Page 72 of Love In Hiding

“No.”

“And I don’t have any condoms in the place. So I need to cool down.”

“Fuck that,” she said. Her eyes dropped to his dick straining at his shorts. “Two can play the same game.”

“You don’t need to.”

“And you didn’t need to get me off. It’s the polite thing. Tit for tat.”

He laughed at her as if she were joking. She wasn’t. She couldn’t. Because she needed to see what was in his shorts. What she’d been imagining in her mind.

“I’m good.”

“Nope. You’re not. And even if you say you are, I’m not. I’m not a tease and I really want to. So shut up and let me go.” The last words came out firmer than she’d planned. His grin stayed in place, but he put the water bottle down and didn’t shift away.

She moved her fingers to the button of his shorts, undid them quickly, parted them and tugged them down over his hips while he lifted.

Oh yeah. That was what she was talking about.

Long. Firm. Strong.

Her fingertips grazed over the tip and down the side, his cock bouncing with the feathery touch.

She really wished one of them had a condom. The fact he didn’t said everything she needed to know without words. That he wasn’t a player. He wasn’t always as prepared as he’d come off.

She gripped his dick. He wasn’t gentle with her, she wasn’t going to be with him.

Gentle wasn’t in her nature. He’d learn that if he didn’t already know.

She was positive he did.

Her fist was stroking him, her thumb brushing across the tip on the way up, gathering moisture, then spreading it on the way down.

A tiny moan escaped his lips. She wanted more than that little noise.

A lot more.

She jerked him hard, she went faster. Her eyes were locked on his face, his gaze matching hers.

The blue of his eyes had intensified. It was full of heat, just like her hand was full of him.

“That’s it,” she said, trying to do what he’d done to her. “Come all over me.”

His eyes shut, the noises coming out sounded more likepain, though she knew it was pleasure as he came all over her fingers and hand. She didn’t stop until she knew he was done. Until nothing else dribbled from the top.

His body sagged against the back of the couch just as hers had when she was finished.

She let go of him and stood, went to get some paper towels and brought them back.

“You’re going to need to change your shorts before dinner. You’re messier than me.”

He reached for the roll of towels. “You can win this round, but next time I’ll be more prepared.”

21

NEVER PREDICTABLE

On Monday, London came rushing into the conference room out of breath. “I’m not late,” she said.