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Her tears.
Her ass.
“God, I should have made this a cold shower.” I can’t stop thinking about her. Running my soapy hands over my cock, I wrap my hands around it, stroking and pulling while I imagine all the ways I want to take her.
Her presence in my home, my office, has awakened something sleeping within me. Just being around her is like taking an intoxicating drug that I can’t get enough of. I caress my cock, gaining rhythm, knowing she’s just in the next room, lost in the haze of sexual desire.
I imagine bending her over my desk, taking her in the bathroom stall, pushing her up against the windows of the bedroom, her hands pressed into the glass, her naked body on display for everyone as I have my way with her.
I’m insatiable. “God,” I moan as I come. A few breathless moments later, I finish washing up, towel dry, and tiptoe through the room without disturbing the angel sleeping in my sexless bed.
I’ve kept things platonic.
But I don’t know how much longer I can play this game, pretending that I’m not driven by the primal urge to make her mine.
CHAPTER 20
Rockwell
She’s standing in my office, having just delivered a perfectly made cup of four o’clock coffee. I take a sip, momentarily losing my senses in the scent and taste of the delicious brew.
Today, she wears a sleek, sleeveless dress that’s meant to be businesslike but on her it’s so sexy it may as well be lingerie. She’s got one hand on her hip, a smile on her face.
She asks me, “What’s today again?”
“Friday?” I say.
“More like Fri-yay! Am I right?”
“Have you been standing there this whole time, planning to say that?”
“Maybe,” she laughs.
The sexual tension between us is palpable.
I know she feels it.
“Whew! What a week that was. Thanks again for letting me plan the customer appreciation night at the art gallery, which went fantastic if I do say so myself?—”
She chatters on in an inane dialogue to pass the time.
Ignoring the way I’m staring at her with open hunger and desire.
I can’t wait any longer. Forget everything I said about keeping things like this.
Professional. Platonic. Pathetic.
I have to have her. She’s still going over her synopsis of the week, her hands moving in the air. I grab her, cutting off her monologue.
“What?” she says, looking up.
“This.” I close her mouth by devouring it with a passionate kiss.
Then kiss her again, this time more urgently, feeling her body responding to my touch. My hands slide up her body, over her dress, grazing her delicate curves. I can feel her heart racing, her breathing quickening with each touch.
Lily grips my shirt, pulling me closer, her head tilted up, her eyes locked on mine. I can see the desire mirrored in her eyes, the same hunger that courses through me. My fingers find the clasp at the back of her dress, undoing it slowly, savoring the moment.
The fabric slips down her body, revealing her trembling legs. My eyes linger on her before I pull it off completely, leaving her standing before me in just her underwear. Black lace bra with matching panties. Undergarments I bought her from Daughtry’s. The idea of me buying those sexy things she wears, the sight of her, so vulnerable and exposed, is almost too much—my pants are getting tighter to the point of discomfort.
