Miss Match

by Laurelin McGee

  With a great amount of willpower, he paused, stepping back to gauge her reaction and assure his venture was approved. Sure he was a man who took what he wanted, but even in his lust-filled haze he recognized the impropriety of the situation. A boss banging his employee in the middle of the office? He better at least have her permission.

  With a brow raised in question, his eyes met hers.

  She answered quick and sure. “Touch me, Blake Donovan.” Her voice was thick with desire. He stared at her, unblinking. “I said, touch me!”

  Never in his life had Blake been given orders during sex.

  It was the most goddamn sexy thing he’d ever heard.

  He snapped back into position, pulled like a magnet by her command. One of his hands grabbed a fistful of curls, and they were just as soft as he’d imagined. Even better was the breathy gasps she made as he tugged on them. He wanted to explore her body, cup and squeeze her breasts until her nipples hardened to twin peaks. Strip her of all her clothing and stare at her flushed skin.

  But this was frantic and unplanned. And in the office. Not a time for savoring, and with Andrea now working on the zipper of his pants and the echo of her touch me playing in his ears, he felt obligated to return his fingers to the apex of her thighs.

  Sliding beneath the crotch of her panties, he trailed his finger along the top of her cleft, so near to where he knew she wanted him yet so far away. Her hand stilled at the waistband of his briefs as he taunted her. “Is this where?” His tone was low and gravelly as his thumb settled in her nest to find her clit. “Is this where you want me to touch you?”

  She didn’t make him ask again. “Yes.” Andrea wriggled under his touch. “Yes, please, yes.”

  He swirled his thumb against the swollen bud, watching her reaction as he exerted differing pressures. When her breathing grew heavier and her grip on his hair tightened, he felt sure that he’d discovered exactly what it was that she liked. And her expression—lids half closed, her face tightened into a look of impending pleasure—it was almost enough to get him off without anything else. He had to look away.

  Returning his attention to his actions, he splayed his fingers like he was holding a bowling ball, one playing at her bud while he slid two digits down to test her hole. Ah, she was wet. So wet. And tight. But he was sure she was wet enough to take care of that. He could slip in now, certain she was ready to accommodate him. Yet he could sense she was close and even though he knew this wasn’t an occasion to indulge, he wanted her to come apart all over him. For him.

  Even in the throes of passion he recognized that this was absurd overthinking for a quick office shag. Damn, this woman …

  She was amazing.

  In awe, he watched as she reached the edge and spilled over, her muscles tensing and quivering with her climax, her voice crying out with the sound of his name.

  Crying out! What if she was heard? In a split second he wondered if his office walls were soundproof or if his secretary had left for her lunch break yet. Then simply decided the matter could be handled another way.

  Gripping her behind the neck, he pulled Andrea toward him and sealed his mouth over hers, swallowing her sounds. He should have been doing this the whole time. Her kisses were incredible. She tasted like coffee and the caramels she didn’t know he knew she hid in her desk for when she skipped lunch and needed a sugar fix. It was delicious.

  He continued to kiss her through her orgasm, until she’d relaxed in his embrace. For one split second, he feared that now that she’d gotten her release, she’d return to her senses and push him off her. Wouldn’t that be a kicker?

  Those fears were quickly relieved when her hand settled on his erection and squeezed. “Your turn, Tiger.”

  Hell, yes.

  Blake pulled his hand from Andy’s core and circled his arm around her waist, intending to lean her backward on the desk. Then some small voice in the back of his head told him he should be making a bit more of an effort for this girl, so he lifted her by the buttocks, urging her legs around his waist, and carried her close against him over to the wingback chair—the same one he’d interviewed her in. Fitting, he thought briefly.

  After all, it was sort of bad form to screw the matchmaker on top of her piles of potential matches. The voice told him that wasn’t the only bit of bad form going on, but he told that voice to go to hell, because bad form had never felt better.

