Office Mate (Milford College Book 2)

by Noelle Adams

  I turn on a streaming service and pull up Fellowship of the Ring.

  “Three and a half hours?” he asks.

  “Oh. Well. It is long. And this is the extended version with extra scenes. We don’t have to watch the whole thing if it’s too long for you. I know you get up early.”

  “I’m sure I can manage.” His mouth twitches up, and his eyes rest on my face. “I’m capable of staying up late, you know.”

  “Are you?” I can’t believe I’m teasing him, but I am. “I thought maybe you were always in bed by nine so you could get up every morning at five.”

  “I don’t go to bed at nine.” He’s obviously trying not to laugh, to keep his expression sober. “It’s more like nine thirty.”

  I giggle as I press Play. I’m about to reach out to touch him—do something silly like stroke his face or his chest—and I catch myself in time and cover by reaching for the popcorn instead.

  He doesn’t seem to notice.

  Hopefully.

  I forgot to put shoes on earlier, but I wouldn’t have kept them on anyway. I get comfortable on the couch, stretching out and putting my legs up on my coffee table. My toenails are bright pink this week. After a while, Evan toes his own shoes off and does the same.

  I try not to get uptight about whether or not he’s enjoying it, but I do look over at him fairly often. He seems to be responding fairly well. He smiles at the funny parts and looks serious at the suspenseful parts, and occasionally when the movie events diverge significantly from the book, he frowns and pulls his brows together like he’s thinking.

  He definitely doesn’t like that it’s Arwen facing down the Black Riders instead of Frodo alone. But that’s okay. I don’t like that alteration either. Overall he seems to be getting into the movie as much as a man as reserved as he is can convey.

  I enjoy the movie. I always do. And I like that it feels like I’m sharing it with him. It makes it more special somehow.

  When the final credits start to roll, I turn to him.

  His head is leaning back against the cushion of my couch, and he turns it toward me. His eyes are softer than I’ve ever seen them, and there’s a smile and something more in the dark depths. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I think?”

  “I figured you’d volunteer your opinion. You’re the one who assumed it was just elves doing backflips.”

  “Well, there was some of that.”

  “He never did a backflip!” I pause, trying not to giggle. Then I add. “In this movie.”

  Evan laughs for real. The sound of it rolls over me, making me warm, making me safe, making me shiver. “It was good,” he says. “I didn’t like some of the choices, but that’s inevitable in a movie version of a book. It was good. I’m glad I watched it.”

  “You are?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re not just saying that?”

  “Why would I just say that?” He’s leaned a little closer to me. I can feel the heat from his body.

  “To be polite.”

  His forehead wrinkles. “I never do things to be polite.”

  I gasp in outrage. “You’re always polite!”

  “I mean I never do things just to be polite. If I’m nice to someone, I want to be. If I say something, I mean it.”

  “Really?” I don’t know why I’m whispering but I am.

  “Yes, really.”

  “Because you’ve always been very polite to me. I thought you were just putting it on.”

  I’ve got one of my hands on the couch between us, and he reaches over and covers it with one of his own. His clasp is warm, strong. I love how it feels. “I never put it on. I was nice to you because I... meant it.”

  I’m not sure why he stumbles over the words, but the slight hesitation makes my heart jump. I’m flushed and breathing too heavily, and an ache has grown in my chest and between my legs.

  I try but I can’t stop myself. The urge is simply too strong.

  I lean over toward him until my face is just an inch away from his. Something flickers in his eyes. Maybe heat. Maybe a question. His lips part, and I close the gap between us.

  The first touch of his mouth sends a surge of deep pleasure and excitement through me. My hands move up of their own accord to curve around his head. His hair feels just as delicious as I knew it would. It brushes against my palms with little tingles of sensation.

  His mouth is moving with mine. He’s definitely responding. But his hands are still in his lap. My tongue darts out to slide against the line of his lips, and he makes a low sound in his throat that’s the most erotic thing I’ve heard in my life.

