by Lara Swann
“Thank you.” I murmur, my hand cupping her cheek instinctively, softly brushing her hair back.
She startles, but before she can say anything I’m already there, drawing her into me until her mouth meets mine. It takes me by surprise as much as it does her - I didn’t even know I wanted to do that - but the moment I do, all other thoughts leave me. It ignites a sudden, desperate urge too deeply buried to notice before, spurring me on to deepen the kiss with a need that takes my breath away.
For a moment, Jessica is too stunned to react - but then she moans deeply into my mouth, her lips moving with mine as her hands rise to curl through my hair. It feels god-damn amazing, and within moments I’m standing and pulling her out of her chair towards me. My mouth moves frantically on hers, like a drowned man tasting air, and she returns it with the same urgency, every sound she makes music to my ears.
Her hand drops to my neck, tugging me closer, deepening the kiss further and our tongues tangle against each other as I pull her into me. She gasps at the rough movement, but she’s there pressing up against me in the next moment and every slightest sensation of her body against mine feels amazing. Some stunned part of me wonders how I’ve never truly admired these curves before, this soft, feminine body or…
She nips at my lips and it makes me growl a response, heat rushing through me and straight to my rapidly hardening cock.
Damn. I don’t think I’ve felt this kind of response like this for—
Her hands slip under my shirt and fire dances across my skin as I groan, my own hands quick to do the same, roaming over the soft skin of her back until all I can see and feel is pure desire. I find myself walking her backward, until we bump up against the refrigerator and our bodies are pressed that much closer together. My hands come around to her front, sliding up to cup a silky-feeling bra as she writhes against me, our mouths still locked together, barely pausing for breath. I kiss the edge of her mouth, down to her neck so that her light moans escape now, sounding divine where she’s rocked back against the refrigerator.
Her hand drops down in turn, to where I’m only narrowly resisting grinding against her—and it’s that sudden sensation that jolts me back, sudden horror filling me.
What the—what am I doing?! What—how—
“Shit.” I get out, pulling back in shock. “I—shit, Jessica—I’m sorry, I—I don’t know what happ—I’m sorry.”
I untangle myself and step back fully, my whole body on fire in a way it hasn’t been for years while unadulterated panic races through me.
“I—wasn’t thinking. Today—it’s all been—too much. I’m so sorry.” I say, shaking my head.
Oh my god, what’s she going to think of me? Asking her to play this part and then coming onto her? What the hell is wrong with you, Nathan?!
She’s still staring at me in blank confusion - heat still written in her eyes, a promise full of desire that I’m aching to take her up on right now, no matter how bad of an idea it would be - seemingly too stunned to say anything. I back away, feeling like the lowest of the low as I do.
How could I?! I didn’t even…I never thought…shit. Fuck.
“I should go.” I say, but I pause in the doorway, hesitating, all too much of me totally reluctant. “I’m sorry.”
I repeat it again, the words seeming to be the only thing I can offer, and then I push past the hesitation, escaping to the relative safety of my room.
There, I close the door and lean against it, breathing hard as I slide down to the floor and bury my head in my hands. That only puts me face-to-face with the hard, throbbing bulge pressing against my pants. The one that definitely, emphatically shouldn’t be there.
She’s your colleague! You’ve never…she’s never…fuck.
That was one of the reasons I asked her to do this in the first place, god-damn it, and now…
Now, the fact that I’ve never looked at her that way before doesn’t stop me from spending the rest of the night thinking about her. Those few moments. The way she looked…felt…sounded…
God damn it. I’m so screwed.
Chapter Nine
Jessica
I stay there against the refrigerator for way longer than I should, just trying to get my breath back, stunned and dazed from everything that just happened, and then…didn’t. The sudden whirlwind of complete, intense, passionate desire - and then the ache of its total loss afterward.
Fucking hell…
I raise a hand to my mouth to cover the groan as my eyes eventually squeeze shut. I have no idea what just happened. Or how. I didn’t think Nathan had ever looked at me that way. Not even once. That’s why this was…safe.
“Shit.” I mutter, finally rousing myself enough to push away from the refrigerator and start walking slowly up to bed.
There are still hot shivers running over me with every image that flashes through my mind, and I can feel myself throbbing with unsatisfied need, but I try to bring myself out of it the best I can. Nathan’s room has no light coming from underneath the door as I pass it, but even so, I can’t help pausing for a moment.
I could knock…I could go in…just to…to talk about it…
But I push myself past the feeling - and then, eventually, the door. I know it’s not talking I’m thinking of right now - and Nathan’s response made his feelings on the matter pretty clear.
That look of horror on his face flashes into my mind again - the disbelief and shock as he pulled away - and my stomach lurches as I think of it. It hurts way more than it probably should, but I still understand it and even now, half drunk and aching with desire, I don’t blame him. This was never part of the plan.
This was the one thing he didn’t want.
That I didn’t want…
Only right now, it’s hard to remember that last part.
When I finally make it into my room, I collapse onto the bed with a groan, burying myself in the covers and hoping the world will disappear by the time I emerge.