  He sat in the chair and pulled her down on top of him. Her curls tumbled around his face, filling his nostrils with the apple scent of her. It was intoxicating. He buried his mouth in her neck and relished the way kissing her there made her squirm against him. Grabbing the top of her panties, he pulled them down her thighs. She braced herself against his shoulders, lifting one knee and then another to help him slide them all the way off. Then it was her turn to maneuver his pants and briefs far enough down to release his cock.

  Finally. There was nothing left between them.

  Blake pulled back and gazed into those green-flecked eyes. If they did this, there was no going back. Andrea stared back at him. The moment lasted forever, until she gave him one of those wicked grins.

  “Do me,” she said.

  He intuitively sensed that laughing at her sexy talk wouldn’t go over well, so he bent his head and hid his smile while he fumbled in his pant pocket for the condom in his wallet. After it was rolled on, he finally allowed himself to gaze at her pussy.

  “Oh, that is beautiful.” His thumb gently slipped between her folds to stroke the bud he’d already become familiar with by touch. Then he lined up against her opening. She let out a strangled moan and sank down, taking him into her. As he’d predicted, she was so wet, so tight around him, and Blake worried for a moment he was going to come immediately, like a teenager. He held her in place until he’d regained enough control to move inside her.

  The plan, at least in his head, was to take his time and enjoy this, quickie be damned. Because there was a good possibility that when Andrea came to her senses, she’d walk out that door and out of his life. And right now, with his cock buried inside her and his lips wrapped around her left earlobe, he wanted it to last forever, to leave that eventual departure out there in the real world.

  Andrea, it seemed, hadn’t picked up on that plan. Her hips rose and fell, riding him hard toward another climax. Well, if that was what she wanted, he was damn well going to give it to her. He flicked his tongue around her lobe then sucked it gently as he resumed his efforts against her clit with his thumb.

  He could feel the change in her as her inner muscles began to subtly tighten. He applied more pressure to her sweet spot. She clenched the arms of the chair as tightly as her walls clenched his cock and she once again came spectacularly for him. No worry about her crying out this time—her teeth were buried so far in his shoulder he almost feared he’d be the one to whimper.

  The sight of her bent over him in ecstasy, the sharp pleasure/pain of her bite, the feel of her tight pussy milking him—it was enough to bring on his own orgasm. Her spasms hadn’t even begun subsiding before he thickened and spilled into her. He squeezed his eyes shut as Andrea gripped the chair even tighter against the force of his thrusts. The strength of it overwhelmed him, and he felt like he was falling for an eternity.

  In reality, he only fell for half a second as the gray wingback fell apart beneath the intensity of their illicit sex.

  Lying there on the floor of his office in a tangle of Andrea’s arms and upholstery, Blake felt his world crashing down like the chair. What had they done? Suddenly shy despite their physical closeness, he had to steel himself to look her in the eyes. He had felt something there, something even stronger than the kiss they had shared. Now the chair seemed like a metaphor for his hubris beating him over the head. He braced himself for what she would say and do.

  Except, even prepared, her reaction came as a big surprise.

  She was cracking up.

  “Oh, my God! Can you even believe—that has never—oh, my God! I
can’t even!” She was laughing so contagiously that he even found himself chuckling along.

  She didn’t hate him after all. Maybe he hadn’t just destroyed everything he had hoped she could give him by taking too much.

  “Do you think anyone will notice?” he ventured, just for the pleasure of hearing her peals of laughter renew. As their laughter faded into the typical office noises, Andrea found her panties and slipped them back on. He took that as his cue to dispose of the condom and suit back up. By the time they were both fully clothed and facing each other, it was pretty clear that neither of them knew quite what to say.

  “I’m thinking a sandwich from Al’s. Want me to grab you one? I’m going to walk, so might be a little bit.” She fidgeted a little as she spoke, not meeting his eyes.

  All Blake could do was nod.

  “Thank you.” She crossed to her desk to grab her purse and slip into her hideous orange sneakers. “Good thing I brought my walking shoes,” she said with a wink before leaving the office.