  I whimper against his lips and lean closer.

  He pulls back with a strange jerk of his body, breaking our mouths apart.

  We stare at each other for a long moment, both of us flushed and gasping.

  Then I realize what happened. I kissed him. I kissed him. And he pulled away.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, so embarrassed I can barely process it. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to make things awkward. I shouldn’t have done that. I just... I didn’t mean to.”

  I don’t want to hear what he has to say. I don’t want to see pity or discomfort in his eyes. I grab the popcorn bowl and the half-empty fruit plate and hurry into the kitchen, mostly to get away for a few minutes and recover my dignity.

  I’m putting the leftover fruit into an airtight container when I’m aware that Evan has followed me. He comes up behind me at the sink, and I’m too afraid to turn around to look at him.

  “Beck,” he murmurs.

  “I said I was sorry.”

  “Turn around.”

  I’m surprised by the authority in his voice, but I respond to it immediately. I’m not in a fit state to do otherwise. I turn around and gasp when I see he’s only inches away from me. All I’m aware of is his strong, warm body. Trapping me against the sink. “What are you doing?” I ask when he takes a step even closer. His chest brushes against my breasts, making my nipples tighten excitedly.

  “Checking something,” he says, his eyes searching my face before he makes his move.

  He kisses me.

  This time it’s definitely him.

  I respond immediately, of course. How can I not, when this is exactly what I want to be doing? My arms wrap around his neck as he steps me back against the edge of the sink, the line of his body melding into mine. He explores my lips for a minute, his tongue and mouth surprisingly skillful and hungry. Then his tongue nudges insistently until I open for him, and he’s all the way in my mouth.

  I moan helplessly at the pure pleasure of it. His tongue sliding against mine. His hard body against my softness. I’m almost dizzy with how good it feels, and it’s likely I would have fallen had I not been trapped between his body and the sink.

  One of his hands is tangled in my hair, and the other has started moving over my body. It slides down my arm, tingling the bare skin there. Then he moves to stroke me over my dress, feeling down my side, running over the full flesh of my breasts, belly, and hips beneath the fabric.

  I’m moaning again when he reaches my thigh. I’m not even embarrassed about it. There’s no way I can stop the passionate sound even though it’s mostly muffled by his urgent mouth.

  Then I become aware of something else. He’s getting hard. Aroused. I feel him against my middle. He’s hard in his pants, and I shamelessly rub myself against it.

  He huffs and breaks the kiss, panting against my skin. “Damn. Oh damn, Beck.”

  I grab for his head again. “Why did you stop?”

  “Because I’m about to do more than kiss you.”

  “But that’s what I want.” I pull myself together to look him in the eyes. “That’s what I want, Evan. Don’t you want it too?”

  I know he wants it physically. I can feel how much. But sex is so much more than physicality, and I’ve never pretended to believe otherwise. I want him to want this with more than his body.

  “Fuck, do I want this,” he
mutters, his eyes blazing hot.

  “Did you just say fuck?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “I’ve never heard you say that before.”

  “Do you want me to say it again?” He’s leaning toward me again.

  “Yes, please.” I’m smiling up at him because he’s relaxed again, and I’m hoping that means he wants this as much as I do.

  He whispers against my lips. “Fuck.” Then he kisses me again.

  This time he’s not holding anything back. His tongue is hungry and seeking, and his hands move all over my body, bunching up my skirt so he can stroke the bare skin of my thighs. I don’t think my thighs are the most attractive part of my body, but he seems to like how they feel. He doesn’t pull his hands away, and his fingers get more and more presumptuous.

  “Can I touch you?” he murmurs, breaking the kiss just long enough to ask the question and let me answer.

  “Yes. Yes, please. Touch me. Right now.”

  He chuckles into another kiss, and he adjusts his position so he can get his hand where he wants it. He rubs me over my panties. They’re damp, so he’s going to know how into this I am. How much I want him.

  “Oh fuck,” I hear him mutter as he tucks his fingers inside my underwear.

