Because of what I did to his sister last night.
I glance at the photo on the wall of the conference room, one of Sean and me at a hockey game shortly after Adored went public. We were having the time of our lives, rooting for our team and high on the success of our new public venture. Now, though? I see him up in heaven, banging a fist on the cloudy floor, wanting to know why the fuck I thought it was okay to show his baby sister how to come so hard she saw stars.
“And that’s what we have going on in distribution,” Debra says, the bespectacled head of that department finishing her status report.
“Great. Fantastic.” I turn to goateed Taylor, who’s up next with a download on production.
As he talks about factory capacity, my mind drifts dangerously again to CJ, her hot body clenching on me when she came. She was so tight, and it felt fucking amazing, but the best part was how abandoned and shameless she was, rocking against me, chasing her own pleasure.
She shook me to my core.
How could she do that? Be so innocent and yet mind-blowingly sexy at the same time? That’s what’s driving me crazy. She’s a beguiling mix of contradictions—a wildly sensual woman and yet a virgin.
I want her again. Right here. Right now. Want to push up her skirt and slide into her.
But. She. Is. My. Partner’s. Sister.
Oh yeah, and I’m in a meeting.
I do my best to refocus, but Taylor already gave me a heads-up on this yesterday, and I have more pressing things on my mind. I like to take my time with a woman, explore her body, drive her wild with pleasure, but I’m not really known for going gentle and easy. That’s not my MO. And I’ve never been with a virgin, not even when I was one. Hell, I lost my virginity to a woman who was way more experienced. She was four years older and knew exactly what she wanted, and I was a lucky son-of-a-bitch that she was willing to deal with my teenage self.
But I’m a guy. I didn’t need coaxing along the road to sexual self-realization.
Now, with CJ, I’m . . . concerned.
What if I scare her or, God forbid, hurt her without meaning to? I could never forgive myself.
What if I lose control and take her hard, fucking her up against a wall because I just can’t hold back. Can’t take another second of being so close but not close enough?
That’s why I left so abruptly last night. Staying there, breathing her in with her body so warm and smelling like sex, would have killed my resolve. I had to get the hell out of her sensuality zone and cool off.
Though cool isn’t the best adjective to describe the scenes that played out in my head when I returned home, unzipped my pants, and came in my hand mere minutes after the door shut behind me.
But cool, calm, and collected is how I’ll have to be for lesson two. Sucks that I have to wait another night to get my hands on her since she has theater tickets tonight. Fucking Hamilton. But I’m sure I’m not the first guy to play second banana to that musical.
I drag my fingers through my hair before dropping my hand to the armrests of the leather chair Sean once occupied. I move them to my lap as if I’ve been burned by the ghost who’s haunting me, whispering in my ear, If you hurt her, I will break your fucking back.
And he would. He absolutely would.
But I don’t want to hurt her. I only want to bring her pleasure.
“Graham?”
I swivel around. My COO Christopher stares at me from across the table, expecting a response. And I’ve no idea what item on the agenda he’s referring to, or when the hell we moved from Taylor to Christopher.
Plus, I’m sporting an incredibly inconvenient erection.
Shit. Time to call upon the old standby. I imagine them all naked. As horrifying an image as that is—it will require bleach to wipe it away—it does the trick.
I tap my fingers on the conference table. “Yeah, I was thinking about that one,” I bluff. I can’t let on that my mind wandered. Not with the board vote next week. Besides, I’m supposed to be on a sex-batical, not an intensive immersion course. I need to act like my brain isn’t hanging out on naughty shores all day long.
“Yes?” Christopher leans forward.
I heave a deep sigh. The kind that says a thoughtful answer is coming.
“And I wonder if we’re ready for that yet?” I say, figuring this is like the SAT. If you don’t know the answer, you take a guess. That seems like a reasonable response to any question that might have arisen.
Christopher furrows his brow. “We’re not ready to move up the release of the new corsets? We just secured space for them in our lineup.”