My heart plummeted in my chest as I watched them talk. She twirled her blond hair between two bubblegum-pink manicured nails. “I’m sorry, Ms. Miller is booked today and all week. She doesn’t have availability for an appointment until next week—”
“Come on,” Sam prodded with a grin. “You can’t find a space? For me?”
Again, the giggle.
I clamped my eyes shut. It wasn’t her fault that she had a giggle. Or that she was perky and young and cute. You’re not an old maid yet! I could hear Missy saying to me. But if age was a state of mind, I was 29 going on 80.
With a deep breath, I pushed the door open, revealing myself to them. My assistant—whose name I hadn’t quite learned yet—jumped, quickly unraveling her hair from her fingers. “Ms. Miller! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there. I was just telling Sam that you don’t have any availability—”
“Don’t worry…” I looked at her until she filled in the blank.
“Sarah,” she said.
“Sarah,” I repeated. “I have a few minutes now that I could see him if this can’t wait.”
While Sarah seemed a nervous wreck at my entrance, Sam was quite the opposite. Cool in demeanor, he stood taller with his hands in the pockets of his dress pants studying my interaction with Sarah closely.
“I’d rather it didn’t wait,” he said and, not waiting for me to invite him in, simply strolled past me into my office.
I ignored my urge to roll my eyes and instead, gave Sarah the warmest smile I could. “Why don’t you head home for the night?” It was only ten minutes before quitting time, but her face lit up like I had just told her to go home at lunch. She was on her feet and out the door before I could shut the door behind me.
Sam circled my office, pausing to look at my framed degrees and awards, not yet hung on the wall. Then, he moved on to glance through some of my framed pictures—the only things I had managed to find a place for on this busy day. “There’s no picture of a boyfriend?”
“Can’t have a picture of that which doesn’t exist.”
“Hm.”
Hm? That’s all I get? I sighed and stomped over to stand in front of him in an effort to get this over with. “Well? What is so urgent?”
“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” he said.
Wrong foot? Okay, Captain Obvious from the seaship, Duh. I huffed a laugh and crossed my arms.
“I know the other night, filming the show, we embarrassed you—”
“You think I’m being hard on your show because I’m embarrassed?” This. Fucking. Man. I took a deep breath to collect my thoughts. Because, isn’t that always what we had to do? Us women in power? We could never be the brash one who stormed into an office and demanded a meeting when there wasn’t one available… not without the men in the office taking bets on when our period starts. “It is my job to ensure that the network stays profitable and avoids a lawsuit. I’m sorry to apparently be the first person in your short career on television to tell you that you and your show are liabilities.”
He pointed at me, a smug, yet angry grin tipping his mouth, and I noticed the tiniest scar at the corner on the left side. “That. That right there. ‘You and your show.’ You’re specifically bringing me into this battle when there are three other men doing exactly the same thing as me on network TV. Yet, you’re making this fight about you and me, specifically. Don’t stand there and tell me this isn’t personal, it’s business. I see right through that bullshit… Ms. Miller.” He spat my formal name back at me like an insult. And yet, hearing it like that created a flight of butterflies in my belly. I squeezed my thighs together as the ache there grew.
I stepped closer to him, thanking God for my three-inch heels, because otherwise, I barely would have hit his shoulder height with my forehead. At least now I was almost nose to nose with him… if I stood tall and tilted my chin up. “Your brothers didn’t undermine me in the middle of my first meeting. Your brothers didn’t show up at my dinner and interrupt a private meal—
“Don’t you mean your ‘date’?” He threw air quotes around the word, and I swear to God if we didn’t have to work together in this office, I might have slapped him. Or kissed him.
“Your brothers,” I reiterated, “aren’t cocky bastards.”
“Ha!” he threw his head back in laughter. “You clearly don’t know them well yet. Besides…” I didn’t think it was possible for him to step closer to me, yet he did. His broad chest was so close to mine that with each heavy breath, my nipples were nearly brushing his. Awareness buzzed between our bodies, so alive that it felt like the particles in the air were vibrating. “I think you like it. I think you like that I’m a cocky bastard.” His voice was irresistibly warm, and his gaze dropped briefly, skimming down my body before snapping back up to meet my eyes. That gaze of his was so visceral, it might as well have been his hand sliding down over my flesh.
How did he know that? Could he tell that goosebumps raised on my skin every time I was close to him? Could he sense the fact that I had touched myself all weekend with thoughts of his face between my legs? Could he tell that my breasts were heavy with arousal, nipples so hard I could feel them pressing painfully against the material of my shirt?
A shiver rocked my spine even though I wasn’t the least bit chilly. My eyes settled on his mouth, full and wet, and I was transfixed as his tongue slipped out and slicked across that bottom lip. Dammit, why did he have to be so fucking sexy? “Mr. Murphy,” I finally managed to say. Sadly, it wasn’t as forceful and harrowing as I had hoped it would be, and his name was a mere pant in my voice. I had to clear my throat before continuing. “You are the most incorrigible, frustrating—”
But before I could finish, his mouth was on mine, ravaging me. His hand cupped my jaw, thumb stroking my cheekbone as his tongue coaxed my lips to open for him… and they hungrily complied. I was rewarded with his groan as he slid his tongue into my mouth.
The kiss was good. So fucking good that it was damn near perfect.
His hand wrapped around my hair, tugging my neck back, and the sensation had a direct line to my core. I wanted his hands clutching every inch of my body. Gripping me hard, thrusting, pinching.
My skin was on fire, straining and hot for every inch Sam had to give me. The only way to extinguish those flames was for Sam to slam deep inside of me and thrust until we both forgot that we were here in my office—our office—literally my first day on the job.
He palmed my breast and grunted as he tore his mouth away from mine. “Fuck, Nina,” he growled. “Safe word. Give me your safe word now.”
I blinked rapidly. This wasn’t typically how things were done. There was usually discussions and contracts and limits set. But lust took over reasonability, and on an exhale, I answered him. “Jitterbug.”
He smirked and pinched my nipple. “Jitterbug,” he repeated, gliding his hands down to my waist, he spun me quickly so that I was no longer facing him. “Hands on your desk,” he demanded. “Don’t even think about moving them. Not for a fucking second.”
His hand settled between my shoulder blades as he pushed me further over my desk. Yes. I wanted to be fucked like the dirty girl I was, right here in my new office, on my new desk.