Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Kristen
The edge of Nico's desk bites into my thighs, but I don't care. Can't care. Not when his hands grip my hips.
"Nico." His name comes out broken, desperate.
He doesn't respond with words. Just drives deeper, harder, and my back arches off the scattered papers beneath me. Something crashes to the floor—a pen holder, maybe—but neither of us stops to check.
This wasn't supposed to happen. I came to his office to bring him coffee. Coffee. Like a normal person who definitely wasn't thinking about what happened last night, or the night before, or the way he said "forever" like it was a threat and a promise wrapped in one word.
But then he looked at me. That dark, consuming stare that sees everything I try to hide.
And now I'm spread across his desk like I belong here.
"Look at me." His voice is rough gravel. A command, not a request.
My eyes fly open. I didn't realize I'd closed them.
Nico hovers above me, forearms braced on either side of my head. His jaw is tight, a muscle ticking beneath the stubble he didn't bother shaving this morning. Sweat gleams on his chest. He's still wearing his dress shirt, but it's unbuttoned, hanging open to reveal the hard planes of his stomach.
I'm wearing nothing at all.
"There she is." His hips roll slowly, and I gasp. "Stay with me."
"I'm right here." My voice doesn't sound like mine. Too breathless. Too needy.
"Good." He pulls almost all the way out, pauses, then slams back in.
Oh God.
My nails dig into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks. He doesn't flinch. Just watches my face like he's memorizing every reaction, cataloging every sound I make.
It's terrifying. It's intoxicating.
It's Nico.
"You're thinking too much," he murmurs against my throat. His teeth scrape my pulse point, and I shiver. "I can feel it."
"Sorry I have a functioning brain," I manage.
He laughs. Actually laughs. The sound vibrates through his chest into mine, and something warm blooms behind my ribs.
"Smart mouth." He bites my earlobe. "I know how to fix that."
Before I can respond, he shifts his angle. His hand slides between us, thumb finding exactly where I need it.
My smart mouth produces nothing but a moan.
"Better." Smug bastard.
But I can't even be annoyed because he's building me toward something, each thrust pushing me higher. His thumb circles, presses, teases. My thighs tremble around his hips.
"Nico, I—" I can't finish the sentence. Can't think.
"I know." His forehead drops to mine. "Let go. I've got you."
Three words. Simple words. But I love them.
I've got you.
I shatter.
The orgasm hits like a wave, pulling me under. I hear myself cry out and Nico swallows it with a kiss. His hips stutter, rhythm breaking as he follows me over the edge.
For a long moment, neither of us moves.
His weight presses me into the desk. I should feel trapped. Suffocated. Instead, I feel... safe. Held. Like the desk and his body have formed a cocoon where nothing from the outside world can reach me.
"You okay?" His voice is muffled against my neck.
"Mm." It's the most eloquent response I can manage.
He lifts his head to look at me. His hair is wrecked and there's a softness in his eyes I'm still getting used to seeing.
"That wasn't the plan," he says.
"You had a plan?"
"Review quarterly reports." His lips twitch. "You distracted me."
"I distracted you?" I poke his chest. "I brought coffee. You're the one who—"
"Looked at you?" He raises an eyebrow. "That's all it takes?"
My cheeks heat. "Stop it."
He kisses me instead. Slow and deep, nothing like the frantic collision of before. When he pulls back, his thumb traces my cheekbone.
"We should..." I gesture vaguely at the mess we've made. Papers scattered everywhere. His pen holder definitely on the floor. My bra hanging off the back of his chair like a flag of surrender.
So much for professionalism.
Nico pushes off the desk, and I immediately miss his warmth. He moves around the room collecting clothing with the same efficient precision he applies to everything else. Business deals. Security protocols. Making me fall apart.
I slide off the desk on wobbly legs, wincing slightly. Tomorrow I'll probably have bruises on my thighs from the edge. Worth it.
My underwear landed somewhere near the bookshelf. I retrieve them with as much dignity as I can muster, which isn't much when Nico watches me with that satisfied smirk.
"Stop looking so smug," I tell him, stepping into my panties.
"I'm not smug."
"Your face says otherwise."
He buttons his shirt, fingers moving quickly. "My face doesn't say anything. It's a face."
"It's a smug face."
The corner of his mouth twitches. That's basically a full grin from him.
I hook my bra and pull my blouse back on, trying to remember which buttons go where. My brain is still fuzzy around the edges. Desk sex will do that to a person, apparently.
Desk sex.
Life is weird.
Nico tucks his shirt into his pants, and I watch the play of muscles beneath the fabric. He catches me staring.
"See something you like?"
"Your ego doesn't need any more feeding." I smooth down my skirt, checking for wrinkles. "Is there anything you need help with? While I'm here?"
