteen minutes.
That was how much time he’d approximated he’d spent with his head between Lily’s thighs the other night, which proved that time was well and truly relative. It’d flown then, with her sounds of pleasure swirling the air. But this morning when he’d practiced his speech in the mirror—yeah, not so much. His throat had closed off at six minutes, and he’d been sweating and shaky.
Not cool.
And definitely not attractive.
If he wanted to show up at the dinner and claim this amazing woman as his own, he’d better make sure he wasn’t a pansy at the podium.
“We can practice,” she said. “Tonight.”
Sweat beaded on his brow. “I have other plans for tonight.”
“Then we’ll practice after we um…” She seemed to choose the words carefully. “Work out.”
“Work out?”
“Yep.” She unlocked her car and lifted the handle. “I’m counting this as exercise.”
He let her have that…and the fact that she was driving herself. “My place, McIntire.”
“See you there, Black.”
…
He swiped his forehead with his hand, swallowing thickly and feeling like his airway was partially closed. “It’s hot in here.”
“It’s not hot. You’re hot, though.” Lily leaned on a pile of pillows on his slate gray sheets, her naked body covered with a sheet, looking sated and relaxed, her hair a bigger mess than earlier.
He felt like he’d worked out—run a marathon, actually. His muscles were loose and spent, his mind was clear. She was going to regret making this bet.
If You Dare Page 15
