Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
“ N o, no, no.” I paced the three steps it took to get to the outer door and back to him. “You can call someone.”
“With what signal?”
I blinked. Memories of Jack telling me that there was no cell signal within one hundred feet of the building had me shaking my head. I scrabbled through my purse, dropping my keys and sweater to the floor. I pulled my phone out—no signal.
And for safety’s sake, no one could connect to the main network by phone. It was a security measure that was enforced at length.
“What exactly do you do that requires so much security? Or are you just that much of a control freak?” I asked, stabbing him in the chest.
The muscle in his jaw jumped.
“It’s glass, Mr. Carson. These are not in the same league as state secrets.” My temper was crashing into all the anger I’d been carrying. I should have held my tongue. I knew it. There was even a little tiny voice inside my head screaming at me. But see, it was really tiny. And I so didn’t want to listen to it.
His nostrils flared, but he stood there and took each poke.
His chest was radiating heat. I was still overheated from my run through the lobby, and my temper blasting out of my damn pores. But the coolness of the vestibule was pushing at me from the back, and here he was, so warm and vibrant.
So freaking big and silent.
I couldn’t help myself, I pushed him back a step and stomped my foot. “Talk, dammit.”
His hands were fisted at his sides. I could practically feel the vibration of his muscles and the seething frustration shimmering off him.
Suddenly, he was gripping a handful of my hair, dragging my head back, just before he covered my mouth with his.
Shock left me immobile for a moment. His kiss was powerful, and not the least bit tentative. I was swept into the breath-stealing undertow that was Blake Carson.
The force of his kiss nearly had me stumbling backward, but somehow I held my ground. His tongue swept across my lips, and I opened instinctively.
There were no bumping noses or misalignments. There was only his lips and tongue gliding along mine like a tempest. He was too tall for me to reach for his shoulders without going up on my toes, so I gripped his vest and held on.
I should have ripped my lips away and took five, ten, maybe twenty steps back. Okay, so that would’ve put me on the ceiling of this glass box, but I should have been doing anything except kissing him.
But I didn’t pull away. I hummed into his mouth and hooked my arm under the warmth of his suit jacket. The silk liner was warm from his body and slithered over the back of my hand and the top of my forearm. My skin was utterly alive. But the best part was the tantalizing terrain of muscles under my palm. Even through the cotton shirt and satin-backed vest, there was no denying a world of wonder hidden under his suit.
Warm.
Hard.
So hard.
I couldn’t get enough. My other arm snaked around his back until I was wrapped around him like a freaking vine.
Finally, the kiss eased a bit. He didn’t pull away, though.
Drunk on his taste and touch, I realized I was the one about to climb his body like a damn tree.
Wow. He was going to think I was some love-starved freak.
I was, but he didn’t need to know that.
He’d started the kiss, so it wasn’t my fault. All I knew was that I didn’t want to step back and see pity, or hear, “Aww, that was nice.”
I managed to open my eyes, but he didn’t step back. Not at all, actually.
In fact, his eyes slitted open as he continued to kiss me. The gold had obliterated the green as he watched me. When he nipped my lower lip, I fell right back into the kiss.
This time, his free arm went around me, and he lifted me off the ground. His breath poured into my mouth as I squeaked. He pinned me against the glass and dragged my knee up and hooked it around his waist.
Hard.
Yeah, hard all over. Oh my gosh… hard .
I’d never had that I-love-to-feel-tiny thing with guys.
In fact, most of the time I ended up with a rather short guy when I did go out on a date. Being five-feet-two would do that.
But this lifted up thing? Yeah.
Okay, so it wasn’t bad.
At all.
My arms were unencumbered. Mr. Carson—Blake—was all suit and tie and shirt and covered everywhere. I was wearing a sleeveless sweater and a swirly skirt.
I’d never been so happy with my wardrobe choices in my life. I boosted myself a little higher using his shoulders.
And holy crap, shoulders didn’t even cover it. He was a freaking study of muscles designed for strength and endurance. “So, we’re doing this?” I said against his mouth.
He pulled away from the kiss, his hips pinning me tight against the glass. His chest was heaving with effort, and his eyes were a little wild.
Some of his usual seriousness started to fill his gaze.
Abort!
Quickly, I kissed him and scraped my fingers up the back of his hair into the surprisingly long strands on top. “I don’t want to stop. I’m just—you know…” I swallowed and blew out a breath. “I’m hoping that you’re not going to come to your senses or something. Because I’m thinking this is going to be a really good orgasm. And I could really use a good orgasm.”
He frowned. “I don’t know what to say to that.”
Angling closer, I flicked the tip of my tongue over the little dip in his top lip. “Tell me you’re not going to get thinky.”
“Are you?”
Good question. “Maybe tomorrow.”
He nodded. “Tomorrow, yes.”
That was good enough for me.
“God, you taste good.” I slanted my mouth over his and hummed when his other hand skimmed under my sweater and cupped my breast. He boosted me higher until his almost-beard, then his teeth, scraped down my neck.
“Hang onto me, Ms. Copeland.”
“Sweet Jesus, are you going to call me that when you…” I groaned out a breath when he did something between a bite and a lick along my neck.
“When I fuck you?” he asked against my neck.
Leaning back, he met my gaze. His lips were wet from mine, his eyes dark and hooded in the limited light of the vestibule. “Because that’s what I intend to do.”
Oh, hell yes.
He shoved up my sweater and bra at the same time. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t tease—no, he just went right for my skin. He sucked my nipple into his mouth and rolled the tight tip between his teeth and tugged.
Not gently.
Heat flushed me from neck to waist. I couldn’t say a word.
Hell, I no longer even had words to use.
There was no experience to draw on for this. A fumbling boy in college and a man too sweet and nice to incite this kind of reaction were my only barometer.
Blake’s mouth should be illegal in all fifty states.
I was so incredibly out of my depth.
He licked a trail under my breast, his other arm supporting my ass. I could do nothing but hold on and pray that I could manage to make it good for him too.
He went from one to the other until my head thunked against the glass. “God.”
His eyes glittered in the near dark. When headlights flashed over us from the street, I instinctively flinched.
“They can’t see.” He grazed his teeth over my ribs and back to my breast. “They have no idea that we’re here.”
My heart pounded so hard I couldn’t hear anything else. It filled my head, my chest, and echoed between my thighs.
To the world, it was just a glass face to his building. To me, it was an epiphany.
This is what it felt like to be wanted.
He rolled his hips against me, and I whimpered.
He pushed up the sweater until I couldn’t see. I didn’t want that. I wanted to be a part of this and to experience every moment. I flipped my sweater over my head and hissed out a shuddering sigh when he unclasped my bra.
“Perfect,” he said around my nipple. His long, sculpted fingers made me feel small and fragile. My skin was honey-toned from the beach, but his was a deep olive hue.
No pasty office drone skin for him.
I frowned over that for a moment. All he did was work.
But then he plucked my nipple and twisted lightly, and I forgot how words worked. I was a wide open nerve that sucked up all the pleasure he was dispensing.
And I was overflowing with it.
He bent his knees and lowered me to my feet.
I grasped his shoulders. “No, don’t stop.” There was no disguising the raw plea in my voice.
“I don’t think I could.”