by Rose Lange
The lights partially dimmed over the cubicles in the deserted office.
Tired, hungry, and ready call it a day, Emma leaned over and grabbed her heels from beneath the desk, sliding them back on at the protest of her feet. Her soles hurt, and she wanted nothing more than to soak them in a nice hot bath.
Her mind drifted to Patrick. She relived the sinful sensation of his hand roving up toward her chest. She knew that if Sarah had not chosen that moment to interrupt, she’d have allowed him to have free access. His touch was a forbidden craving she felt damned for taking.
Patrick popped his head into her office, startling her. “Do you need help with anything?”
She offered him a warm smile and rearranged her papers, stuffing them into her briefcase to bring home with her this evening. She normally didn’t take work home, but they’d made such good headway on the Donovan account she didn’t wish to break her stride. “No, thank you. I’m good.”
Patrick strolled in, then shut the door and took a seat. “Things are shaping up nicely with the project, don’t you think?”
She gave a heavy sigh of relief. Good, he wasn’t going to bring up this morning. “Yes, I agree.”
Her nerves were getting the best of her. She needed to occupy herself. Opening her laptop, she started to type out an email, even if it could wait until tomorrow.
“And I wanted to know if you’d like to go out Friday night.”
Her fingers stilled over the keyboard. “I don’t think that’d be a good idea.”
“And why is that?”
“I told you. Because we work together.” It was a weak excuse, and she knew it.
She turned back to her task, hoping he would take the hint and leave and at the same time, hoping he would stay. The logical side told her it would be a mistake to date a co-worker, but the starving, pent-up, hadn’t-had-sex-in-over-two-years side told her to go for it. Practically begging her to take Patrick and have her wicked way with him right here on this desk.
Ha, that was a good one, and so much for not wanting to mix business with pleasure, Emma.
Abandoning her email, she shut her laptop. Obviously, Patrick wasn’t taking the hint.
Standing, she smoothed out her skirt and gathered as much self-control as she could muster. She walked to the door and reached for the knob. Before she could get a hold of it, Patrick’s hand covered hers, and a warm, delicious pressure from his skin rooted her to the spot. Small tingles paraded up and down her spine. Stealing a glance downward, she found that the sight of his large hand over hers stirred and heated her blood.
Awareness struck. She didn’t need to see how close he stood. She could feel how close he stood. The all-male heat emanated from him in droves. And this time they were completely alone. She could easily lose control, and she felt like such a damned weakling.
Christ, he’d only been there for almost a month, but already her body, and not-so-better senses, begged for a kiss.
She met his eyes, then lowered her gaze to his chiseled jaw, and oh boy. That mouth. Their breaths intermingled, and the heat shared between their bodies burned up her insides, from the roots of her hair to the tips of her feet. She took several deep, measured breaths.
“Patrick, this, this isn’t such a good idea.”
What about this man made him so irresistible? What made her want to completely throw her inhibitions out the window, turned her mind to mush, and her knees to Jell-O?
“What if I said you affected me just as much, Emma?”
God damn. With those words, her chest tightened. He’d never been one to mince words, and she feared with the admission she’d be unable to resist. Just as it had been long ago, and she hated herself for wanting those lips on hers. Memories of their nights in Greece sent her heart thumping like the Energizer Bunny and her libido racing like a marathon runner on too much caffeine.
“Please.” She tried to sound calm, but her voice betrayed her and shook with nerves.
In a fruitless attempt, she tried to open the door, but he again stopped her. Only this time he backed her against the door, one hand on either side of her face, too close for her comfort.
The room shrank, but damn, he felt good pressed against her. Her breasts already ached to be touched. Her hands lay limp at her sides as her entire body relaxed against him.
As she recalled their previous, heated kisses, not only on her mouth, but her shoulders, belly, and even lower, she felt heat creep up her neck.
Would he still taste as sinful?
Thank God for the heavy oak door supporting her, because from the waist down, she may as well be liquid mush. Surely, any minute now, her knees would buckle, or she’d land in a foolish heap on the floor. The dark, hypnotic, sexy gaze that smoldered in his eyes sent her senses swimming. Between his overwhelming, sexy scent, a subtle manly cologne mixed with his body heat.
Tired of being shy, she moved her hands toward the lapels of his suit jacket, and his sharp intake of breath gave her the green light to continue her travels. Not meeting his gaze, she grasped both lapels in a tight clench and drew him forcefully toward her. Angling her head, she made a satisfying landing, his lips warm, moist, responsive.
At first, he kept his hands right where they were, but before long, his arms were around her waist. He held tightly against her. She let go of the jacket and wrapped her arms around his neck. He groaned into her mouth, and cocking his head, deepened the kiss. His tongue sought entry, and, oh, but he tasted like fire. Burnt orange with flecks of red and hot charcoal rimming the edges. Tasting exactly as he had years ago. Hot as ever, maybe even hotter. His hands moved from her waist and grasped one side of her face before traveling to the back of her head. His mouth ravaged, and even though she’d started this, he damned near stole her breath away with his intensity.