  I gasp and make an embarrassing mewling sound when he finds my clit and starts to rub it. I manage to hook one leg around his legs to give him better access, and I move against his hand as best I can.

  I can’t focus on the kiss any longer since pleasure is building into a tight coil at my center. My head falls backward, and I let out a lingering groan.

  “That’s right, Beck,” he murmurs thickly. “Come for me. I can tell you’re going to come.”

  “Uh-huh. Uh-huh.” That’s actually what I say. I repeat it in helpless huffs of sound as I get closer.

  His finger moves faster and harder against my sensitized clit until the tension finally breaks.

  I cry out loudly, shaking through the spasms of release. I’ve always been loud in bed, and nothing in my experience has been as hot as this. Him rubbing me off against the kitchen sink in our clothes.

  He strokes me through the orgasm until I finally relax against him. I’m limp and happy. I’m smiling like a fool.

  He laughs and kisses me gently. “That was pretty damn hot.”

  “Was it?”

  “Oh yes.”

  I reach between our bodies so I can massage him through his pants. He bites back a moan. “How does that feel?” I ask.

  “That feels like I’m not going to last very long.” He straightens up and opens his eyes, which had fallen closed with pleasure. “We can just stick with hands if you want. I don’t know how far you want to go tonight, and I want you to know I’m okay with anything.”

  I almost melt with a wave of appreciation. I cup his cheek with one hand. It’s just a little bristly. “I want to do everything, but only if you want it too.”

  “Everything? Because there’s a world of sexual activities out there, and I’m honestly not sure if I’m up for everything right now. I mean, I can read up on it and do some research, and I’m sure eventually I can—”

  I break into his words with a laugh. “I didn’t mean—” I cut myself off when I see his face. I gasp. “You’re teasing me!”

  “Just a little.” He tilts his head down to kiss my mouth gently. “We can have intercourse, if that’s what you want.”

  “That’s what I want.”

  He wraps his arms around me in what’s almost a hug. “Me too,” he murmurs against my ear.

  He holds me like that for longer than I expect. I love it. The strength of his body. The way he’s relaxing against all my curves as if he likes the feel of them.

  Of me.

  Then he moans and pulls away. “Bedroom?”

  I nod. “Bedroom.”

  I lead him there. It’s not exactly in its neatest state after my rush to get dressed, but I don’t even care at the moment. I drag him over to my bed, yank down the covers, and then pull him down on top of me. Neither of us are wearing our shoes, so nothing but our clothes get in the way. And those don’t last very long.

  I’m so eager I’m already undoing his pants and pushing them down as we settle onto the bed. He raises himself up enough to shuck them off and also get rid of his socks and his shirt. I leer at his mostly naked body until he starts pulling up my dress. I help him get it off, and I have a moment of self-consciousness as he stares down at me in my bra and panties.

  There’s no way, at my size, I can wear lacy little bras. They’d never give me enough support. So my bra is more practical than anything else, although it’s a pretty pale pink. I really don’t want him to be disappointed in how I look.

  He stares for a long time, and I can’t see his eyes to check his expression. His breathing is accelerating though. I can hear it now.

  Finally I can’t stand it anymore. “Well?”

  He raises his eyes, and I gasp at the heat I see in them. “I can’t believe I get to see you out of your clothes. What did I ever do to deserve this?”

  I giggle stupidly—in pleasure and relief. Then I lift up enough to unhook my bra in the back. “You’re letting me see you without your clothes too, so I think we’re even.”

  “Even?” He shakes his head, his eyes moving back down to my breasts as I pull my bra away. “I don’t think so. My body is purely practical. Your body...” He reaches out to stroke one of my nipples with the pad of his thumb. “Your body is made for touching.”

  I don’t know what’s doing it for me more. His words or his gentle touch. But I’m limp with pleasure as I drop my bra over the side of the bed. “Your body is pretty good for touching too.”

