Inevitably Love. (Complicated #2)

Chapter 3

Three

M y, my, my. How private business differs from the non-profit sector …

Keeping my head and shoulders straight, my eyes licked every corner of the view before me. The waiting area of the operations suite at KAHRI Resort in Atlantic City, New Jersey was a vibe off the set of The Young & The Restless from back in the day. I remembered my era of visiting Newman Enterprises from the carpeted floor of my babysitter’s home back in the early two-thousands. The stern greens, sophisticated burgundies, and intimidating gold trimmings. Rich, dark hardwood flooring beneath runners boasting intricate designs. The lush, green shrubbery in the corners and planted on the counters of the reception desks were real, not artificial décor.

This shit was nice. Intimidating but impressive at the same damn time. How much of Azmir’s genius went into designing this space? Ishaan’s? Or did they hire a designer and were simply happy with the results. Nah . Someone had to approve this. It truly made a statement. I was also curious as to how many guests the office of operations at KAHRI Resort had daily. I’d been sitting here for close to ten minutes listening to one ginger head receptionist answer the phone, “Hello. KAHRI ’s office of operations. How may I help you?” while the other, taking less calls, would recite her greeting as, “The office of Ishaan Patterson. How can I assist you today?”

Ishaan Patterson …

My hands went to my belly. Would my child’s last name be Patterson? I’d prefer Washington. But why? When I was a kid, I hated that my mom didn’t give me “his” last name, which was James. I had nothing to tether me to my alleged birthright. Washington meant nothing to me until I saw it on my degrees and certificates. I’d rebranded Washington to fit my accomplishments. So, naming my child Washington would have greater meaning and significance. I could stand on that. I glanced around to the intriguing art on the wall and could feel myself shrinking. Apparently, Ishaan’s legacy had weighty significance, too. It didn’t matter that he’d dropped out of school. This place was made of and operated from wealth a degree couldn’t curate.

“Ms. Washington.” That call cut my reverie. I lifted my chin, acknowledging her. “Someone will be with you momentarily.”

Warily, I nodded my response. This was weird. Rayna had worked through Azmir’s office to get me this “appointment.” Why would I see “someone” other than Ishaan?

My phone vibrated on my lap. Sundryia was texting me pictures of the kids. Isam and Imani were sporting Kings onesies looking so damn adorable.

Sundryia: I bought a few for their cousin when they get here in November.

Awwwww …

Me: So cute! Isam better start catching up with his sister in weight before she becomes the next linebacker and he’s left being the water boy. Thanks for thinking about my widdle nugget.

Heavy footsteps stole my attention. Coming down the hall I assumed led to Ishaan’s office, that woman appeared—the zoftig woman who worked with him. For him. She squinted my way while approaching one of the women at the front desk. She murmured something to which the ginger head shrugged. Then she approached me.

“Ms. Washington?”

I snapped my fingers. “Damn. Funny how I can never remember your name.”

She blinked. “Munchie. But I suspect you won’t remember the next time we meet either.”

I smiled. “Will we meet again?”

She paid a gander to my midsection. “I have a feeling we will, Ms. Washington. Either way, I wasn’t aware of you meeting Mr. Patterson today.”

“Neither is he.”

Her eyes closed behind her smart frames. “Yes. I know because, according to his schedule, he’s having lunch at this hour. Then he has a meeting regarding our clinics.”

“Exactly.”

Munchie shook her head. “No. I don’t think you understand, Ms. Washington.” She glanced down at a tablet she’d been holding and scoffed, “Unless your name is Janie?—”

“Doherty.” My smile broadened. “Janie Doherty, here to speak with Mr. Patterson about strengthening the services of the adult health care clinics at both KAHRI and HAYDAR .” I stood and grabbed my belly. “Because clearly…” I cupped the bottom to expose my bump. “I have knowledge and personal experience at both resorts.”

“Jane Doherty,” she whispered to herself while closing her eyes again and exhaling deeply. Munchie then cleared her throat. “Right this way, Ms. Washington.”

Okay. This was when the anxiety I’d been able to manage since arriving here after my meeting with Cooper University Hospital kicked in. With each step I incurred behind her generous rump, my heart went from Afib-level nervousness to ventricular fibrillation. By the time we traveled the lingering corridor, my body trembled as did my feet in four-inch heels. Of course, we stopped at French doors. Of course, there would be a brass plate mounted on the wall with his name and credentials.

