Page 56 of Wells

After calling room service and ordering an array of breakfast items, I try to read the screen in front of me instead of mapping out every inch of her skin. The breach report pulls up, rows of data I need to parse and track. My hands move over the keys.

But my attention keeps sliding.

The line of her body in the fitted white T-shirt, the bare curve of her shoulder where the fabric slips, how she crosses her bare legs at the ankle.

"Hey, can you look at this?" I set my laptop on the coffee table and turn to face her.

Cera shifts closer, turning her laptop toward me. Her thigh presses against mine. She points at the screen, explaining something about the data flow and the risk map, and I catch maybe half of it because all I can think about is the heat coming off her leg and bleeding through my pants onto mine.

I reach over and cup her face, and she stops talking. Her eyes go wide, startled, but she does not pull away.

I kiss her.

It's not careful. I am too wound up for careful. The morning sits in my chest, Dane's voice still echoing in my head. I need something soft to push against. I need her.

Cera leans into me instead of pulling back. Her laptop tumbles off her lap and hits the floor with a muted thud. She doesn't reach for it.

Her mouth opens under mine. I taste the coffee on her tongue. My hand slides into her hair, gripping, and she makes a low sound in her throat that goes straight through me.

I pull her onto my lap. She straddles me, knees on either side of my hips, and grinds down. I groan into her mouth. My hands find the hem of her shirt and pull it up and over her head.

She isn't wearing a bra, causing my dick to go from hard to rock-hard.

I put my mouth to her breast, tongue circling her nipple, and she gasps, arching into me. Her hands tangle in my hair. I suck harder, and she moans, hips rocking against me.

"Wells."

Her voice breaks on my name. I pull back just enough to look at her. Flushed, breathing hard, big, brown eyes dark with want.

"I don't have a condom."

"I'm on the pill."

I freeze. My hands tighten on her hips.

"Cera."

"Don't stop."

That is all I need.

I stand, lifting her with me. She wraps her legs around my waist, and I carry her to the bedroom. The bed is unmade from this morning, sheets twisted, sun cutting through the glass.

I lay her down and strip off her shorts. She isn't wearing underwear, splayed on the bed, bare and waiting. The sight of her makes my chest go tight.

I pull my shirt over my head and undo my belt. Her gaze tracks down my body, lingering, and I feel it in my gut.

Then I see it. The ring, small, silver, sitting just above her navel. The sight of it hits a dark, hungry place in me and snaps the last of my control, if there was any left.

I strip out of my pants and move over her. She spreads her legs, and I settle between them, the head of my cock pressing against her. I rub the tip through her folds, from front to back. She grips my arms, pulling me into her, a moan escaping from her throat.

"You're so wet, so perfect."

"I've been wet for you for a week. I haven't stopped thinking about you."

"I've been thinking about you bent over that desk, open for me."

"Yes. For you. I want you inside of me, Wells. Fill me."