“I haven’t seen you all day.”
Kris is standing there, hands in the pockets of the perfect suit that I didn’t have an chance to admire this morning when he helped me in the hall. I was too busy making sure that I wasn’t ogling him.
“No, you haven’t.”
Any ideas of him being the problem have evaporated after that conversation with my uncle. Kris has been nothing but kind. And more than that.
If I’m an addict, I really don’t want to resist this.
“Is everything okay?”
I shrug. “Yes and no.”
Kris’s face darkens. “What did Meynard do?”
“Nothing.” I say the word too quickly and he knows it. There’s no one else in the cafeteria, and no one to see the way he backs me into the corner against the wall. But I’m not afraid. This is exactly what I want. Him. Closer. And the danger is so much higher here than it was a t the gym this morning.
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” he says quietly. “Especially after I saw you walk away from me in that skirt.”
My heart kicks up into a faster rhythm. “You like this skirt?”
“I love this skirt.” Kris’s hand drifts across my hip. “It’s sexy as hell. I want to fuck you in it, and then I’ll be more than happy to fuck you out of it.”
All the air in my lungs goes short. “You can’t say things like that.”
“Why not?” He leans close and lips brush the shell of my ear. “No one but you is around to hear me.”
“Because,” I say, though my resolve is crumbling, “I’m an intern, and you’re an executive. And it could get us both in a hell of a lot of trouble.”
Kris grins. “I like trouble.”
“Kris—”
“And I like the way you say my name. Soon I’m going to have you screaming it.”
“Oh . . .” It’s a whispered moan because just the way he says it paints the picture that I want and need and suddenly I’m wet.
His hand traces lower on my skirt. “Tell me, Chianna. What kind of panties do you have on under this skirt?”
“It’s another thong. Like the one you stole.”
A smirk. “I borrowed it. Besides, you were running short on time.”
“Are you looking to borrow these too?” I ask, daring to look up at him and watch as his eyes darken.
His fingers reach the hem of my skirt and he bunches it in his fist. “As a matter of fact, I am. Are you going to let me?”
For several breathless moments we do nothing but stare at each other. Kris lets his eyes wander to my cleavage and back. “Why should I?” I ask. Whatever his reason, I want to hear him say it.
A slow smile touches his lips. It reminds me of the slow smile that he pushed directly against my pussy this morning, and it does absolutely nothing to help the wetness situation that I have going on. God, help me. “I want you to walk around this office knowing that you’re bared to the world and knowing that I was the one that did it. I want you to walk around in nothing knowing that my tongue was in your pussy this morning and your panties are in my pocket this afternoon. And then when today is over, I want you to go home and not do anything.”
My eyebrows rise. “What do you mean?”
In one smooth movement, Kris slips his hand under my skirt and up between my legs. I gasp, those same legs turning into jelly and making me fall back into the wall. Long, clever fingers stroke me through the thin fabric. I can already tell that the thong is soaking through, and a blush rises, blooming across my chest and cheeks.
“Fuck, I love it when you blush,” he says under his breath. “But what I mean is, you feel how good this is?”
A deliberate movement with his thumb over my clit has me biting my lip to keep from moaning. “Yes.”
“I mean that I want you to sink into this feeling. Savor it. And then when I stop, there’s no more. Not until I get you into my bed.”
My mouth drops open. Because there’s no way in hell I’m going to make it that long. I don’t even know when we’ll be able to make that happen. “Not even—”
“Nothing.” The sound is a pure growl. “Because I want you to feel the exquisite frustration of anticipation. And knowing that the next time you come will be with me. On my tongue. On my fingers. On my cock.”
I shudder. The way he says it makes my blood heat up and I can’t think clearly. I want that. And yet I want release. The kind that he’ll give me. Right now. “What about right now?”
Kris strokes the fabric again, going over my clit in slow circles until I’m arching into him. One small slip of his fingers and he could be inside me. “No,” he says, suddenly moving his hand and tugging on my thong until it starts to drop down my thighs.