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She almost smiles. Her hands come down to fiddle with the open buttons of her coat.
I step closer, backing her up toward the wall. I get that she’s embarrassed, obviously, because her boss just caught her making out; her hair is messed up, and her clothes are all disheveled. She looked—looks—so turned-on, anybody would know how she was feeling right then. But there’s more to it.
Suspicion dawns, just the barest hint of an idea.
“It’s kind of hot.”
“What is?” she asks. Her breath picks up, just enough so I can hear it. I lean in to whisper in her ear.
“Getting caught. By Nic.”
Natalie shudders, her breath coming out in a rush with a tiny moan that I’m dead sure she didn’t mean to let out.
I take her mouth again, the need to touch her spurring me like the devil’s own heels. I can’t get enough. Her coat hits the floor as I start on the buttons of that silk blouse, tempted to tear it in half.
“Finn.” Natalie’s moan is louder this time, and I realize I must have said that part out loud.
A soft thud comes from the other side of the wall at Natalie’s back.
We both go still, her wide eyes meeting mine.
“Nic’s apartment.”
“Do you think he’s all right?” she says.
Nic saying, “She’s special.” Distracting his father when the man wouldn’t leave Natalie alone. The look on his face when she showed up to work, bright-eyed and rushed. That scorching-hot look in the lobby before this whole thing had started.
“I don’t think there’s an emergency, if that’s what you mean,” I say slowly. “If we can hear him?—”
“He can hear us, too,” she says, putting it together.
The idea lights my arousal on fire, the tension between us thickening fast, and I watch as her eyes dilate, her breath coming faster.
“It turns you on,” I murmur, tracing her lips with my thumb. “That he might hear what we’re doing.”
“I—”
The damned buttons of her blouse finally give way, and I push it off her shoulders. Her pale blue lace bra is see-through, and I can’t get my mouth on her fast enough, licking along the tops of those smooth, firm breasts. When I touch my tongue to a nipple through the fabric, she arches hard back against the wall and moans, not bothering to keep it quiet.
Natalie grips the back of my head, holding me where she wants me, and I go to work, sucking through the fabric, teasing the other peak with my fingers. Her head tips back, a hand over her mouth, but the sounds she makes don’t stop, not even a little.
Testing my theory just a little further, I make my way back up to her mouth, slapping my hands on the wall on either side of her, just loud enough to make the sound unmistakable.
Natalie whimpers, her eyes wide open, locked on mine.
Game on.
“I bet he’s standing right on the other side of this wall,” I say, unable to stop my hips from working against hers. Natalie lifts a leg the way she’d done outside, and this time, I don’t miss my cue. I lift her by the waist, the force of our bodies coming together against the wall, producing another thud. Natalie cries out, squeezing me between her thighs.
I know he wants her. Christ, how could he not? I lift her off the wall, surprising a noise out of her, setting her on the heavy hall table, scattering keys and papers everywhere. Her lips are at my shoulder, licking and biting, urging me on. I shove the skirt up, tight enough around her plush hips that I can use it as a handle to hold her in place as I go to my knees.
Matching pale blue lace between her thighs.
“God, you’re beautiful.”
Natalie’s eyes are wide, her mouth open in a perfect O, watching me in the dim hall. She teeters, catching the edge of the table just in time, hard enough it jerks back against the wall with another bang. Her eyebrows lift, her gaze coming back to meet mine.
Yeah. I put her on that table on purpose.
