Well, let’s see. I’m about to have sex with my boss. He doesn’t do relationships. I’m kind of already seeing someone. Oh, and the last guy I let into my heart smashed it to pieces, and scattered it somewhere between New York and California.
I don’t say that, though; I shrug instead.
“Come here,” he says, grabbing my hand again and walking us over to his bed. He sits and pulls me between his legs as he rests his forehead against my stomach. A shiver of pleasure makes its way down my spine at the feel of his breath passing through the thin fabric of my dress and heating my skin. I close my eyes and let my hands slide through his hair absentmindedly as I wage war in my head about whether to let this happen.
His hands begin a slow caress of the back of my thighs. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Tweet. You’ve tied me in knots from the first second I saw you on my stage. You’ve made me question everything to the point where nothing makes sense anymore.” My hands drop to his shoulders, and his head lifts so that he’s looking at me. “The only thing I’m sure of at the moment is that I want you.”
My breath hitches and good God, do I want him, too. More than I want my next breath. But what then? What happens after that? My head’s a jumbled mess of thoughts of Cole and Daniel and how I’m ever going to find the strength to be able to resist this.
“I’m confused, Cal. I need time. I’ve been trying to distance myself from my problems and all I’m doing is causing new ones.”
His hands drop from the back of my thighs, and his head lowers and shakes.
“That’s not really the response I was looking for, Tweet. I don’t want to be one of your problems.”
“You’re not,” I backtrack. “I’m just—I don’t know—scared,” I whisper.
He stands and cups my face in his hands. Electricity runs the length of my spine, and I shudder. He notices and a small smile quirks the corner of his mouth.
“You don’t need to be scared, Robyn. I’ll chase your monsters away.”
His mouth is hungry and possessive as it covers mine, and all rational thoughts fly out the window, along with all my morals and common sense. Right now I’m his, and I’ll deal with the consequences of our actions tomorrow.
MY RULES HAVE turned to pure crap. Don’t shit where you sleep.
Fail.
Don’t fuck the staff.
Currently failing.
I should have added a caveat, one that reads Unless it’s Tweet. But then that wouldn’t work either because what we’re doing right now? It isn’t going to be fucking. It’s already so much more, and I know without a doubt I’m screwed. This magnetism and the need to protect her should terrify me, but it doesn’t.
I spin us around and lift her, placing her in the center of my bed. I’ve dreamed about what she’d look like here so many times. I must have a terrible imagination because they didn’t even begin to come close to how beautiful she looks laid out in front of me now. If it wasn’t such a creepy fucking thing to do, I might be tempted to grab my cell and take a picture because I never want to forget what she looks like in my sheets.
I lift her leg and slowly pull the stiletto from her foot, tossing it on the floor behind me. I lower it back down and do the same with the other before running my hands up against her long silky-smooth legs.
Up.
Up.
Oh my God, up.
I reach the hem of her dress and then push my fingers underneath, carrying on my assault. The fabric pools at my wrists and rides up to where my hands have stalled at the apex of her thighs. I drag my eyes back to her face, and she has her head pressed into the mattress and her back arched biting her bottom lip, watching me.
This isn’t going to last long, I can already tell. Just the sight of her has me painfully hard, and I’ve not even touched her properly.
My fingers grip the hem of her panties and pull down slightly. “Is this okay?” I ask, praying she won’t stop me.
There are no words, she just nods her head vigorously, and it’s all the encouragement I need. I drag the little black scrap of lace all the way down her legs and toss them on the floor. “You won’t be needing these.”
Her legs fall apart as I nestle myself between them, and I can’t breathe. I want so badly to look at her, watch her face as I push my fingers into her, but it’s impossible. My eyes are glued to where my fingers are now deftly tracing her seam, and I’m playing a dangers game with myself. If I carry on, I’m pretty sure I’ll finish before I’ve even started, and I can’t let that happen. I can NOT let it happen. I push against her and watch as my fingers disappear into her warm wet depths.
Damn, she’s tight.
Her breathing sounds as erratic as mine feels, and I could come undone just listening to the little moans she’s letting escape. It’s about as much as I can take listening to her. I reposition myself, so I’m above her, my hand still coaxing the sounds of pleasure from her beautiful lips. I kiss her as softly as I can manage, although I’m sure it’s not soft at all. My fingers are working their way in an out in a punishing rhythm, while my thumb circles her, making her back arch higher and higher.
Her hands grab fists full of my hair, and she’s writhing beneath me like she’s about to bust into a million shattered pieces. Her legs are shaking, and she’s growing louder and louder and wetter and wetter. I feel like I’m about to lose the battle and come just from the sight and sound of her nearing her own release. Then silence. It only lasts a moment as her body tenses, and I realize it’s the calm before the storm. And holy shit, what a storm.
Her body almost lifts completely from the bed as she screams my name. It’s the only way I ever want to hear her speak it again for as long as I fucking live because it’s magnificent. I don’t move until her body begins to slacken and sink into the mattress, and then I’m up and off her in a matter of seconds. I rip my jeans and boxers down at the same time, stepping out of them as I lean and grab a condom from my nightstand. I stretch to flick the bedside lamp on, flooding the room with a warm glow. I want to make sure I can see every bit of this. I toss the foil packet on the bed beside her and pull my shirt up over my head, throwing it with the rest of our clothes.
Her eyes grow wide, but they’re filled with heat and want. My head is fogged with desire, and I can’t think of anything other than being inside her right now.
“Lift your arms,” I say, and my voice sounds low and gravelly even to my own ears. I lean over and pull her dress up and over her head. Her perfect chest bounces and my whole body tightens at the sight. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and her dark pink nipples are pebbled, tormenting me to lick and suck and bite them. It’s too much. She’s too much.
“Christ, Tweet. Do you even realize what you do to me? I want this to be perfect, to feel so fucking good for you that you’ll never want to do anything else, but if I don’t get inside you right now I’m going to explode, I…”
“Then what are you waiting for?” she coos, picking up the foil packet beside her. I watch in painful rapture as she takes it between her teeth and rips it open. I’m positive I’ve never seen anything as sexy. From now on, only she gets to open condom packets. My body is on fire just watching her. She leans forward onto all fours and then about slays me as she takes me in her hand. Nothing has ever felt like this.
Nothing.
The feel of her gliding the condom down over me is enough for me to die a happy man right here and now. I can feel her hot little hand at my base and then in one quick movement I have her arms pinned above her head in one of mine, and I’m guiding myself inside her with the other.