His gaze drags down my body. Heat pools in my belly again, which is ridiculous. We just finished.
"If you stay in this office," he says, voice dropping low, "I won't need any help. Because I won't be working."
My face flames. "That's not what I meant."
"I know what you meant." He crosses to me in two steps, tilting my chin up with one finger. "But my brain stops functioning when you're in the room. So unless you want round two on the couch, you should leave."
I should definitely leave.
Definitely.
"The couch does look comfortable," I hear myself say.
Traitor mouth.
Nico's eyes darken. His hand slides from my chin to cup my jaw, thumb brushing my lower lip. "Don't tempt me."
Nico
She doesn't leave.
Instead, Kristen drops to her knees beside the desk, and starts gathering the scattered papers like she's actually going to organize them. The curve of her spine as she reaches under the desk is absolutely intentional.
"Missed one," she says, her voice too innocent. She stretches further, and I get a perfect view of her ass.
Mine.
"Kristen."
"Hmm?" She glances over her shoulder, eyes wide with false innocence. "I'm just cleaning up the mess you made."
"I made?"
"Well." She straightens, holding a handful of crumpled papers. "I don't recall being the one who swept everything off the desk."
My jaw tightens. She's playing a dangerous game, and she knows it. The way her lips curve tells me she knows exactly what she's doing.
She bends again, this time reaching for a pen that rolled near the couch. The skirt rides up the back of her thighs.
"You're not cleaning," I say, my voice dropping low.
"No?" Another innocent blink. "What am I doing then?"
I push back from my chair. The leather creaks in the silence. "Provoking me."
"Is it working?"
I cross the room. She doesn't move, doesn't straighten, just stays bent over with that pen in her hand and a challenge in her eyes.
"Couch." The word comes out rough. "Hands and knees."
Her breath catches. Good. But instead of obeying, she straightens slowly, turns to face the couch, then looks back at me over her shoulder.
"Like this?" She places one knee on the cushion, then the other, but stays upright, sitting back on her heels.
Deliberate misunderstanding. My cock, which never fully softened after round one, hardens again.
"No."
"Oh." She shifts, placing her palms on the armrest instead, her back arched but her ass too high. "This way?"
I move behind her. Close enough that she can feel the heat of my body but not close enough to touch. "Lower."
She adjusts, but barely. "Here?"
"You know exactly what I want." I lean down, my mouth near her ear. "Stop playing."
"Maybe I don't know." Her voice is breathless now, the teasing cracking. "Maybe you need to show me."
My hand connects with her ass before I consciously decide to do it. The sound cracks through the office—sharp, sudden. Her whole body jerks.
For one second, I freeze. I've never done that to her.
But then she moans. Low and surprised and hungry.
"Oh." The word escapes her, barely a whisper. Her fingers curl into the couch cushion.
I stroke my palm over where I struck, feeling the heat through her skirt. "You liked that."
Not a question. I felt her reaction, heard it, saw the way her spine curved deeper.
"I..." She swallows. "I didn't know I would."
I lean over her, my chest against her back, my mouth at her ear. "There's more. Things we haven't tried." My hand slides up her thigh. "Things you don't know you like yet."
Her breath shudders out. "Nico—"
"We're going to find them." I press a kiss to the curve of her neck. "Every single one."
She turns her head, catches my mouth in a kiss that's all heat and desperation. When she pulls back, her eyes are dark with want.
"Then show me."
I straighten, reaching for my wallet on the desk, pulling out a condom. She stays exactly where I put her, watching me over her shoulder as I roll it on.
"Eyes forward," I command.
She obeys. Cristo, the way she obeys.
My hand traces up her spine, pressing gently until she arches exactly right.
"Perfect." I position myself at her entrance. "You're perfect."
I push in slowly this time, savoring the way she stretches around me, the sound she makes—half gasp, half moan. Her fingers dig into the couch.
"More," she breathes.
I pull back, thrust deeper. Her whole body rocks forward.
"Harder."
My hand grips her hip, anchoring her as I give her what she's asking for. The sound of skin meeting skin fills the office. Her moans grow louder, less controlled.
"That's it." I watch where we're joined, watch her body take me. "Take what you need."
She pushes back against me, matching my rhythm, and something in my chest cracks open at the sight of her demanding pleasure like it's her right.
Because it is. It always was.
My hand slides around, finds her clit. She cries out.
"Come for me," I growl. "Let go."
She shatters with my name on her lips, her body clenching around me so tight I follow her over the edge, spilling into the condom with a groan that comes from somewhere deep.
We collapse together onto the couch, breathing hard, tangled and sweaty and exactly where we're supposed to be.
"So," she pants, her head resting on my chest. "Distracting?"
I pull her closer. "Devastating."