Even though she knew it was a bad idea, she could not stop. She slanted her head to give him greater access. Her hands dove into his hair and she twirled the wavy mass between her fingers. Screw the consequences. She wanted him.
As if he read her thoughts, he deepened the kiss. His tongue fought hers, and she moved her hands to his neck, before resting them on his chest, before lowering to his waist. She wrapped her arms around him and her breasts nestled against him. The bulge between them told her of his hunger. His sinfully moist mouth against hers only fueled her fire.
Good Lord, it had been years since she’d been thoroughly kissed like this.
“Emma,” he said, his voice shaky.
Her name on his lips proved a fierce turn-on. He swept aside the hair covering her neck and placed ravaging kisses below the lobe, before taking it into his mouth, suckling the tender skin. Imprisoned by his powerful arms, she felt a myriad of emotions collide.
Before she lost her nerve, she focused on undoing and whipping his tie aside. Then she unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt, exposing his gorgeous male skin. Temptation made her press her mouth, there, beginning at the small thatch of bare skin, moving to his Adam’s apple and neck, where his pulse thrummed a heavy staccato against her lips, discovering that the more she sampled, the quicker his pulse thumped. Excitement coursed like smooth liquid silver through her veins.
He went almost completely still, as if it took everything for him to allow her to touch him this way, and not move a muscle. His fingers remained a powerful vise around her waist, digging into her flesh in the most arousing and delicious manner. As though what little was left of his self-control was quickly running out.
Closing her eyes, she pressed her nose into the crook of his shoulder, inhaling deeply, like a druggie getting high. She craved him, and wanted to taste him, like a sin she’d surely be damned for taking. The heavy beat of his heart matched her own, and honest to Pete, she did not wish to ever move from this spot with Patrick.
“Open your eyes, Emma.”
<
br /> She did as asked. In one swift motion, he grasped her by the waist and carried her toward the desk and set her on top. Her thighs parted of their own volition, and his eyes darkened to half-mast. The heat burning behind his gaze scorched her as she palmed the surface of the desk and waited.
Agonizing seconds passed before he rested his hands on her knees and moved one toward her waist. He grasped one breast in his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, stroking the already-sensitive flesh. All she really wanted him to do was rip the damned shirt off. Instead, his other hand lifted the edge of her skirt until bare skin greeted bare skin. His fingers played with the lacy edge of her thigh-high stockings.
His warm palms engulfed her cheeks, rubbing back and forth. His cologne, a subtle, yet sexy scent, sorely tempted her to bite him.
“My God, Emma, you’re so fucking beautiful. You’ve only grown sexier with age,” he whispered against the hollows of her neck, sending another shock wave of need coursing through her.
Even as she digested his words and her brain told her this was a bad idea, her libido stood at rapt attention. Weakening, she leaned into him.
She was about to open her mouth in protest, but the way he looked at her . . . Eyes burning with the same fire that swarmed within her. He moved her blouse aside partway before settling his hands around her hips, until her center deliciously pressed against his groin.
Lowering his head, he rained kisses against her collarbone, and still it was not enough. Rolling her head to the side, she silently granted him better access. His kisses turned urgent against her neck, along her collarbone, and toward her earlobe again.
She bit her lower lip as her lids drifted shut and she allowed him to kiss, taste, tease, and sample. Her hands itched to wander. Boldly grabbing his ass, she squeezed. The firm mounds felt heavenly against her fingertips. Yes, he had a very fine ass.
His tongue swept the inner recesses of her mouth and she moaned. Such ferocious kisses, his nearness, my God. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could withstand this kind of torture, but nonetheless. She cocked her head to grant herself better access to those—holy fucking hell—delicious lips.
His fingers roamed back to her parted legs, moving the skirt upward, baring her thighs to the cool air of the office. The first snap of one her garters pierced the otherwise silent space and woke her out of the seductive fog of a spell he had her under.
Gently, but with enough force, she shoved him until he stumbled awkwardly backward. A surprised look crossed his face, and the large bulge of his erection was now blatantly obvious.
With as much grace as she could muster, she jumped off the desk. Pulling her skirt back down, she paused. Her entire face and neck grew instantly warmed, as if she’d just stepped fresh out of a sauna.
An awkward, heavy silence engulfed them, and she wished she could think of something to say.
She couldn’t believe that if she hadn’t come to her senses, she’d have allowed him to lift her skirt, remove her blouse, and get naked himself, until they were having sex right here on this desk . . . Bad idea.
“What’s wrong, Emma?”
Patrick’s voice sounded distant.
“Nothing, I’m fine,” she lied.
You blew my mind with your wicked seduction, and I hate you. I hate myself even more.
That was what she wanted to say, because good grief, he had blown her mind with the most intense passionate kisses she’d not experienced since Greece. She bit her tongue to stop those particular words from coming out, too embarrassed as it was for having gotten this carried away.
Granted, nobody was here, nobody would know, and it was only a heavy make-out session, but, damn it. She was never one to lose control this quickly.
Especially after Luke, she should know better. She’d foolishly gotten involved with him at their job, and look where that’d landed her. Broken heart and broken relationship in tow, she’d moved back home and gotten her life back together. And she’d be damned if she was going to take a jaunt down that road again.