Ishaan D. Patterson: Chief Operating Officer

I was sick as she opened one of the doors and led me inside the expansive…space. This was more than an office. It was a damn studio with panoramic views of the ocean from two of the four walls of the room. His desk was near the floor-to-ceiling window directly across from the entrance. The enclosure to the left of that was another floor-to-ceiling window boasting the roiling waves of the Atlantic Ocean.

To the right of the entrance was a lounge area. Bold, vintage, brown leather sofas were positioned complimentarily with a coffee table, which was a ginormous carved rock with a smooth tabletop. In the vicinity was a minibar. And before I could formulate the question in my head, I located the dweller of this space.

Initially, I had to identify him between the two men standing over the table where Ishaan was seated. They were…serving him food. I was able to gather when one shifted away from Ishaan after pouring what looked like water from a metal pitcher with a white cloth wrapped around the handle. The baby kicked. Then it kicked again. The bold and constant activity had me cupping my pouch.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Patterson,” Munchie announced, regret laced in her tone. “There’s been a breach in your scheduling.” She moved aside so I could be in clear view of her boss as she explained. Unabashed, Ishaan’s inspection roved over me from head to toe. Though seated at the table, I could make out his business attire of a full suit, white dress shirt and a tie, covered mostly by a white cloth napkin. Munchie’s boss was preparing to dine. “I got a call from Renee out front about your next appointment, finding it strange because you’re clearly on lunch, followed by your meeting with a Janie Doherty.”

Instantly, Ishaan’s face relaxed, eyes went lax before tightening into a smirk. “Come again?”

“Janie Doherty, sir,” Munchie repeated, sounding so defeated.

Ishaan glanced down at the table where his lunch was still being loaded and revealed. “And what is the nature of that meeting?”

Munchie cleared her throat again before glancing down at her tablet. “Strengthening the services of the adult health care clinics at both KAHRI and HAYDAR , sir.”

Ishaan’s hard yet silent scoff had his eyes closing momentarily. My hand flew to my face to catch my laughter. Thankfully, I was successful. This wasn’t supposed to be that. I didn’t mean to cause confusion at his workplace. Honestly, I didn’t know what Rayna told one of Azmir’s assistants to covertly get me an appointment with Ishaan, but I did suggest that topic. Without her help, I would have had to camp out on the streets of Alpine and wait for him to come home. The problem with that was Ishaan had more than one residence. I could be staking out for days. This had been my best option. Luckily for me, my cousin entertained my pitiful ass.

Without a reply to Munchie or the benefit of his eyes on me, Ishaan pointed across the room. “Hayden, join me for lunch. There’s a bathroom over there for you to wash your hands.” His tone was so authoritative and practiced.

I was stunned into place. Rounding me was a flustered Munchie leaving the office. I could feel her agitation as she passed me. I watched her saunter down the corridor we’d just entered from and close the door. When my attention returned ahead, the Hispanic-appearing waiter standing over Ishaan at the table was now erect with his hand at the pelvis line and chin in the air. After a few beats, Ishaan gazed my way then lifted his brows, messaging his impatience.

My body trembled with nervous energy. “I won’t have you telling people I freeloaded off your private lunch.” It was a joke. One not landing the right way. “I can wait until you’re done.”

“You’re expecting. You don’t wait for food to be eaten. You’re the eater of the food. Now, come on, please, before it gets cold.”

Anxious, I leaped to move then remembered my agenda. “I came with gifts. You’re ruining my well-thought-out design.”

He scoffed, “I’m sure we can resume your scheme after I fill your belly. C’mon.” He gestured toward the bathroom again. In rare obedience, I proceeded toward the alleged bathroom then abruptly halted my steps. My face swung up from the floor back to him. “No pun intended.” That addendum from Ishaan fortified me enough to continue my walk of defeat.

“Lemon couscous,” the waiter explained while topping my plate, which was more like a pasta bowl. “Halibut sauteed in butter, garlic, and fresh thyme.” His expression was stoic to say he had such a young appearance. “And finally, herbed pear sauce.” He poured a thick tannish sauce over the greens atop the fish and then around the couscous. “Enjoy.”

After thanking him in a coy whisper, I glanced over to Ishaan who’d began digging into his food. After a few seconds of chewing, he acknowledged the awaiting server and nodded.

“Give Chef Laurent my unreserved compliments.”

