Chapter 19
Gabriella
I let out a satisfied sigh as I looked over at Chandler next to me, the plush rug under me tickling my bare skin.
He lay next to me, his breath beginning to slow as he tucked his hands behind his head and looked up at the ceiling.
The late afternoon sun was still high, warming my skin and illuminating the beads of sweat on his toned chest. I let my eyes linger there longer than I wanted to.
He was so cocky, I didn’t want to feed his ego any more.
But I couldn’t help it. I watched his chest rise and fall, my eyes wandering down further, past his chiseled abs.
Seriously, what was this guy’s workout routine?
My gaze stopped right at the deep V that led down to his weapon of massive pleasure, as if I hadn’t just had him deep inside me.
I didn’t dare look further down for fear I would demand a round two.
“Like what you see?” he asked, his voice low, but playful.
“It’s all right,” I said nonchalantly, my eyes snapping up to the ceiling, as if I hadn’t just been caught eye-fucking him after actually fucking him.
He chuckled to himself, confident in the show he was putting on just by lying here on the floor.
I rolled my eyes. “You’re not that great,” I said.
“That’s not what I heard just a minute ago when you were straining not to scream.”
“Shut up.” I pushed him playfully.
He laughed and rolled on his side, draping his arm over my bare stomach.
It was such a casual gesture, but it sent my insides into a tizzy.
As if sensing his effect on me, he began tracing the arch of my side with his thumb.
I swallowed hard, trying to will away how much he turned me on.
I wasn’t sure how I had anything left in me after the three orgasms that crashed through me just minutes ago.
“I know what you’re doing,” I said sharply, raising a brow as I glanced down at his hand that was now dangerously close to my breast.
“What?” he asked innocently, but his small smirk gave him away.
“I don’t think we have time for round two,” I said, glancing at the locked door of his office. I tried to push out the thought of everyone outside that door, walking by, typing out emails, making phone calls. All blissfully unaware that just past that door, I had been completely ravaged.
“Oh, I don’t know…” he said suggestively, his fingers trailing over my nipple, making my back arch.
“Cut that out,” I said, biting my lip.
“I can’t help it.” He closed his thumb and forefinger around my nipple and gave it a light pinch that sent my body slamming into his as my teeth bit into his shoulder to keep me from letting out a moan.
He released me and I fell back on the rug.
He began softly trailing his finger around my nipple, the softness a shocking contrast to the slight pleasure-filled pain he had just sent through me.
He propped himself on one elbow, bringing his body slightly over mine.
I could feel his erection growing as it pressed against the side of my upper thigh.
I let out a shuddered breath as my eyes fell to it.
I swallowed hard. “Chandler…” I said in what I thought was quiet protest, but sounded more like me begging.
“Hmm,” he said, his fingers mindlessly trailing down my stomach.
I let out a soft moan. How was he so good at simply touching me?
How was I not used to it yet? We had been going at it like teenagers for weeks.
Ever since he came to my apartment to sign fake documents.
He must have seen through my excuse because he didn’t hesitate when he walked through the door of my apartment to put his hands and mouth on me.
No words were spoken, but screams of pleasure were definitely ringing through my apartment.
We had been growing restless at work, though.
The sexual tension between us was too much to not do anything about, which was why we often had “meetings” in his office.
Meetings that required his door to be locked and his shades drawn.
It was risky. Reckless. Out of our minds. But we couldn’t help it.
The first time he had lured me in here, loudly announcing we had a last-minute phone meeting scheduled, I looked at him curiously.
I followed him into his office ready for a meeting, notepad in hand, but when I saw him lowering the shades on the windows of his office, I realized there was no meeting.
He took that notepad out of my hands and tossed it aside, pushing me up against the door as his hands worked the buttons of my blouse.
I didn’t protest, even though I knew the entire office was just behind the door my back was hitched against.
It had been weeks of stifled moans and hands frantically exploring every inch of each other.
The sex had somehow gotten better. Maybe the riskiness upped the ante, but whatever it was, I couldn’t get enough.
Not of him, of course. It wasn’t about him.
He was still the same smug asshole who made me cringe every time he opened his mouth.
But I couldn’t get enough of the way he pushed so far into me that I saw white spots.
It wasn’t just the size of his cock, or the fact that he knew how to use it. It was his hands. His mouth. His hair damp with sweat as my fingers clenched onto it, as I tried desperately to stay on this planet. The way he made me come again and again made up for the fact that he was an alphahole.
“We can’t,” I said firmly, looking up at the clock on his wall.
It was almost time to go home anyway. Part of me wished he would ask me to continue back at his place, but he didn’t.
