She was taking this situation and she was owning it, goddamn her. Well played, Miss Weiss.
I tightened my arms, pulling her against me. My hand moved to the back of her head as my head sank to hers. Now I was the one in control—or at least that was the lie I told myself as I pushed my tongue into her mouth.
Chapter 7
April
He was kissing me. My boss. The man I loathed. That smoking hot dude in the swim trunks with the surfer’s bod. He was kissing me.
My lips were bruising and swelling from the pressure he put on them as he forced my mouth open and slid his tongue inside. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to resist that all-consuming tingling feeling that was starting at the back of my throat, slithering down my spine, coiling in my center like a traitorous snake. I may have been annoyed with him, but this kiss and his hold on me aroused me in seconds.
Jordan’s arm remained locked around my rib cage, pressing me against him. The other hand traveled down my back, sliding along the silky material of my dress to fondle my ass. A low growl rose in the back of his throat and suddenly I was finding it hard to remain standing.
In my mind, I tried to summon up the memories of all those times he sent me back to the coffee shop. Considering it was almost every damn day, you wouldn’t think it would be that difficult. But his smell—that hint of spice and sage and a salty tang—filled my nose, turning my insides into warm goo.
His breath was coming fast, and that mouth—those lips, that tongue—were doing wicked things to me. All at once I was aching, from my breasts to the dull throb between my legs. Aching with desire, hot, thick and heavy.
There was a fire in my belly that only he could put out. The feel of his solid abs against my rib cage, his hot arousal against my stomach. His mouth teasing mine and never letting up. Everything in my body trembled and everything inside my brain was taking a back seat to this new feeling of pure, seething lust.
My hands grasped at his t-shirt, pulling fistfuls before sliding up those perfect pecs to latch around his neck. Both his hands were on my ass and he nudged me, directing us to the couch. I stepped out of my shoes and went with him, ordering myself not to think about the irony that, by removing my shoes, I was giving him what he wanted. Right now I was ready to give him a whole lot more than that.
Without removing his mouth from mine, he pushed me down beneath him onto the couch. The weight of him on top of me felt so goddamn good. I wanted him to smother me, encompass me, press me underneath him and have his way with me.
His hand slid up my thigh, pushing up the skirt of my dress, and my legs cinched around his narrow, hard hips. He ground them against me and we both gasped in unison.
I tried to ignore the warning blipping at the back of my mind but it grew louder and louder, and I didn’t have the excuse that alcohol was clouding my judgment. He was my boss. This was a huge mistake. If I went to bed with him—like my body was now demanding that I do—I would regret it. It would be as huge of a potential disaster as sex with the mystery man at Comic-Con.
But the other side of my brain was flashing the green light and sounding the bugle cavalry charge full speed ahead, hormones a-raging. I was about to get lucky with the second hot man in two weeks…
My hands stilled as my mind raced and his hand caressed the inside of my thigh. He wasn’t saying anything, but his mouth was claiming mine, making the room spin. Every sense seemed to hyper-focus itself into a tunnel of sensation that was only him. His smell. His heat. His hands. His tongue. My body throbbed in time with the movements of his strokes across my feverish flesh.
I didn’t just want this. I hungered for it—I craved it.
One hand stroked my chest through the satin of my dress. My nipples hardened painfully, ultrasensitive to his touch. His thumb brushed over my nipple, the pressure between my legs increasing to a near painful degree.
He pinched it and white-hot pleasure shot through my body and straight down to that coiled snake at my center. I let out a little cry, but he didn’t relent.
“I want these tits in my mouth, Weiss,” he groaned.
Those words almost made me peel my own clothes off my body. I wanted his mouth on my breasts. Sucking, nipping, licking.
I rubbed my hips against his, fucking him through his clothes. His hands slid under me to reach the zipper on the back of my dress. I arched my back to give him access and our mouths broke contact. His eyes opened and he stared into mine. We were both breathing like we’d just broken the surface after ten minutes of submersion. His warm breath bathed my face, his eyes almost black with lust.
“I got you out of those goddamn shoes,” he finally said as he worked the zipper down. “But I don’t give a shit. Because I want you out of this dress more.”