“I will, Mr. Patterson. Is there anything more I can do for you and your guest?” The waiter kept his eyes on Ishaan while awaiting an answer.

“That’ll be all, Enrique and Luis. Thanks.”

After a nod, the waiters left the office. Ishaan returned to his food, and after a few beats of awkward silence, I picked up my fork to dig in.

Ishaan was right. My stomach growled the moment I brought the first forkful to my mouth. Beginning with the couscous and a dab of the sauce, my tongue somersaulted. Quickly, I went back in for the fish, and it was?—

“Oh, my fawkin’ god…” spilled from my lungs too damn loud.

Shit .

When I fortified myself enough to look across the table at Ishaan, I caught him facing his plate, cheeks high from that view. He had to have heard my slip. Thankfully, there was a long stretch of silence as we tended to our plates. The food was good as hell, making me wonder if he ate this well regularly. And in his office .

The ocean view was trancing and had provided succor during this arduous time between Ishaan and me. However, even while having my culinary receptors seduced, I knew it was time for us to have “the conversation.” But it would have to be delayed. The pear sauce paired with the fish and the couscous commanded my priority at the moment.

“Prostitutes solicit,” his voice was honeyed and distrusting.

I was confused, and by this time, had lost track of how long we’d been eating. “Come again?”

Ishaan finally paid me a gander while laying his fork next to the plate. “Sex workers. When they engage you, they hit you with the upsell. They offer add-ons like videos, more girls, toys…nasty, emasculating shit. Shit like that.” When I blinked, dumbfounded, he explained, “I suspected you weren’t a prostitute, but by the time we made it to my suite, I was stronger in my decision.”

Guilt washed over me. “Why are we discussing this today? Aren’t we beyond that?”

“Because I need for you to understand how, no matter what happened two weeks ago in the restaurant, I can be rational. How accepting I was of your original lie.”

“I didn’t lie,” I charged back defensively. “I played along with your assumption.”

He scoffed, glancing away momentarily, exposing a wing of the eagle tatted on his sandpaper-hued neck. Damn. Ishaan was an alluring man. His features fucking disarmed me time and time again. It could have been because it had been over two weeks since I’d last seen him, but my goodness. The man looked the fuck good.

“My point is, I wasn’t a maniacal bastard when I discovered the truth about you. I accepted it and adjusted.”

I shook my head. “No. You fucked me, and then you fucked me again, here, wanting to extend the ruse I’d left back in Vegas. But I’m glad you’re admitting to the maniac portion of your persona, because my orientation was rather traumatic.”

Ishaan scoffed, brows hiked, “Traumatic?”

Annoyed so soon into the conversation, I forced my attention back down to my plate to find it empty.

Shit .

How long had I been eating? I wanted more but wouldn’t dare ask. He wouldn’t be telling people about my piggish behavior either.

I began rubbing my temples. “This is so not going the way I’d planned it.”

“What was your plan? To apologize for two weeks ago, and then to disarm me with your gifts?”

Gifts.

Yes!

I turned my attention to him. “Yeah, but in mere seconds, you’ve reminded me how much of that day was not my fault. I was simply having lunch with a family friend. Then you show up and bully him violently. You know I’ve been trying to call Kenny since and haven’t gotten him? I truly don’t know my upside from my down anymore. I haven’t been able to process this web I’ve apparently weaved by playing along with you that one whimsical night back in February.”

“But you’re here. Atlantic City is a long drive from Manhattan.”

“I had work down here.” I rolled my eyes, inhaling deeply. “Figured I’d kill two birds with one stone.”

“So, I’ve been reduced to a bird?”

With closed eyes, I chirped to correct myself, “I knew this had to be done. The clock was ticking.”

Agitation thickened in my blood. Ishaan was pushing it. I owed him nothing but humanity for the kindness he’d shown all summer. I’d relented to too many privacy and distance preferences for him. My personal boundaries had been tampered with too much.

Ishaan removed the cloth napkin tucked at his collar. “Come here, Hayden.” He pointed to the chair closest to him, appearing no different than a Latin King in business attire. “Let’s see what you brought me today.”

“You know, your mother said you may be impatient, controlling, and distrusting, but you’re also kind, reasonable, and graceful.”

“Yeah,” Ishaan murmured. “Dr. Patterson gave me an assessment of you, too. Don’t always believe the hype.” He motioned for me to come closer again, and I struggled with wanting to leave South Jersey completely.

