Malcolm’s hand is behind my neck, fingers weaving into my hair and holding me still so that he can kiss me deeper and oh my fuck, the man can kiss.
“Inside,” he says against my lips, voice rough.
Right. Yes. Inside. More privacy, less chance of any other stragglers seeing us. Yes.
He manages to get us through the door without stopping kissing me. Somewhere in my senses I hear the door click closed and feel Malcolm’s desk against my ass. “God, I’ve wanted to do that all day.”
“Me too,” I admit.
“I can’t explain it.” His eyes are fierce as he pulls back to look at me. “It’s visceral.”
I nod because I know exactly what he means. The chemical attraction that’s pulling me toward him even while he’s touching me. He watched my reels. Looked me up because he couldn’t stop thinking about me.
It makes my stomach swoop.
“I thought I could hold back. And then I saw you on your knees.”
Malcolm kisses me again, and this is more than a kiss—it’s leading somewhere. His fingers slip under the edges of my jacket and send it sliding back on his desk. There’s a clatter. Something getting knocked over. And he hauls me up and back onto the surface, my shoes falling off my feet.
This skirt is too tight. I can’t open my legs nearly wide enough, and he knows. Growls at it. “Let’s get this off.”
“You first,” I breathe, shoving his own suit off his shoulders and unbuttoning his shirt as quickly as I can. Holy shit. This man might as well be made of marble. The kind of body that you work for, and it shows.
I skim my hands down his chest, exploring the grooves of his muscles and the dips of his abs all the way down to the lines on his hips that disappear below his belt.
He’s smirking at me. “Meet your expectations.”
“So, so much better than my expectations,” I say, breathless.
It’s his turn, and he undoes the buttons on my shirt one by one, never breaking eye contact with me until they’re all open. Then his eyes consume me. They take in the lacy bra that I chose at random this morning and the way that my nipples are hard through that lace.
He peels the shirt back over my arms, but doesn’t take it off completely. My arms are trapped a little by the fabric, restless. “Wait,” he says, pulling me off the desk with ease and guiding me to the wall of windows behind the desk. He turns me and presses me against the glass. The cool surface against my front, and the heat of him at my back are overwhelming.
The lights are on in his office. “Someone could see.”
“True,” he says, and I hear the wicked grin in his voice. “Right now, someone could be looking out their window and see you have naked, pinned against my window.” My breath catches as he unhooks my skirt and it pools around my feet. “Soon enough they’re going to see all of you. Completely naked. Getting fucked against my window.”
A moan escapes me. “I didn’t peg you for an exhibitionist.”
“I’m not,” he says with a dark laugh. “But I’m also not selfish. I’ll share you with the rest of Los Angeles.” Hands skim my waist, dragging fingers down my ribs until they hook into my panties and shove them down.
I can’t breathe at all. His bare skin on my back is driving me insane. I want more. And he gives it to me, curling his hand around and finding out exactly how wet I am. He circles my clit with his thumb, and I writhe against the glass. “Is this what you do with all the girls in your office?” I ask with a grin. “You share them with L.A.?”
He flips me around so my back is against the glass, and continues the casual stroking of his fingers. “I’ve never fucked anyone in this office,” he says, eyes dark and serious. “Just you.”
A finger slips inside me, and my eyes flutter closed. I’m not a virgin by any means, but I’ve never felt the way that he makes me feel. He’s barely touched me, but already that single finger feels like it’s drowning me in pleasure.
Malcolm’s mouth crashes down on mine again, and he pushes two fingers deep, thumb still on my clit. “Oh, fuck.” I just manage the words.
“Show me how you come.” The words are low and powerful. A command as he works my body. He may not have fucked anyone in this office, but Malcolm Meyer is used to being obeyed. And right now, I don’t hate it. I give in, focusing on the pleasure and heat that’s spiraling with every movement of his fingers. I’m so turned on that it won’t take much.
He lowers his mouth to my neck, free hand pulling my breasts out of my bra to tease my nipples back and forth, thoroughly overwhelming me. The movements of his fingers are steady and smooth, finding the pace that makes me gasp and staying there. Carrying me higher and higher, until I’m shuddering around his fingers, falling into sudden pleasure.