I nod, too stunned by the desire in his eyes to speak. When we hold gazes for far longer than is necessary, I blink hard and look away.
“Good. HR will fax them to you. If there are any questions whatsoever, you know where to find me, Beth.”
His voice! God, that voice...
“Yes.” I finally summon my voice enough to mutter softly.
“My assistant and I were just rounding up,” Mitch casually states as he straightens up, the move bringing him even closer to me.
“I thought he went home for the day?”
“Sam only goes when I say he does. I'm assuming you'll need a ride?”
I nod. I know he means a car ride, but an insistent throbbing between my legs makes me think of other rides he could give me as well. Of course, Mitch is better off not knowing that.
I don't realize that I have slightly parted my legs until Mitch gives a little growl and bends over my chair, eyes throwing off sparks. But when our eyes meet, I see him gesturing at the little post-it note on my desk where Mateo had asked me for drinks.
“Mateo, huh?”
“What?” My brows are furrowed in confusion.
“Good thing we are getting this cleared tomorrow. I'd advise you to read over the rules of the company before scampering off for drinks with—"
“I didn't agree to drinks with Mateo!” I tell him as he pushes away from the desk, fingers combing through his brown locks. I get up and move toward him, which is pretty much a wrong move because he stalks toward me, not stopping until my retracing steps have me pressed against the glass wall of my office.
My heart stutters at the emotions that swirl in his eyes. Frustration. Jealousy. Lust.
“I don't want you going out for drinks with Mateo or flirting with him or anyone else.” His voice is hypnotizing, and I find myself nodding. I'd walk on hot coals if he asked it of me with that look in his eyes. But then his obvious anger at Mateo's little post-it causes a light bulb to go off in my head.
Is Mitch jealous?
Feeling the sudden urge to bait him, I say, “There's nothing wrong with going out for drinks with Mateo. It's not like he's married.”
Mitch, looking unamused, lets out a sigh of frustration. Managing to control himself, he says in a deadly voice instead.
“Really?”
“Yes. Why wouldn't I? Unless you're jealous?”
“Jealous?” he scoffs, but instead of moving away as I'm afraid he will, he plants his hands against the wall on either side of me.
“I would never be jealous of a little boy who is playing a man’s game.”
A dream I'd had for years suddenly becomes a reality when his lips capture mine in a near bruising kiss. Blood roars in my ears at the way Mitch kisses me with dominance. I can sense his passion in the way he possessively wraps his arms around my waist and continue to plunder my lips. Ensuring that my body is tight against his and that I feel the beginnings of his arousal as his now hardened length presses against my stomach.
I moan when Mitch forces my head back, teeth nipping against the skin of my neck almost hard enough to leave bruises and soothing the tender flesh with kisses. The stinging kisses, even though Mitch means it as some sort of punishment, cause bolts of arousal to shoot straight to my core. I whimper when his lips return to mine, kissing him back with a ferocity that causes Mitch to pick me up easily, allowing me to wrap my legs around his lean waist as he backs me against the wall once more, his cock pressed perfectly between my legs.
“Oh, Mitch, please...” I beg, canting my hips forward and shuddering when his hard cock brushes against the inner skin of my thigh. “Mitch, please...”
“What do you want?”
His desire-roughened voice only spurs my own arousal.
“Tell me what you want,” commanding again, with his fingers slipping between my blouse, brushing against the cups of my breasts. I moan, head falling with a thud against the glass wall.
“Mitch, oh, Mitch,” I pant the moment he expertly flicks my nipples through my lacy bra, causing the flesh to pucker, straining towards his deft fingers.
I'm not sure why my legs are suddenly on the ground, and Mitch is moving quickly toward the door until I hear Sam's voice. Fortunately, my chair is close enough that I can move on wobbly legs to it, hoping Sam will attribute my flushed face to fatigue. There's muted conversation in the hallway, and a moment later, Sam hurries past my office without looking in.