Nonetheless, I participated, retrieving the small, glossy silver gift bag I was able to grab at a dollar store whose products were all over a dollar. I took the seat next to him, immediately regretting it when I wafted in his masculine scent. Without eye contact, I placed the bag on the table near him. Ishaan didn’t bite. Gracefully, he pulled the bag closer then eventually pulled out the tissue paper. Next, he selected the intended first gift.

I watched him unravel the cotton material until it unfolded to a reveal. Ishaan peered my way with an expression of shock. “What the hell is this?” he murmured.

“A pair of old-fashioned men’s underwear with buttons.”

“And what exactly am I supposed to do with these?”

“They’re loose.” I lifted one shoulder in a shrug as I studied them being held in the air by a grumpy Ishaan. “Not get your undies in a bunch next time.” I scrunched my nose.

Dropping his hands, Ishaan pinched his nose as he tittered in silence. “The fuck?” Regaining himself, he returned to the bag and pulled out a graphic t-shirt he had to unfold as well. After a quick read of the front, his head swung to face me, brows knitted. “You opened the paternity results email?” I shook my head. His attention went back to the t-shirt before he turned it so I could see.

I’m the man responsible for her swollen belly.

The script was surrounded by two thumbs pointing inward, in other words, to the man wearing the shirt.

As he glowered at me, likely confused by my gesture once again, I shrugged placidly. “Dr. Patterson suggested I include something like that. I thought she shared the results with you.” Feeling awkward, I shifted in the chair, crossing my legs away from him before clearing my throat. I was slightly embarrassed. “So, you haven’t asked her for the results?”

Ishaan shook his head, empty eyes piercing me. “What’s this game you’re playing?”

“How am I playing a game?”

“You have access to the paternity results.”

“And so do you.”

His eyes squinted with incredulity. “You’re in your twenty-eighth week. Don’t you want to know who the father of your child is?”

That question, to me, meant Ishaan believed I had reason to wonder. It meant he thought I was promiscuous to the degree of not knowing, without an ounce of clarity, who I’d conceived with. That was fucking insulting. So much for him believing I was no sex worker.

I shifted back toward him, placed my elbow on the table, and reminded him, “I’m not on the market for a father for my child. Having a parenting partner is of no desire to me. I thought we’ve gone over that. You made it clear at your first doctor’s visit with me how you would want to know the paternity of a potential child of yours. You have the same access to that knowledge as I do yet you refuse to pull the trigger. How, Sway? Now, finish with the bag.” Then I thought. “Please.”

With a fixed glower on me, Ishaan took a few seconds before obeying. He dug back into the gift bag and brought out two rather large, red, heart-shaped lollipops. When he recognized one had white script on it, he turned over the other to read. Ishaan, again, turned them so I could see.

You . I .

When I motioned toward the gift bag with my head, he returned to it and pulled out the final heart-shaped lollipop. Ishaan waited another spell before collecting the candy by the sticks and arranging them in order in the air for me to see.

Aloud, I read, “I miss you? then gasped. “ You miss…” My hand went to my chest, expressing shock. “… moi ? All you’ve had to do was just pick up a?—”

My words were cut by Ishaan’s lengthy frame growing over me by the millisecond. The swift act called on my defense mechanisms, and I lifted my hands to protect my face. His hands were even quicker as they cupped me at the back of my head rather roughly. I felt the warm sliver of flesh over my lips. The first stroke of his tongue against mine reverberated in my clit. It moved fast, swiping greedily with wild abandon. No taste or scent of fish could be detected but a hint of pear was present, tickling my senses. His breaths were cool and harsh at the same time. This was anything but the kisses I’d received from this man in the past. This oral embrace was riddled with a vengeance. A passion, weakening me.

My lifeless arms collapsed, causing the left to brush against his erection as he leaned over me. Fuck, I was boneless, breathless. I was vulnerable. It was obvious Ishaan needed this kiss more than I wanted it. However, it was also clear I’d allow him access to my body at his demand, and that was my shameful truth.

Sweet notes of Piero Piccioni’s Easy Lovers played the backdrop as my breath was stolen and heart thundered under his aggressive touch. How easy I’d been for this man would make me question my chastity, too. Our chemistry didn’t require a warm-up. Ishaan was a magnetic catastrophe for my soul. Look how I sought him out to apologize when I’d normally take the opportunity to run like hell from a man. They were all untrustworthy—at least the ones I attracted. But this guy. This man?—

Ishaan’s mouth withdrew. His flesh was gone but scented heat remained. My eyes fluttered open, and he peered down on me with those thick-knitted brows meeting and flared nostrils. That’s when I heard it.