  “If you say so.” He’s smiling when he kisses my mouth and then starts kissing his way down my throat. I arch my neck to give him better access, and then I arch my back as he reaches my breasts. He fondles one breast with his fingers as he suckles the other with his mouth. It feels so good—like so much all at once—that I moan and whimper and grow louder as he keeps it up. Soon I can’t lie still. I’m squirming beneath him and clawing at his bare back.

  “I’ve already come once,” I gasp at last, when it feels like I’m going to explode from wanting him so much. “I’m good on foreplay.”

  He lifts his head. “Maybe I want you to come again.”

  “And you think I don’t want that?” I shamelessly splay my legs apart. “Oh God, please. I’m dying here. I need to come so bad.”

  “Then let me do this for you.”

  “But you’re so slow!”

  He laughs softly, giving one breast a quick flick with his tongue before dragging his tongue down toward my belly button. “Are you always so impatient?”

  “When I’m dying from needing to come, I am. Don’t you need to come?”

  “Desperately. It feels like I’ve been hard for you for weeks now. But I’m going to make sure to take care of you first.”

  If I wasn’t a goner before, I definitely am now. I try to dampen my emotional response to him as he slides off my panties and pries my legs apart. He stares down at my groin the way he did my breasts earlier, and this time I see the possessive heat in his eyes.

  He likes how I look. He really does. There’s no way he can possibly be faking this.

  He lowers his face and nuzzles between my legs. I make a silly sound in response.

  He smiles and holds me open with his fingers so he can tease my clit with his tongue.

  I clutch at the sheet frantically and moan.

  “You’re so responsive,” he says, bending up my legs and raising my hips slightly so he can better reach me. I let him move me however he wants. “Do you have any idea how hot that is? You love the way I’m touching you.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I do. Please, please, do it some more.”

  He chuckles, and I can feel it against my arousal. Then his tongue is moving again. Sliding up and down and then playing at my entrance. I’m so wet I can feel moisture leaking ou
t. He makes a murmuring sound of approval.

  “Do you want me to use my hand or just my mouth?” he asks, nudging at my clit again.

  “Your hand. I want to feel you inside me.” I’m completely naked. Completely on display for him. And I’m not the slightest bit self-conscious about it since he seems to be enjoying this so much.

  But not as much as I am. I’m having to fight not to squirm.

  He slides one finger inside me, rubbing at my inner walls until I make a sobbing sound. Then he pulls it out and adds another finger. Pumps them exactly right.

  I clamp down all around him, rocking my hips against the penetration.

  “That’s right. That’s so good. You’re so hot. So good. I want you to take what you want.” His voice is the sexiest thing in all of creation. I swear it is.

  “I want... I want... I want this.” I arch up desperately, still clutching at the bedding beneath me. My hips are moving like crazy against his hand. He uses his other hand to hold me still enough to get his mouth down to my clit.

  He sucks on it hard, and I come apart completely. I make loud, frantic sounds as I thrash with the intensity of the release.

  He strokes me through the spasms. They last a long time, and he extends them with pressure on my clit.

  I’m red and damp with sweat and completely boneless with satisfaction when he finally straightens up.

  “There,” he says with a little smile. His eyes are raking up and down my sprawled body as if he likes what he sees. “That’s what I wanted to do first.”

  “Oh God,” I gasp. “Oh God. I think I just died and went to heaven and then got sent back to do it again.”

  He laughs as I pull him down into an embrace, more a hug than anything sexual. “That sounds good to me.”

  “Now I want you to enjoy yourself too.”

  “You think I didn’t enjoy what we just did?”

  “I hope you did, but I want you to come now. I can go down on you if you want, or we can...”

  “I believe intercourse was on the table.” He lifts up enough to stroke his hands up and down over my body, lingering over all my fleshiest spots. “If you’re ready.”

  “I’m definitely ready.” I reach down to grab the waistband of his underwear, and then I pull it down over his hips and legs. My eyes are focused on his very firm erection, bouncing slightly from the motion. I make a throaty sound of approval at the sight of him.