I’m not sure whether I’m more mortified, thrilled or apprehensive right now.
Or horny. Probably mostly horny.
I groan again, letting the pillow swallow it before I flip myself onto my back and sigh deeply, asking myself what the hell just happened.
Nathan doesn’t even like me. Not like that. Not outside my deep, secret fantasies. The ones that are supposed to be entirely fictional -and definitely aren’t supposed to come to life around me, taking my breath and leaving me desperate like this.
Now all I can think about is his hands on my body, that hot mouth on mine, stubble grazing my chin and my whole body burning up with that rough need he had. My own hands glide down my body as I think about that, and I groan again, because I already know there’s no way this is going to end well.
It was one thing to keep all these thoughts under control when they were just idle fantasies, but now?!
Now, I have to live here and deal with all these feelings every moment I see him…at home…and at work…all this frustrated desire, those secret longings…and knowing the whole time that it’s not just me anymore. He feels at least some of it too. He could be interested!
Ugh, I’m so totally screwed.
Only not even properly, fully satisfyingly screwed. Just half-screwed and left wanting.
My mind supplies the dirty thoughts even as I try to wrestle with myself over what we’ve just done and how hard this is going to make my life, intruding again and again until I give in. I finally push myself up and kick off my clothes, before sliding back under the covers and letting my wandering hands do exactly what I’m aching for them to do.
They don’t feel anything like Nathan’s, but that doesn’t matter - tonight, it’s so easy to imagine the way he touched my breasts, holding them in his hands and running his thumbs over my nipples, tweaking them slightly through the damned bra we never got around to removing. I don’t have that problem, and I go further than he ever had the chance to, twisting and caressing, adding a touch of roughness that makes me
gasp, my legs clenching and twisting together around my aching center as I imagine his thigh pressing into my center, providing something for me to grind against.
By the time I let my hands wander down my body, pressing one palm flat against my pussy to simulate exactly what I’m picturing, I’m breathing heavily and my pussy is tight with need, aching and throbbing desperately even as I prolong the denial. I have no idea whether Nathan would do that, whether he’d drive me crazy like that, but the idea that I came so close to finding out tonight is enough to set my body on fire, letting me get carried away with the fantasy. I take an excruciatingly slow time teasing my inner lips, small sparks of sensation that make me gasp and twist, my entrance flooded with moisture already as I start circling around my clit, just a whisper of motion that makes me want so much more.
It’s enough that when I finally enter, I do it hard and fast, wanting to feel taken and fucked as I thrust three fingers inside and start up a fast rhythm, my body tensely coiled and tight with need as I try to fill myself as much as I can. I gasp with the sudden change in sensation, my hips grinding and rocking as my fingers work them hard, everything in me wanting more, more, more as I imagine doing this with Nathan, with him here on top of me. The thoughts drive me further and further towards the edge and I finally start flicking my thumb across my clit, handling myself more roughly as need swamps me and my body jerks haphazardly, everything in me lost in what I’m doing as my entire focus narrows.
Within moments, it all gets too much, the tension in my body coiling tightly and every nerve tingling in anticipation before I hurtle over that edge, the climax rocking through me with waves of intense, gasping sensation. I fling my head back, everything within me tightening and loosening as pleasure rushes through my body, leaving me breathless and dazed as warm, satisfied feelings flood me. They’re the surface-level kind, the ones that seem to highlight that feeling of something missing that I get with this kind of pleasure occasionally, but they still feel damn good.
I lie there languidly for a while as the aftershocks shiver through me, enjoying the wild abandon of it as I slowly come back to myself. When I do, it’s with another deep sigh and I roll over, closing my eyes and sinking into the comfort of the pillows once again. I can still feel the lingering effects of desire on my body, a deep-seated need that’s not quite scratched, and my mind drifts all too easily to the man across the hall from me. As fucking amazing as that was, I’m not sure whether it really got anything out of my system - it feels more like it stoked the fires burning within me even hotter. Which, if I’d thought about it, was probably predictable - but impossible to resist all the same.
Yep. You’re totally screwed.
I’ve got a feeling there are going to be many more nights like this in my future, and as amazing as that might be in some ways…I have no idea how I’m going to stay sane.
You’ll get it out of your system eventually. You’ve got to burn out on it sometime…
Yeah. Sure.
* * *
The next morning, I linger in bed far longer than usual. I tell myself it’s just because it’s Sunday, and everyone loves a lazy Sunday morning, and it’s got nothing to do with whatever might be waiting for me downstairs. Or who.
Or the way I’m half-enjoying the lingering over the flashes of memory from last night…
When I finally make it downstairs, Emma is already playing in another room and Nathan is clearing up their breakfast in the kitchen - and, I realize belatedly, the remains of dinner from last night.
Daamn. We never did that. And I didn’t even notice.
I can’t help the mournful look I give the saucepan of curry left on the stove.
“Aww, damn it. So much for curry being great for leftovers.” I say, walking over and picking it up. I tilt my head half-hopefully toward Nathan. “You don’t think it’ll still be good, do you?”