“Mr. Patterson?” sounded off remotely.

Straightening slightly after releasing my head and face, Ishaan gruffed, “Yeah!”

His head pivoted slightly to acknowledge the space behind him, but I saw no one. “I’m sorry to disturb your lunch,” a woman pled, “…but D’Angelo from Flare is on line three. He says you’d want him pushed through.”

Closing his eyes as though riddled with pain, Ishaan mumbled a string of expletives. Then his tight eyes were on me. “Push him through, Katie.” Ishaan sauntered off to his desk, which seemed a room away in this mammoth space. He grabbed the phone from the base. “D’Angelo.” I watched him listen intently. “Yeah.”

With his palm clasping his waist, Ishaan listened. I observed his attention going over my head. When I turned, I found the waiters making their way back into the office.

“Was everything to your satisfaction?” the Hispanic one asked.

Blinking successively, I tried gathering my bearings. “Yes,” I whispered, shaking my head. “ Umm … Yes! It was very delicious. Thanks!”

I watched as his eyes, too, cast beyond me. He nodded with elevated brows of inquiry. That’s when I turned back to find Ishaan issue the ‘thumbs up.’ Seeing the other gentleman begin clearing the table, I stood and grabbed the contents of Ishaan’s gift bag and my purse. Feeling awkward, I clutched everything to my sides and waited for what I didn’t know. Then, I noticed Ishaan nearing me, the long chord of the desk phone extending. He retrieved the bag and my purse, laying them on the sofa with the handpiece still clutched to his ear. He used his hand to offer me a seat. Ishaan didn’t want me to leave. Pitifully, I obeyed, taking a seat. Then I watched some more. The waiters cleared the table in quick time, wiping it down and, I assumed, restoring the tabletop décor. After they left the office, I waited some more.

From what I could make out of Ishaan’s contribution to the conversation, he was discussing equipment with mentions of security wands, hidden metal detector frames, and even imaging scanners. What type of work did Ishaan do exactly? I pondered that question as I left the leather sofa and strolled over to his desk. Feeling ornery, I sat in the center, on the ledge of it, facing the ocean.

This was the other side. This view or employment opportunity wasn’t normal. This level was reserved for directors of entertainment. Who else would pay out money to have a role necessary like this? It was reserved for great thinkers over the masses, not worker bees like me.

“Alright, D’Angelo. We’re good.” Ishaan’s inflection cue of ending the call captured my attention. “Yup.” He brought the handset back to the base.

After a long exhale, Ishaan gazed at me. Those dark irises between curly lashes were starkly gorgeous. The muscles around his eyes softened with vulnerability. He was communicating something my stubborn, hardened soul refused to convey. His persistence terrified me.

My lips moved before I could settle on the words, “ Who — Wa —I mean…” I swallowed. “How does one qualify to be the chief operations officer, especially without a degree?”

“Lots of COOs are without degrees. The same with CEOs.”

As stoic in expression as he was, I noted, “You never answered my question. How did you get this role with Azmir?”

“He asked me to apply for it.” Ishaan shrugged.

“You were invited to be interviewed? That’s really rich.”

“A.D. wanted me. He just wanted me to earn it.”

“So, you earned it by interviewing?”

Ishaan drew closer to me with a leopard’s pursuit pace. “I earned it by applying for it.” His head fell to the side as he peered me directly in the eyes. “I’m going away for about a week. Come with me.”

I blinked before a smirk, begging his pardon, tightened my face. I scoffed, “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” His big, warm hand was placed possessively over my thigh.

Baffled, I scoffed again, “Work!” My attention shifted ahead to the roiling sea. “I don’t share your lifestyle. I’m on the clock as we speak. My entire program is in crisis right now, and I’m here with you, eating halibut and other shit I can’t pronounce with an ocean view. Yeah. Hopefully I’m able to set things straight with you, but this was made possible because of the two proposal meetings I had this morning.”

“What do you mean proposal?”

“I’m asking corporations for money.” I leaned back on the desk with one arm and rubbed my busy pouch with the other hand. “I’ve been in South Jersey begging, chile.” I glanced down after a kick. “Somebody’s awake.”

“May I?” His palm held in the air near my midsection.

