“Don’t.” He dragged a thumb over her bottom lip.
She gasped. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t you dare choose now to be rational.” He wouldn’t have the wind sucked out of his sails.
“All right. I won’t.” She rose on her toes and kissed him. The caress of her mouth was so light, he felt the heat of her skin more than the brush of her lips.
He gripped the back of her neck, holding her in place, and kissed her back. Need roared through him. It danced on his fingertips and curled in his toes and singed his chest. Giving in to her was the worst fucking idea he’d had in ages. And the last thing he wanted was to stop.
Chapter Ten
THIS WAS A BAD, HORRIBLE, terrible idea. Career suicide. The equivalent of Emily lighting her resume on fire.
Justin pushed her jacket to the ground, pulled back the collar of her shirt, and bit her shoulder. The sharp sting drowned out her doubt.
“Let me help you a bit.” He kissed up her neck, while he trailed his fingers down the front of her blouse. “This is the part where you say,No. We shouldn’t.”
“Mmhmm.” She tilted her head back as he dragged his mouth along her throat.
He reached her waist and undid the bottom button on her shirt. “That it was only supposed to be a one-time thing.” He moved back up, undoing each button he encountered and brushing her bare stomach. “That it’s not professional.”
She was amused he vocalized her thoughts better than she could. It was hard to think when he was sucking a path down her chest, to the top of her breast, then gliding above the lace of her bra. “Then what do I say?” she asked.
“Well...” His words hummed against her skin, and her nipples strained against fabric, wanting individual attention. He traveled his mouth back up to her jaw. “You don’t say much of anything, because you can’t talk when you’re kissing me.”
Good suggestion. She grasped the short strands of his dark hair and pulled his head up. When she kissed him again, tingles rolled over her. He rested a hand on her back, under her shirt, and pulled her close until her body molded to his. His palm was hot. It didn’t matter how many arguments she came up with; she didn’t want to break away. Tension flowed between them like electricity, raising the hairs on her arms and aching with need between her legs.
He let go, pulled back, and placed a finger on her lips. “You remind me you forgot to lock the door.”
“That’s actually a good one.” She grasped his wrist. With a flick of her tongue, she drew his finger into her mouth, to trace a line over the pad. She dragged the digit over her bottom lip before letting go.
His groan settled deep inside her, as tantalizing as any physical contact. He met her gaze. “Antonio’s the only other person left in the building.”
That made her hesitate. Why? Because they used him in their fantasy, Saturday night?
Because she cared what Antonio thought of her. “That’s still one person who could interrupt.”