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And I wanted to lick a lot more of him.
I groaned and dropped into my desk chair. The lick, the kiss yesterday. If I wasn’t careful, I was going to spontaneously combust. It had been so long since I’d had sex. Over eight months. And to be fair, sex with my ex had never been very inspiring. Scott was always more interested in Scott than me.
When I first met him, he’d seemed fine, easy-going. He’d been a fitness trainer who liked to surf.
But I found out it was mostly all a front. I was still angry at myself for not seeing it earlier. Slowly, he’d become more controlling and jealous. We’d only dated for three months, and I got tired of only doing what Scott wanted, when he wanted. And I got really tired of fast sex where usually only Scott got off.
Wrinkling my nose, I took a deep breath. When he’d hit me, it had been the final straw. I’d broken up with him then and there.
But he’d kept turning up at my work. My apartment. My grocery store. Eventually, I decided to move.
It was something I’d always wanted to do, and New Orleans had been top of my list.
So, long story short, I wanted sex. And not the boring, selfish kind. The hot, dirty, he-holds-me-down-and-gives-me-multiple-orgasms kind.
I was pretty sure it existed. I bit my lip. I was fairly certain my hot, grumpy boss was capable of it.
“No, Macy. It’s a bad idea to bang your boss.” I spun my chair in a circle. “No matter if you know it would totally rock your world.”
“Talking to yourself?”
I yelped and nearly fell off my chair. I scrambled to my feet. Colt loomed in the doorway.
I cleared my throat. “People who talk to themselves are said to be more intelligent.”
He grunted. “That sounds made up.”
It probably was. I’d read it on social media.
Work. I needed to focus on some work. “I have some things for you to sign.”
He crossed his arms. Did he know that made his muscles bulge? Did he do it on purpose? My gaze snagged on his tattoos. Did he have others?
“By things, you mean paperwork?” he said grumpily.
I pointed to his office. “Sit, or I’ll tie you to your chair.”
He stilled, and I felt the air charge. God, why did I say that? I felt a lazy throb low in my belly.
“Sit.” I hope he didn’t notice how high pitched my voice was. I rustled through some papers on my desk. “I’ll get you a coffee.” AKA a bribe.
I heard the thud of his footsteps. After sucking in a steadying breath, I headed to the kitchen and made the coffee. Colt liked his coffee black, and hot. Really hot. I had no idea why he liked it thermonuclear. Probably because he left it sitting there on his desk for so long while he pretended to do paperwork.
“I have another local case for you to look at. The details are in here.” I set the file and the mug of coffee down on his desk. “Tyler Simmons. Deadbeat dad. He ran off with his wife’s best friend. Original.” I rolled my eyes. “He also emptied her bank account and stole her jewelry, even though they have kids.” What an asshole.
Colt took a lot of cases like this. Helping out kids and single parents. I saw his jaw tighten.
“Address?”
I shook my head. “They had to sell the family home. No one’s seen him since he ran. His girlfriend’s address is in there.”
Colt nodded.
I leaned over his shoulder. “You need to sign this form, and approve these invoices.”
I realized he wasn’t looking at the forms, and that his body was stiff. Oh, I was pressing my boob against his bicep. Oops. I took one step sideways.
“Why do you always smell like berries?” His voice was a low growl.