I nodded my consent then watched his hand rove over my belly with delicate reverence.

“Here.” I moved his hand to where the action was. “You don’t have to be so soft with the pressure. This baby is anything but.”

Ishaan took his time feeling the kicks and other movements. Shamefully, the heat of his touch affected me. I closed my eyes, trying to mentally distract myself, allowing him his moment.

“I love this,” he whispered, face tight.

“I don’t.”

Ishaan froze. “Why?”

“Because I’m an expectant mother and your innocuous, exploratory touch is making me horny.” I laughed dryly. “I’m fucking this up already.” I was embarrassed.

Ishaan’s hands returned to me then he pivoted his hips so his intimidating erection could brush against my knee.

Shit …

“What does that make me?” he asked gently. My lips parted in delicious wonderment as I studied his warm sandpaper-hued face. His full lips, long and narrowed nose, and neat ducktail-style beard. I liked It all. “I was turned on the moment I registered your presence wearing this dress. You’re so incredibly beautiful.”

I was wearing the polka dot, baby doll dress he picked for me in Neiman Marcus last month.

Breathlessly, I returned, “And so are you.”

His left hand traced down my belly to find the hem of my dress. He reached beneath the silken material for the bed of my crotch. Within seconds, one finger then two slipped beneath. My folds . I was so wet and tender, it was shameful. The reveal had me straining to sit up. Ishaan’s solid body between my legs didn’t leave much room for an adjustment. We were belly to belly when my fingers reached his bristled beard. He leaned into me.

His soft lips brushed over mine and I whispered, “You got a pregnancy fetish or something.”

Ishaan’s head shook faintly before he whispered back, “Apparently, I’ve got a Hayden fetish. Can’t seem to keep my hands off and dick out of you.”

My eyes rolled to the back of my head, so taken by his words and talented fingers. And it was stupid of me because, of course, he was lying. Ishaan was good at it—really good—and just as clever in coquetry as were his fingers. However, in this moment, I was so needy. So damn feverish for him, I’d allow the lie.

His finger rubbed against my throbbing clit. The sensation controlled my spine, causing me to grip his shoulders.

“Ishaan,” I whispered with a spinning head. “I’m going to cum.”

“You don’t want to?” I shook my head, eyes closed partly from shame and the other ecstasy. “Why?”

“Beca ussssse ,” I moaned before licking my lips. “…with you…I tend to get a little messy.”

“Messy?”

“Your pantry…”

“Oh.” A low rumble left his chest. It was so damn sexy. Ishaan laughing at my expense in this instance was stimulator. “You’re a squirter. It doesn’t always have to be that extreme.”

I shook my head again, feeling the muscles of my abdomen contract against his ministrations. “I’m not a squirt—,” I panted with closed eyes. “I’m not a squirter.”

“But you make a mess?”

“With you.” Only you .

Ishaan’s voice was slightly louder when he declared, “Hayden, I’m fuckin’ you right here and right now. On this desk. If you don’t want an orgasm, I’ll respect that. But I’m about to.”

“Ishaan!” I cried out in a whisper.

It was fruitless. Within seconds, he was peeling my thong down my thighs and legs. My whole body was atwitter with anticipation when he began unfastening then unzipping dress pants.

“We can’t do this here,” I whispered into his neck.

Ishaan whispered back, “Why?”

“Because we’ll get caught…like we did…with Meh kiiiii …” His finger was back to rubbing my bulb, rendering me inarticulate.

“Lean back. This will be quicker.”

My mind raced with fear of someone walking in. Voyeurism had never been my thing. Was Azmir in town? The last thing I needed was my cousin’s husband seeing my whoredom live and in action on one of his properties.

The minute Ishaan’s wide crest met my sobbing opening, each thought of paranoia was annihilated. The pleasured pressure created by his first two thrusts were something to write home about.

“Sh iiiit ,” he cried so helplessly, it was delivered like a purr. “You feel so fuckin’ amazing, Boo-baby.”

Now, leaned back on my palms, taking up more space on his enormous desk, my eyes were closed in torture. The pressure created from his breaching was so damn delicious. I could feel myself lubricating more and more from the heaviness of his thrusts. The reminder of the power in Ishaan’s hips kept me from relaxing. I’d explode if I gave into his artful strokes. I couldn’t orgasm. No . Not here.

