Chapter 15 #3
His mouth crashes onto mine. Not a kiss.
Consuming.
Our tongues tangle.
Our teeth clash.
His mouth steals my moans as he fucks them down my throat.
His pace turns brutal, erasing all thought.
All I know is the slam of his body, and the coil in my pussy, winding tighter, tighter—
Too much—
Can’t—
Gonna break—
“Cum.” His lips burn against mine in a growled order. “One more. For me.”
My body obeys.
My cunt clamps around his cock, milking him hard.
My toes curl again, and my back arching off the desk.
A silent scream rips through me as the pleasure detonates.
I pulse around him, repeatedly convulsing.
Mine—
Corin—
FUCK—
FUCK—
FUCK—
“AMARA!” He roars my name, his hips stuttering.
I feel the rhythmic jerking of him inside me as he spills into the condom. My cunt continues to spasm around him, milking him.
His forehead slams against mine, and he rasps. “Amara...”
We collapse against each other, trembling, our foreheads pressed together.
The air reeks of sex, sweat, us.
The fluorescent lights glare overhead, but all I see is him.
Mine.
Ruined.
We stay like that for a moment, breathing hard.
Then reality returns
We’re in the island clinic back office. It’s past ten PM. We just had exceptionally loud sex on a steel desk.
Professional boundaries?
Never heard of ‘em.
Corin pulls out carefully, disposes of the condom in the small trash bin near the desk, then helps me down. My legs are shaky.
He steadies me with one hand while smoothing my skirt down with the other.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
I nod, not quite trusting my voice yet.
He gently tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “That was—”
“Yeah,” I interrupt, because I’m not ready to hear whatever he’s about to say. Not yet. “It was.”
We clean up in silence. I find my underwear on the floor behind the desk. He zips up his pants. We look almost presentable.
Almost.
My hair is definitely sex-hair.
I glance at him.
His jaw is tight with tension that has nothing to do with desire now.
I should leave. Go back to my villa, take a long shower, pretend this was just physical release and nothing more.
But instead I hear myself ask, “What now?”
He studies me uncertainly. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, what about professional boundaries? We just completely obliterated them. Again. Are we going to pretend this didn’t happen? Go back to careful distance tomorrow morning?”
Corin is quiet for a long moment. Then he crosses the small space between us, cups my face in both hands.
“The only boundary,” he says, his voice low and fierce, “is that you share my bed each night. I don’t care anymore about the rest. You’re mine.”
My heart does this fluttery thing.
“Good,” I whisper.
He kisses me. Soft this time. Tender in a way that makes my throat tight.
When we break apart, I add, “But I’m still worried this is going to come back to bite us somehow.”
“It might,” he admits. “Xavier is still out there. The foundation situation is still unresolved. There are about forty ways this could blow up in our faces.”
“So comforting.”
His mouth quirks. Almost a smile. “But I’m done pretending I can protect you by keeping you at arm’s length. If this is going to blow up, we face it together.”
He’s echoing the words I told him before our last argument. The words that sent us spiraling apart.
“Do you mean it for real this time?” I ask.
“I do.”
“Okay,” I say. “Together. And... what happens when the pilot extension expires?”
“Then I renew,” he says. “Indefinitely.”
I purse my lips. “Until we work out something better, at some point.”
“Agreed.”
We gather our things, I grab my legal pad and tote. Corin unlocks the door, and we step out into the main clinic area. It’s dark except for the security lights Marisol leaves on overnight.
Through the window, I see headlights in the parking lot.
Keon, probably, waiting to drive Corin back.
My rental car is parked on the other side of the lot.
I should go to my own villa. Sleep in my own bed.
Maintain some semblance of professional boundaries, even if we just shredded them on his desk.
Corin’s hand finds mine as we walk to the door.
I don’t pull away.
When we step outside, he doesn’t head toward the SUV. Instead, he stops, turning to face me.
“Come home with me,” he says quietly.
My heart skips a beat. “Corin—”
“You agreed to share my bed.” His thumb traces across my knuckles. “Might as well start tonight.”
I should say no. Should climb into my rental car and drive to my perfectly nice guest villa and process what just happened with some distance and perspective.
But then I look at him and see the vulnerability in his expression.
“Okay,” I hear myself say.
His shoulders relax, like he’d been bracing for rejection.
When we reach the SUV, Keon is standing by the driver’s side, professional as always. If he notices our flushed faces or rumpled clothing, he doesn’t comment.
He just opens the back door for us.
The drive back to resort is quiet. Corin’s thumb traces circles on my palm. I watch the dark ocean blur past the window and try to process what just happened.
You just had incredibly hot sex with Corin. Your employer.
Again.
And now you’re going home with him instead of maintaining any shred of independence.
Great life choices.
Really stellar.
But beneath the sarcasm, there’s something else.
Hope.