“Ahh, no.” He says candidly. “I didn’t want to get rid of it in case you thought otherwise, but…”
He gives it a dubious glance that says it all, unfortunately matching my own thoughts.
“I’m sorry we didn’t…” He starts, then trails off as his eyes jerk up to my own - and the sudden rush of awkward heat between us has me forgetting all about the curry.
It had been enough to distract me for a moment, but that look is all it takes to bring last night flooding back, even though I thought I was prepared for this. For him. For however the hell we were going to navigate things this morning.
I try not to notice how good he looks in that shirt, or the light caress of stubble across his chin, or the way his hair has that morning fluffiness to it as it sometimes does…but suddenly my heart is racing all over again and it’s hard not to think about those few moments last night—what they felt like—even through the sudden thickness in the air between us.
“I’m sorry, Jessica.” He says again, and it’s not at all about the curry. I can hear the conflict in his voice, and the way he glances off to the side only makes this feel more uncomfortable. “About last night—what happened—”
“The kiss?” I say, surprising myself with my forwardness. I keep my voice lowered - Emma is just in the other room, after all - but we’re not kids. The last thing I want to do is skirt around this.
“I—yes.” He still won’t look at me, and I wish I could see the expression in his eyes. I just want to know if there’s still something there - if there’s anything more than regret and discomfort. I don’t know why it matters so much to me, but it does.
“Are you? Sorry, that is?” I ask, the words slipping out of me even though I know I’m playing with fire here - but I’ve had these thoughts, these fantasies, for so long now that I can’t just pretend I never felt a thing last night. I might be able to get through it, sure, but not if I have to act like it doesn’t exist. “Because I’m not.”
His head comes up at that, gaze snapping to mine, and behind the obvious concern there, I see what I’m looking for - the hint of a spark, that flush of heat - the thing that’s still there between us. I don’t know whether I’m more relieved or scared to see it, but it’s there. That’s what I had to know.
“I can’t say I’m sorry for anything that happened last night.” I repeat, continuing before he manages to recover from that simple admission - or the sudden intensity between us. “I mean, I know it was a bad idea. We work together, we’re in the middle of this temporary marriage thing and it absolutely can’t go anywhere. It probably shouldn’t have ever happened - but I can’t say that I regret it, either. I enjoyed it too much for that.”
I meet his eyes as I say it, unable to help the slight smile that plays across my mouth, some part of me enjoying this too - the sudden sharpening of his gaze, the dark heat there as he looks at me almost hungrily.
Oh yes. Definitely playing with fire.
I’m pretty sure I’m not making things any easier for him - for either of us - but I have to be honest about it. Lying to ourselves and each other isn’t going to help, and I can’t regret this. No matter how much it complicates things, last night was something I’ve wanted for too long for that. It probably can’t ever happen again, but there’s still a not-insignificant part of me that’s just thrilled it happened at all.
He’s silent for a long moment, just looking at me, but that only draws out the electric feeling between us.
The chemistry.
It’s so thick it’s almost tangible, and for a moment my mind spins in confusion.
How have I never felt this before? What the hell happened last night?!
When he finally speaks, his voice is low and intimate, enough to send shivers of anticipation through me.
Anticipation that’s never going to get answered.
“I enjoyed it too.” He says, his voice slow and considering. “And…maybe you’re right. I’m not sure I am sorry about that. But still, Jessica…”
“Yes.” I nod, trying to force my tone back into something resembling businesslike, or professional, or anythi
ng apart from the teenage-hormone level of lust I currently feel. “We shouldn’t let it happen again.”
He nods too, though now there really is the hint of regret on his face. The same one I feel beating inside me too.
“We’ll…probably have to be careful about that.” I add, with a slightly rueful half-smile.
That’s…definitely an understatement.
I look off to the side, letting the intensity of the eye contact between us fade. I felt like I had to be honest about this, but now it’s definitely time to dial it back and put all that aside - there’s nothing good that can come from lingering on it. Nathan seems to come to the same conclusion, as he shifts, taking a step back to lean against the counter as he looks upward for a moment. He takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his hair, nodding.
“At least we’re on the same page.” He rumbles, and as much as I agree, I almost want to sigh.
In too many ways, it seems.
Not to mention, there’s still a part of me that wishes he wasn’t quite so relieved that I’m not going to get the wrong idea…but I ignore that.
“Yeah.” I shrug, putting on a false confidence. “We’ll work it out. We’re good at that.”
Though secretly, I get the feeling this might strain our usual ability to adapt to new challenges and situations together.
“Are you okay with all this?” I ask, glancing at the mess remaining in the kitchen from last nights’ dinner and deliberately changing the subject. I figure there’s nothing more to be said, and the sooner we move past it, the better. “I was thinking I might…go for a run.”
The idea only comes to me as I’m speaking - the thing I’m really thinking about being finding a way to put some space between us for a little while - but it immediately feels like something I need right now. I feel guilty about the idea of leaving Nathan with my dirty dishes but right now I think staying and helping would be far worse for both of us.
“Yes—yes, of course.” He says, following my gaze and shifting gears with me, sounding grateful for it. “You cooked dinner, after all.”