Sadie cleared her throat, drawing my attention her way.
I blinked, spied her confusion, and beamed a smile at her. It was her turn to blink, before she licked her lips and, breathily, asked, “Would you like coffee, sir?”
“Please.” While I drowned in his eyes, I rasped, “What would you like to drink?”
“A black coffee. Thanks, Sadie.”
Something had changed in his posture. Turning nervousness at being called into my office, which made sense as interns were so beyond my radar this meeting was unheard of, to outright agitation at Sadie’s fluttering lashes.
He twisted to watch her go, saw her peer back at me with a fleeting glance that spoke of her crush on me, and the next time he glanced my way, I saw his pique.
Understood it.
What stunned me was that his jealousy didn’t irritate the hell out of me.
I’d been sitting at my desk when Sadie had told me he was here, had stayed there when the doors opened, revealing a man that made me glad my desk was made of wood so it shielded the sudden painful boner he gifted me as a greeting, and it was stupid.
Reckless.
Crazy.
But I stood up.
Boner and all.
Watching as his pique faded away after his gaze drifted over me.
By comparison, my shoes alone probably cost more than his monthly rent. My suit was bespoke, everything about my outfit was night to his day, and yet, what he did for that cheap piece of polyester was magical.
In his case, the suit didn’t make the man. With me? It certainly augmented things up a notch.
He allowed the heat in his eyes as I rounded my desk to flare wide and free, not banking it as he should, as I should encourage. His hands balled into fists as his eyes stayed locked on my hard-on, and I felt a curious sensation whirl to life inside me.
This was what it felt like to be in the light.
Experiencing these things in the shadows, in the dark of night, sordid and shameful fumblings that were, nevertheless, the most powerful experiences of my life—but this was different.
I felt different.
It couldn’t be said that I was a submissive man. Not in my life or in my career choices. Only in the dark rooms did I ever give, instead of take, but my shoulders straightened, I stood taller, even. Everything about me morphed. As if, in the heat of the sun, the light of day, I was better.
I was me.
My throat worked at the stupid thoughts—I left the prose and narrative to authors who could do a better job than me—but under his jealous stare, I tipped up my chin and rasped, “Problem?”
As if he had the right to be possessive over me, his nostrils flared when his temper got the better of him. “She has a crush on you.”
“Most women in my employ do.”
If I sounded cocky, so be it. I was. Had reason to be. I wasn’t saying I had a face that would sink a thousand ships, but my bank account could. Few women weren’t enamored of that.
I shoved my hands into my pockets with a casualness that was totally feigned, which drew his attention to my dick once more.
Fuck, this was only going to make a bad situation worse, but I couldn’t help myself.
It was like being in the dark room—only in my fucking office.
A split second was the difference between me spying the slight lowering of the door handle, before Sadie remembered herself and quickly tapped on the door.
“Come in,” I called out, turning my back on her so she couldn’t see the shameful state of me and I peered out of the windows, staring at my adopted city.
New York was melting under the sun’s powerful rays. Three days into a heatwave and it was a wonder everyone hadn’t turned into crisps, but the blinding gleam of the sun against the walls of windows opposite me, to my left, my right, to my back, was the shock to the system I needed.
Like an eraser clearing away my sight, it let me take a break from staring at the sheer masculine perfection standing behind me, and gave me a second to get myself in line.
My singular problem?
I didn’t want to be back in line.
I wanted a blowjob.
I wanted those pillowy lips back around my dick, his tongue slurping up my pre-cum. I wanted to watch him swallow every ounce of cum I had in my balls. I wanted—
Fuck.
I just wanted.
Plain and simple.
My mind was at war. Rational sense and the heated desires of the dark room where everything was irrational fused together so tightly that I couldn’t pull them apart.
I needed to be professional.
I’d never felt less interested in the business side of things.
This meeting was a mistake. A big, fat, fucking mistake. I knew it like there was a flashing neon sign advertising it to the world at large.
Upon seeing him in the elevator this morning, there were many things I should have done, and this current course of action wasn’t one of them.
I shored myself up, rallied my defenses until I heard the door to the reception close as Sadie shut herself out of my sanctuary. That was when I turned around.
When I saw him there.
No longer by the door where he’d been standing before. No longer dozens of feet away from me.
There.
Right behind me.
So close the air I inhaled was permeated with that lemongrass aftershave he wore.
So close I could see the tiny striations in his lips, the natural creases and the Cupid’s bow I’d licked last night.
So close that I could feel his heat, smell his laundry detergent, reach out, if I wanted, to stroke the lock of hair that had fallen forward to bob on his brow.
My hands actually trembled with the need to do that. To have the right to feel the crisp silk between my fingertips. To hold some part of him, some innocent, innocuous part in my grasp.
To connect to him.
Defenses down again, I gritted my teeth to fight the urge before I rasped, “What are you doing?”
“You know what.”
The surety in his voice was so at odds with this morning when he’d darted out of the elevator like a frightened rabbit. Anxiety and worry seeming to seep from his pores as I watched him hurry down the hall.
Now, he was strong and assured, confident in himself without being arrogant as he stepped into me, his torso clashing against mine as he reached up, held my cheeks in place and kissed me.
Actually. Fucking. Kissed. Me.
His head slanted just at the last second so that he could join our lips, bring them together so that we could taste one another again in the puddle of sunlight around us. And somehow, though it made no sense, he tasted better. Richer. More intense.
He tasted so good that I couldn’t pull back, pull out of his hold. I had no choice but to sink into this kiss like he sank into me, his muscles aligning themselves with my torso, his hardness brushing against mine, but merging too.
His dick was there, a solid presence on my abs, and my butt clenched with remembered need. The desire to have him back inside me was so overwhelming that I groaned as I reached for him, no longer content to be passive, to have him kiss me.
I needed to experience all of this, all of him, right now.
My hands went to his hair, those thick, dark flaxen locks that felt superb against my fingers, and I tugged at him, dragging him where I needed him. How I needed him.
He complied, showing that same contrasting push and pull of last night—eager to act, eager to lead, but also eager to concede. It was delicious, delightful. If he’d been more aggressive, I might have shoved him away, but he was too earnest in his passion to reject.