Composing herself, she said, “This cannot ever happen again. Please.”
He scoffed. “We have nothing to be ashamed of, Emma.”
Moving past him, she went to open the door. Averting her gaze, she said, “I’m sorry. I got just as carried away, but I think you need to go.”
Without a word, he picked up his tie and left.
She shut the door and slumped against it, sliding down until her bottom hit the ground. Thrusting her hands in her hair, she closed her eyes. Her body thrummed with still-fresh longing, excitement, and—let’s face it—fear.
She was afraid that with each earth-shattering encounter, her defenses would wear thinner and thinner, until she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from giving in. That she would become unable to push Patrick away. Because the truth was she wanted him so much it terrified her. And he should be off-limits. Not only had he hurt her, they worked together.
Oh. Boy. She was screwed.
~ ~ ~
Emma slowly rose out of bed the next morning. Warm fuzzies lingered in her belly. She’d had the most wonderful dream. A smile graced her lips as she made her way to the shower.
She grabbed the blouse she’d worn last night and lifted it to her nose, taking a long, appreciative whiff. Patrick’s scent and his strong cologne lingered on the fabric. Holy shit. She’d nearly had sex with him on her desk. At work. Dropping the shirt as though it were going to burn her, she shook her head.
Carry on, Emma. Forget about last night.
With this new mindset, she quickly showered, put on her robe, and made her way to the kitchen before getting dressed for the day.
The heavenly smell of freshly ground hazelnut coffee, wafted toward her nostrils, and right about now it sounded like just what she’d need to get through the day.
“Good morning, Ems.”
Standing over the stove, Sarah tossed a smile over her shoulder. She took the hard-boiled eggs out of the water and placed them in a cool bath. “Morning.”
As much as Emma wanted to tell Sarah about last night, she couldn’t. She grabbed a glass out of the cupboard and the orange juice out of the fridge. She unscrewed the cap, and then her mind drifted . . . Wow.
Patrick. Even in her daydreams, she could not escape him. The way he’d taken charge, and she’d given in. The way his hands explored. Even through her clothing, she’d responded. Explosive, mind-numbing kisses, much too delicious and rich, that even in memory she longed for the heat of his lips again. She bit her lower lip, thinking of his mouth doing the most sinful things to the skin on her neck, along her collarbone, and could only imagine all that hard, wonderful, naked, male skin pressed against her.
“. . . orange juice there?”
Sarah’s voice brought her out of the fresh erotic memory. Emma looked down, seeing orange juice overflowing her glass and going all over the sink. She met her friend’s curious gaze from across the counter. “Excuse me, did you say something?”
“Yes, got enough orange juice there? Where is your brain, Emma?”
She put down the juice glass and washed her hands of the sticky mess. “I, uh, kissed Patrick last night.”
Sarah’s ginger eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “And?”
“And, my goodness, it was amazing.” Although those words hardly seemed to cover it. That kiss could surely have lit ten thousand matches and still have enough heat to spare. His touch . . . like a strong, addictive whiskey, whoa. She swiped the light sweat beading at her forehead, wishing she could wipe the memory away as easily.
“Tell me more. This ought to be good.”
“We were this close”—she made a motion with her thumb and forefinger—“to brushing everything off my desk, and having sex, right there. And all that started with one single kiss. I cannot get involv
ed with a co-worker again, Sarah. That would be bad news.”
Who the fuck cares! Co-worker or not, we need to get laid! Her libido shouted.
Sarah drained the last sip of her coffee and set the mug aside. “Emma, first off, relax. It was just a harmless encounter.”
“Harmless? Hardly.” Emma covered her mouth. She hadn’t intended on voicing that thought out loud.
Her friend leaned forward. “Oh yeah? Now you definitely have to tell me. Come on, spill it.”
Emma rolled her eyes, drank her juice, and began telling her steamy story.
~ ~ ~
Patrick was slow in getting ready for work the next day. He lay in bed for, he didn’t know for how long, envisioning last night with Emma. Simply thinking of it brought forth memories he hadn’t thought of in years.
Damn, but she still tasted the same, of sunshine, saltwater, and sin. Even after all these years, he still remembered the once-shy girl he’d taken her for. Until that night on the beach . . . and the six more that followed. The sex hadn’t only been limited to the bedroom. Hell no. Coming out of her shell, she’d been the adventurous one, and they’d made love places where they risked getting caught.
Then he remembered how foolish he’d been after they’d returned to the States, and everything had changed.
He hadn’t been willing to admit it to himself even, that he’d felt more than he’d bargained for during that intense week. So he did the only thing he could think of. He’d stopped talking to her altogether, given her the cold shoulder, and hoped that she’d eventually lose interest. That was what he’d asked for, and that was exactly what he’d received.
Fuck, but he’d been stupid to let her go.
He shook his head. Slowly, he dragged his ass out of bed and got ready for the workday.
When he got there, he was hell-bent on going straight to Emma’s office and apologizing. Or, he’d ask her for a date. He didn’t know which.