  He watched after her wondering if he should have let her go. This was truly uncharted water. He hoped she’d come back soon and they could talk about it. Also, a sandwich sounded really good right about now. Maybe he could even buy her different shoes later.

  Chapter Twelve

  Once she left, Blake schooled his expression into his usual serious-work face. It wasn’t worth thinking about while she was gone. What was done was done. He busied himself by calling maintenance to deal with the remains of the broken chair then had his secretary find him a suitable replacement. She located one from an unused office on the seventh floor. It was delivered and the other taken away, all evidence of his tryst erased in the matter of an hour.

  Which was a good thing, he reminded himself. Then why did his chest feel so tight?

  After the office had been set right, Blake found he couldn’t concentrate on anything but watching the clock tick. Andrea still wasn’t back and he worried what her prolonged absence meant.

  It meant she was pissed, of course. She probably wasn’t coming back. She was likely at that very moment filing a report against him with HR. Maybe he should call down and check …

  No, he couldn’t do that. He had to put some trust in her. It was only fair. He sagged in his chair letting the weight of the morning’s events—or event, rather—settle on him. It didn’t take long before he decided it was the worst thing he’d ever done.

  Then he decided it was the greatest.

  Then a glance at Andrea’s empty desk across from him and he was back to thinking it was the worst.

  But the sex had been so amazing.

  He had replayed the entire thing at least five times, inhaling deeply to recall the last vestiges of her scent, mentally rewriting the chair situation. In his mind, he’d both told Andrea this was inappropriate and cut the whole thing off at the pass, and given her six screaming orgasms.

  Blake, for once in his life, had no idea what to do or think. Every scenario he imagined seemed equally likely. If he were to ask himself what it was that he, Blake Donovan, not the CEO but the man, wanted—well, he’d tell that voice to go to hell, too. Because the truth was that he had always known what he’d wanted until the day that damnable Andrea Dawson had waltzed into his life and turned it upside down.

  Now he didn’t know if he wanted to kiss her or strangle her. Fuck her or fire her. No, he did know that much. He wanted her around. He wanted her close. She was infuriating and illogical and feminine and absolutely fantastic. God, his therapist was going to kill him. He made a note to fire her instead.

  “Fuck!” he groaned as he scrubbed his hands over his face. Get it together. Make a plan.

  His pulse still throbbed with the uneasiness of Andrea’s long absence, but after several deep breaths, he managed to steady his nerves enough to enter his straightforward thinking mode. The B-Zone, he called it, but only to himself. B for Blake, but also cleverly for business. And, on particularly good days, B stood for Badass. It was his berserker mode, his karate mind-set. Everything fell into place when he could block out the world and simply problem-solve.

  Today he needed to be Badass in a big way. Wasn’t he a little bit already? Even with all the rules he’d broken and policies he’d violated, there was no taking away the fact that he’d totally scored. He had to give himself a high five for that. It had been hot. Fucking Andrea Dawson had been way hot.

  He let that sink in. Let himself relish it. Let himself beam with pride.

  Then, in proper B-Zone style, he made himself look to the future. Mentally he made his list of options, adding pros and cons to each. He shut out all thoughts of the carnal delights the woman elicited and stayed focused. Firing her was out of the question. Not just because of the legal ramifications but because he didn’t want her gone. He needed her. To find him a bride, of course, though thoughts of matchmaking seemed foreign and unwelcome at the moment. But it was part of The Plan and The Plan would not be altered because of one feisty, albeit pleasantly curvy, female officemate. No way. Not a chance. Not happening.

  Yes, he thought as he relaxed into his chair, he was definitely in the Badass Zone. He could handle this just fine.

  After another several minutes of working through his options, Blake determined the best way to handle their situation was to move on. When Andrea returned, he’d acknowledge it had happened, admit that it was entirely his fault—though the blame most certainly was shared—and promise never to lay a hand on her in an unprofessional manner again. They would go forward without another thought about their attraction. Surely it was out of their system now, anyway. Right?

