Her grip on me tightened, and I had to swallow my grunt. If she kept up with that, the main event would be over before it began. “Lay back,” I said and guided her gently down to lay across her desk. Chestnut hair fanned out behind her, and she stared at me, begging, her hands circling her own breasts. “Please,” she whispered.
I stepped deeper between her thighs, spread wide and slick for me, and after sliding a condom on, I pushed my head against her opening, sinking into her.
Her thigh muscles tightened beneath my palms and she gasped, her legs clamping around my hips. I stayed still, my hips flush against her soft inner thighs as her silky, wet heat gripped me. It felt so fucking good… so tight and hot. Her breath hitched and her bottom lip trembled as she bit down on it.
I pulled halfway out and then sank in, hard. Fast. The small of her back bucked off the desk as she cried out in pleasure. Pulling her legs up over my shoulders, I rammed into her, my hip bones pounding against the backs of her thighs.
“Yes, oh God, yes,” she cried, and I found her clit with my thumb, circling over the ripe, swollen button of need.
I thrusted hard and fast, fucking her soft, slippery folds until she moaned and cried for it harder. “You’re so fucking tight,” I grunted and nipped the inner part of her knee as I completely lost myself inside of her. Nina. Perfect wet and ready Nina. Over and over, again and again, I slammed myself into her until my balls felt tight and drew closer to my body. An orgasm pulsed from my dick, shivering its way up my entire body until I was convulsing, falling over her.
I continued to thrust through each shivering throb until my climax was abated. Until I was certain that I had milked every last drop deep into her pussy before I collapsed on top of her.
I was enjoying laying there, our bodies pressed together, my fingers strumming over her back like the strings of a guitar. It felt… right. No, right wasn’t the correct word. Being in her arms felt like home. And I never wanted to leave.
Which was rare for me. I liked my sex fast, hard, rough… and anonymous. When it was over, I typically lost interest. A commitment-phobe, my ex-girlfriends had labeled me. And they weren’t wrong. I knew from the beginning with each of them that something was wrong—and not with them. We broke up as amicably as we could, I suppose. I just didn’t feel it. When I was spending time with my exes, I always found myself kind of wishing I was elsewhere… drinking with friends or my brothers instead of at dinner with a beautiful woman. I couldn’t picture myself sharing a home with them, having children with them, sinking inside of them night after night and not getting bored.
But with Nina? I could picture it. All of it. I saw our home—a beautiful two-story gated house near Runyon Canyon, where we could hike with Harley. I saw our wedding, our dinners—night after night of heart-pounding sex. And I saw children. Never in my life had I desired children. But the thought of Nina’s belly swollen with our baby made my heart thunder inside my chest. I wanted that fantasy.
And I wanted it with Nina.
Now, I just had to convince her to want the same thing.
Chapter 6
Nina
What have I done?
I had just finished telling Missy every dirty detail. Okay, well, maybe not every dirty detail… but she got the gist. I dropped my forehead to the table at Guiseppe’s as Missy stared at me, mouth agape. “I think we’re going to need another bottle of wine.”
“And a round of cannoli,” I added. Booze wasn’t my go-to feel-good option. It was Thursday night… almost a full work week since Sam and I had had sex. On my desk. On my first day at work.
Missy gestured at the server for another bottle of wine and two cannoli. Dutifully, she quickly brought them both over, and I barely waited for the wine to be poured before I grabbed my fork and dug into the flaky pastry.
“I thought you said he was a manwhore?” Missy said, opting to sip the wine rather than demolish her cannoli, like I did.
I groaned and rubbed the heels of my hands against my eyes. “He was,” I said, then quickly corrected myself. “Is.” But even that didn’t feel true any longer. Because the way he held me after we finished—the way he dragged his fingers up and down over my back and caressed me, cleaned me up after and helped me get dressed, felt intimate. It didn’t feel like a frustrated fuck to release the sexual tension between us.
Dammit. That would have been so much simpler. He was tender and sweet and he had tried checking in on me several times throughout the week. Thankfully, I was able to avoid him through Sarah and stuck my assistant on him every moment I could.
Not that I wanted to see him and Sarah together. I’d rather gouge out my eyes than watch him start a relationship with her. But for now, it was a good distraction to avoid talking about us… whatever us actually was.
Missy’s eyes lifted, moving over my shoulder. “Well, that manwhore seems to only have eyes for you.”
I bit off another chunk of cannoli and, with a mouth full of ricotta and pastry, asked, “What are you talking about?”
“Thirsty Thursdays at Guisseppe’s,” a deep voice rumbled from above me.
I froze mid-bite and turned to look at where Sam stood, still in his gray pinstripe pants, pink button-down shirt and patterned tie. Never in my life had I seen an actor dress up to go into a studio office every day like he did.
I glanced around, looking for his brothers, our producers, editors… anyone who might be here with him or catch us here together. “How did you know I’d be here?”
“Sarah,” he said, rocking back on his heels. “She’s pretty easy to get information from.”
“I bet she is,” I muttered and took a long sip from my wine glass.
Sam’s eyes narrowed at me. “I wouldn’t know any other way she was easy,” he said. “I only have eyes for one woman in our office.”
“Harley?” I asked, brows cocked and fully loaded like a semi-automatic weapon.
Missy leaned in, resting her elbows on the table. “Oh, is that his assistant.”
“My dog,” he clarified, that cocky smirk lifting the corners of his mouth. That same mouth that had been between my legs days ago, doing magical things to my body. “And sure. Maybe you’re right… I’ll always have eyes for Harley. She’s my top dog.”
“Oh,” Missy said, scrunching her nose. “I thought this was about to get juicy.” Then, reaching into her purse, Missy pulled out her wallet and tossed some cash down. “I should get going anyway,” she said. “Leave you two to talk.”
Sam smiled. “Thank you, Missy.”
I pursed my lips, shaking my head at my best friend. “You don’t need to do that. Sam was just leaving, I’m sure—”
“Actually, that cannoli looks awfully good. Maybe I’ll order one for myself.”
Missy gave me a little wave, hiking her purse onto her shoulder, and as she crossed behind Sam to leave, she pointed at me and mouthed, Talk to him.
This could not happen. I couldn’t sit here with this man I’d had sex with on my desk on the first day of my job and … what? Talk? Kiss? Let him smear cannoli cream on my body and lick it off…?