“Mr. Patterson,” blurted from somewhere on the desk. I clamped my thighs around Ishaan, eyes bursting wild and wide. “Ms. Williams is on hold for you on line two.”

Ishaan’s head rolled lazily then his eyes did the same toward the back of his head. His chest caved, further expressing his frustration.

My panic returned. “Ishaan,” I panted breathless, unlike him.

His lengthy torso leaned over me, spine bowing over my protruding mid-section, and he kissed me. This kiss was different from the one earlier. It was slow, deep, and needy. Ishaan’s tongue pushed to the back of my mouth, mimicking his strokes below several times before wrapping around mine. It was intrusive, feeling like he wanted to invade my full being.

Ishaan pulled back, eyes tight from passion and he glared down on me. “I can feel you squeeze around me. It’s what you do before you explode. You sure you don’t want to cum?”

“Mr. Patterson? Ms. Williams is still holding,” the woman delivered through the speakerphone.

“Ishaan,” I whispered hard.

“She’ll wait.” His cool breath hit my lips, causing my eyes to close as he stroked deeply. “Do you want to cum with me?” Filled with Ishaan, pleasure, and anxiety, I shook my head petulantly. Once again, I closed my eyes, now feeling immature. “Suck my tongue,” he ordered, returning to my mouth without sparing me a second to consider it.

Shit …

This man was so nasty. When he pushed his tongue into my mouth, I did as he requested and sucked. Ishaan’s eyes closed and his expression relented in ecstasy. The act was so erotic— so lewd —I moaned soon into it. When I opened them again, Ishaan, maintaining the same pace, was still gazing down at me intensely. Just when I thought I’d have to endure faster, harder thrusts to get him off, Ishaan’s hips slowed, rounding to torture my core from a new angle.

My sex imploded so unexpectantly, my eyes squeezed close. I was able to rock against him with my palms still anchoring me on the desk between Ishaan’s arms. My sucking on his tongue didn’t stop even while my orgasm rolled warmly over me. It intensified the blissful surge rolling over and over. This implosion rang loudly in my head, filling my ears. The damn thing stole my breath for seconds long. No sooner than I was able to open my eyes, I caught Ishaan’s glazing over. His face was tight as he took just four more deep plunges into me before giving way to his own climactic ending. I let go of his tongue when I realized he needed to breathe in more air.

Ishaan’s eyes opened as his body was still spasming over me. He peered deep into my eyes. I believed he wanted me to see him completely in this vulnerable state, too. For seconds long, we said nothing, only breathing and coexisting in a moment where nothing mattered but the thing between us.

“Stay the night with me,” he husked.

I blinked, completely muddled. Then the baby moved, prompting me to sit up. That forced Ishaan upright.

“Mr. Patterson?—”

Ishaan curled to the side and snatched the handpiece from its base. “Tell her I’ll give her a call back.” He gave a quick nod. “Okay.” He hung up the phone. His attention was back on me intently. “Please.”

With closed eyes, my brows hiked as I shook off my stupor to express his delusion. “I’m sorry. Did I not come down here to clear the air between us from what happened to my friend the last time you and I were in the same room? We’ve gotten no closure?—”

“We have.”

“No.” I shook my head again. “No, Ishaan, we have not. We mustered through a surprising yet awkward act of me showing up to your job. You fed the pregnant woman. I gave you cute gifts to break the ice?—”

“They did.”

“Then you fucked me on your desk.”

“I think we should categorize that as something more meaningful than fuckin’.”

Then it hit me hard, and I cupped my face. “We didn’t use a condom. Again!”

Fuck!

Ishaan lifted my head by the chin with his index finger. “Hey. Hey! ” his second call less patient. “We’re beyond that now. I seriously doubt you’ve been having sex with other people since your last testing period.”

Dr. Damn Brown!

I had her share my recent STI testing history with him.

“That’s beside the point. My whole character is unknown to you. You met me posing as a prostitute. I’m now pregnant, and you don’t know the paternity of my baby. Besides, I may not have had sex in two weeks, but it doesn’t mean you haven’t.”

Ishaan didn’t speak right away. Once again, he stared at me, the muscles around his eyes soft. This must have been the man’s tender side. It didn’t ease my reservations. I shot him daggers, and he received them all. Then he leaned forward and kissed me gently. Ishaan pulled his pants up on his waist and fastened just the clasp.

“Let’s get washed up.” He pulled me forward from the desk and took me at the back and beneath my kneecaps to carry me across the office like a bride.