  The answer to that threatened to take him out of the Badass Zone so he decided not to dwell on it. His plan was in place, whether she was out of his system or not.

  He looked at the time again. She’d been gone nearly two hours. Where was she? Maybe she wasn’t coming back after all.

  The renewed idea sent him spiraling out of the B-zone and into panic mode. He stood up, ready to go out looking for her, when she meandered back into the office, sandwiches and drinks in hand. His heart settled at the sight of her. Then it quickly jolted into high-speed racing again because, well, she had that effect on him. Especially when her hair still looked tousled from earlier, and her cheeks had that glow from walking that mimicked the flush she’d had after she came.

  Andrea cleared her throat. “Could you maybe help, please?”

  He shook his head out of his stupor. “Oh. Of course.” He hurried toward her to help with her load, stopping at the line of tape that crossed his path. Not sure how things were between them, he glanced at her with a questioning brow.

  “Yes, you can cross the tape, Blake. I can’t believe you’d even hesitate after … you know.”

  He had to smile at that. He finished crossing to her, taking the sandwiches and bags of chips from her hands so she could handle the sodas. He set them on his desk, planning to turn back to her and deliver his prepared speech or at least ask her how she’d managed to carry everything up.

  But before he could, she was next to him, setting the sodas alongside the sandwiches, her arm brushing against his, warming him to the very bone. Wakening the parts—or rather part—of him that had been put to sleep by his earlier planning. He cocked his head toward her, catching her eye.

  “Andrea,” he began at the same time she said, “Blake.”

  At the sound of his name and the lusty look in her eyes that he knew had to mirror his own, his speech and plans went out the window. In a blink, he was on her again.

  It had been instinct, to take her into his arms, and she submitted to him as if it had been her idea. Her lips tasted as good as they had two hours before—a little less sweet, perhaps, a little more salty. Just as frantic. His hands were already searching beneath her shirt to find her plump breast. He pressed against her, pushing her toward his desk. There were no files of dating candidates over here, after all. That made this surface completely fair game.

  But just as h
e leaned her back against it, she put her hands to his chest and pushed him back. “Wait, wait. Stop.”

  Panting, he took a step back, his hands raised in surrender. “You’re right. This isn’t right.” Leave it to Andrea to have her wits about her. As disappointed as he was with her pronouncement, he had no cause to argue. “We have to stop.”

  Andrea, who had turned away from him the moment he’d released her, swiveled back now to face him. “No, I was just worried about the drinks.”

  He looked behind her, seeing she’d moved the sodas to the floor. “Oh.” That was surprising. Pleasantly surprising.

  “But now that you’ve mentioned it…” She bit her lip.

  Before he let his hopes dash, he clarified. “We shouldn’t be doing this?” It was a question he hoped he didn’t know the answer to.

  She shrugged. “I wouldn’t necessarily say that. We’ve already done it. Does it really matter now?”

  “No, I suppose it doesn’t.” He tilted his gaze at her and rubbed his hand across his chin. It was obvious that Andrea’s long absence had given her time to sort out things on her own. Normally he wasn’t keen to listen to the opposition’s viewpoint, but he liked where she was going.

  She reached up to straighten his tie, reminding him of the way she’d tugged him to her earlier. “I mean, obviously this … whatever this is”—she peered up at him from underneath her long lashes—“isn’t going to go away.”

  He swallowed. “Interesting conclusion you’ve come to there.” Obvious conclusion she’d come to. And by obvious, he meant the same as his own. And if fooling around was cool with her, then why was it again that he was against it?

  Not a damn good reason came to mind. He put a hand on her waist and started to tug her closer when she halted him once again.

  “I’m not saying there aren’t things to discuss.”

  He dropped his hands to his side. “You’re right. Very right.” What the hell was it about this woman that made him lose all sense of control? Whatever it was, he was getting it back now. And this time, he meant it.