Page 45 of Love Under the Microscope
“What?” Nigel asks, his voice sharp, most likely due to blue balls.
“Eww,” Zelda mouths again.
“Such a gentleman,” I mouth, and the laughter in Zelda’s eyes is probably mirrored in mine.
“I’ll be right there,” Nigel says, still pushing in and out of the woman without sounding out of breath.
I drop my forehead to Zelda’s, and we wait, listening to the rustling of clothes and to the barest hints of conversation from two people who just fucked on a desk.
“I’ll call you,” Nigel says, and they leave the office. The door clicks.
We wait to make sure they don’t return. The office remains quiet, and the door doesn’t reopen.
“That was fun.” Zelda sighs as if we’d played a round of mini golf.
I burst out laughing. “You have such bad taste. You know that, right?”
“What? It was pretty funny.”
“I don’t mean listening to them have sex. I mean in men. Although, thinking of us being beneath Nigel rutting some woman is fun but is also bad taste.” I shake my head but smile. This woman is too much. “You seriously need to get out more. Maybe take up horseback riding or something.”
“Oh, that’s a big no. Horses scare me. Maybe I can start playing pickleball.”
She would look cute in a little sports skirt. I can’t help it. I have to kiss her again. This time, though, it’s a sweet, quick kiss to her forehead. That’s all I dare now that we’re alone.
“Come on.” I give her hip a squeeze. “Let’s find what we came here for before they decide to come back and finish.”
She shivers as if grossed out by the thought. “God, I hope not.”
We crawl from underneath the desk, and as I help Zelda to her feet, she gives me a shy smile.
“Do you really think I have bad taste in men?” she asks. Suddenly, she appears vulnerable and not the hard-ass executive assistant to the co-CEOs of a major pharmaceutical company. I know she’s been with Nate and Nigel, but I’m sure she’s had other boyfriends.
“Only some.” I kiss her again. I don’t know why I feel the need to kiss her again, not after the hot and heavy one under the desk, but I do. The peck isn’t nearly long enough, but she’s backing away, so I let her go.
“You’re not included in that,” she says as if trying to reassure me. “If it’s true.”
I watch her carefully and see a host of emotions sweep across her face. She’s second-guessing herself. When she steps away, I grab her.
“Nope,” I say. “You came here for a reason, and you’re not leaving just because you’re second-guessing a few kisses.”
“I don’t know if you and I are a good idea.”
“Me either.” And I don’t. But that doesn’t stop me from pulling her closer and kissing her again. One hand goes to her ass and the other between her shoulder blades as Zelda’s arms hang at her sides. She’s engaging in the kiss—she definitely is—but it’s almost as if I’ve taken the air from her lungs.
“Wow,” she says breathlessly when I finally ease away.
Wow is one way to describe it.
What the fuck just happened?
My blood continues to stream to my dick, and I physically shake myself so I can refocus on the task at hand. Note to self: that isn’t kissing Zelda.
This is a problem. A big one.
I shouldn’t be kissing any woman, let alone thinking about how much my balls ache and how fucking sexy she’d look screaming out an orgasm. Man, I have it bad for her.
The question is why?