Not as he withdrew his hand as it had been inches away from finding my sex.
He hadn’t asked me to his place. Our sexual escapades were here in the office.
It was like he had some boundary he didn’t want me to cross.
A wall he didn’t want to break down. I wondered why, but tried not to put too much thought in it.
It was just sex.
I reached for my blouse that was slung carelessly over the nearby armchair, and sat up to slide it on. As I worked the buttons, I watched Chandler stand up, his smooth ass in clear view as he sauntered over to put on his clothes. He knew exactly what he was doing. Damn him.
He slid on his briefs, followed by his pants and shirt. He helped me zip the back of my skirt up, his fingers idling as he did so. I looked over my shoulder at him, shooting him a look. He was relentless. He shrugged innocently and all I could do was laugh.
But my laughter was cut short when there was a loud knock on the door.
“Holy shit,” I whispered, frantically smoothing my skirt and then my hair, which was in rough shape.
Chandler quickly grabbed his jacket and slid it on.
He looked nervous. He looked at me for approval and my eyes ran over him.
I gave him a nod of approval. The last thing we needed was someone figuring us out.
He quickly reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. The knock sounded again, startling me.
Chandler unlocked the door and stepped back, revealing my father in the doorway.
My heart leapt to my throat as I backed up against the bookshelf, my hands reaching for the shelf to steady myself.
An employee would be bad, but my father made this a thousand times scarier.
If he had shown up just five minutes before, he would have had an eyeful. The thought made my cheeks blaze.
“Mr. Howard. What a pleasant surprise,” said Chandler, gesturing for him to enter, his voice calm and cool.
One of us had to be as my knuckles turned white gripping the shelf behind me.
I breathed in deep, trying to figure out if it smelled of sex in here.
If it did, my father didn’t seem to notice.
“Hey, Dad,” I said as casually as I could. “I didn’t know you were coming in today.”
He looked between Chandler and me, stepping further into the room. He gave us a warm smile. “Oh, I just thought I would pop in and see how things were going.”
He couldn’t have picked a worse time to “pop in.” In fact, he hadn’t been here in weeks, which was part of the reason why Chandler and I felt like we could be so reckless.
“Everything is going as to be expected,” I said with a confident smile across my lips.
My father looked toward Chandler, as if he needed someone to back up my answer.
It irritated me how he put his “golden boy” ahead of me.
He clearly had put more trust in him lately to not be at the office as much.
I guessed Chandler’s success as CEO has been all my father needed for proof he made the right decision.
As much as I was glad for the company, part of me wished Chandler wasn’t so impressive.
Even though I was sleeping with the enemy, I was still frustrated with my father. Our relationship had been forever changed ever since he made his announcement in the conference room. It pained me. So much, that I had been feeling physically ill over it.
“Better than that,” said Chandler smugly. “Numbers are up even more than last week, sir.”
My father nodded his approval. “So I’ve heard. You’ve really made something of this place, Chandler.”
I refrained from rolling my eyes, as if I hadn’t been there every step of the way, teaching him the ropes as much as his stubborn ass would let me.
“And the two of you have worked out your…issues?” my father asked, eyeing me and me only, as if I were the one to blame here.
I lifted my chin slightly. “We’ve had our kinks,” said Chandler, and I swore a smirk tugged at his lips slightly as my cheeks reddened by how many ways that statement could be taken.
“But we’ve worked them out,” he added.
“Good.” My father nodded. “These types of partnerships can be tricky at first.”
“Oh, it’s been hard at times.” He put an emphasis on that word, making my mind go straight to just how hard he was. “But when we figured it out, it felt just right.”
I swallowed hard, even though my throat was drying out. He was so smug and so cocky, delivering smooth innuendos that went right over my father’s head and directly between my legs. I clamped my thighs together tightly, shooting him threats with my eyes that he simply met with a smile.
“Well, I’ll leave you two to it,” said my father, clearly happy with our answers.
He turned to me. “I’ll see you for dinner tomorrow night?”
“Mhmm,” I managed to say, even though I was still reeling with how blatant Chandler had just been. I was surprised he didn’t just come out and say, “We’re having sex.”
He turned and gave a little wave as he strode out the door. I let out the breath it felt like I had been holding since the knock on the door. I quickly closed the door and whirled around to face Chandler.
“Are you fucking crazy?” I asked, my eyes wide.
“It was funny.” He shrugged. “I wasn’t sure what was funnier. It all going over his head, or the way you squirmed.”
I shook my head. “I was not squirming.”
He took a step toward me that made my heartrate quicken. “Are you sure about that?” he asked in a throaty whisper.
This man would be the end of me.