Chapter 14
RILEY
My mouth drops open in shock as the mask slips away from his face, revealing features I’m all too familiar with.
Defined brows rest over intense, steel-grey eyes. His aquiline nose drags my eyes down to the pleased curl of his lips. The stubble dusting his jawline is just a shade darker than it was this morning, when I sat across from him and went over reports for our first Friday recap.
Mr. D’Amico.
My mystery man.
One and the same.
I’m either going to pass out or throw up.
The arousal that had been building in my gut takes a hard left turn into confusion and anxiety, reality slamming into me in an entirely unpleasant fashion.
My eyes dart around the room, hoping for something to be off, to tell me that I’m dreaming, but the deepest part of my mind is rioting in celebration.
This is what I wanted, what I fantasized about. It’s so much more terrifying seeing it actually happen.
I shove up from the bed without thinking, my body moving just to do something, but he catches me with a single hand around my throat. He doesn’t squeeze, only applying enough pressure to sit me back down and keep me there.
I’m so lightheaded I can’t think straight.
“Calm down,” he says, his voice steady and insistent.
How did I not recognize him? It was right there in front of me this whole time.
I hear his voice every day at work. He was up on the stage at the gala less than a minute after asking for my number.
I’ve been looking into those steely blue eyes, imagining my mystery man and Nick were the same person, not knowing I was right all along.
“Oh my God,” I cry, clenching my eyes shut as embarrassment floods me.
I’ve been texting my boss. I’ve been sexting my boss. At work.
He’s been on the other side of the wall while I’ve complained about Sloane and bragged about my brand-new office.
And I fingered myself open on my desk! I’ve been throwing myself at my boss without even knowing it.
Sloane’s words from earlier come back in a rush, hitting me like a train, causing my stomach to turn.
Fucking hell, I want to disappear.
Nick’s hand shifts from my throat to my face, his knuckles dragging across my jaw.
“Breathe, Miss Morgan,” he says, rubbing his thumb over the apple of my cheek. “In and out, copy me.”
I drag a lungful of air in before I even register that I’m listening, but it doesn’t make me any less light-headed.
My heart races in my chest, but I can’t stop myself from leaning into his gentle touch.
After several ragged breaths, I force my eyes open, darting across his features, trying to convince myself that this is real.
“I…”
“I know it’s a lot,” he says when I fail to come up with anything to say, his lips curving into a smile. “Just give yourself a moment.”
Give myself a moment? I’d need a century to process about half of what’s happening right now.
“What—Mr. D’Amico, I—”
“Nick.” He cuts me off without hesitation, pulling back just enough to meet my eyes, that unwavering steely grey even more intimidating up close. “My name is Nick.”
First name basis… okay then.
“Nick,” I breathe, helpless to do anything but obey the unspoken command.
His grin sharpens at the edges, smug and hungry. “Atta girl,” he praises. “Don’t freak yourself out, Princess. You’re not my employee here, understood? This,” he says, punctuating the word with a slight scrape of his nails at my neck, “is separate from work.”
My thoughts scatter into bits and pieces being this close to him, the woody scent of his cologne almost as overwhelming as the heat of his hands on my skin.
Every time I think I’m starting to calm down, the gravel of his voice scrapes down my spine or his fingers brush against a spot on my shoulder that’s never been so sensitive before.
My mind won’t settle for longer than it takes me to blink, but it’s razor-focused on Nick.
I feel like I’m buzzing, adrenaline and desire warring against the warning sirens trying desperately to get me to do something other than melt into his touch.
I should argue. Or ask questions, at least.
I shouldn’t tip my head back and allow the control he has over me to take permanent hold, but the hunger in his eyes makes it impossible to do anything but obey.
“I won’t blame you if it’s too much,” he murmurs, his words gentle even as his hands never stop roaming over every inch of bare skin. “If you don’t want this, now that you know the truth, you just have to say the word.”
Everything I’ve fantasized about is being offered to me on a silver platter, and he’s not sure if I want this?
Okay, yes, it’s terrifying. I’m mortified that my boss looked me in the eye after instructing me how to get myself off on multiple occasions. It’s endlessly embarrassing that I made it so easy for him—and that I’m going to continue making it easy for him.
But for once, the rational part of my brain isn’t louder than my impulses.
I want this. All of this.
All of him.
“You’re not surprised.” It’s more of a realization than a statement, the truth evident in the way he hasn’t hesitated for a second tonight. “Did you know it was me this whole time? Since the gala?”
“Since the Halloween party,” he corrects me, his smirk widening.
The Halloween party? What is he… my mouth drops open in shock as realization slams into me.
The Halloween party? The one right after I got hired?
“I—that was you?”
He chuckles, sliding his fingers through my hair in a way that’s somehow both soothing and possessive. “Sorry for making you wait so long, Miss Morgan. I had to be sure you wanted this as much as I did before I took what belongs to me.”
His fingers tangle in my hair, tugging my head back before I can respond.
I tremble as he bends down, slow and measured, graceful like a predator when he fixes his lips to my throat. It’s more intense than anything I’ve ever felt before, the entire world narrowing down to the scratch of his stubble and the warm press of his mouth over my pounding pulse.
“Tell me what you want, Riley.”
The unconcealed lust in his tone makes me shiver, my skin breaking out in goosebumps as he bullies his knees between my legs. The slit in my skirt bares one leg all the way to my hip, and Nick hums in approval as he drags his palm down the curve of my waist to trace the naked skin.
“It’s all up to you. Do you want this?” he asks, that calloused palm sliding up another torturous inch. “Do you want me?”
My nails catch on the expensive fabric of his suit jacket as his thumb brushes the inside of my thigh, just below the hem of my panties. His eyes gleam with confidence and mirth, like he knows the answer already. Like he just wants to hear me beg for it.
“God, yes, Nick,” I moan, arching into his touch desperately, the years of pining crashing into me all at once. “More than anything. I need it.”
The noise he lets out is nothing short of animalistic, base, raw, and starving, and it lights a fire low in my gut.
He slides his free hand beneath me and teases the zipper of my dress down slowly, kissing across the low neckline as I arch up to help him. The press of his knuckles against my spine and the way he lifts my hip up to give him enough room makes my head spin.
Nick’s mouth travels lower and lower once the zipper is free, allowing him to nudge the neckline of my dress down far enough to bare my breasts. He nips at the sensitive skin before swiping his tongue across my nipple, smirking at the gasp that tears from my throat.
“Be a good girl and ask for what you want,” he croons, low and amused. “I’ll give you everything you need if you just say please, Miss Morgan.”
He’s hardly touched me, his thumb still rubbing lazily back and forth in the crease of my hip, never dipping beneath the fabric of my panties.
It’s torture, and I can’t take it anymore. I want everything he’s offering me right now, and I’m going to take it.
“Fuck, Nick, please,” I sob, wrapping my leg around his hips, pulling him in closer as need builds between my legs. “I need this, need you. Please, I’ll do anything you want.”
Nick’s hand flies to my hip, pinning me against the bed even as he grinds the hard bulge of his cock against me.
“I already told you,” he growls into my ear, “promising a man like me anything is dangerous.”
“You don’t scare me,” I say breathlessly, watching with wide eyes as he pushes up to shove my dress above my hips as a grin lingers across his lips at the sight of the lacy black lingerie against my skin. “Haven’t I waited long enough?”
He huffs out a laugh, somewhere between disbelieving and adoring, as he leans up to ghost his lips over mine.
I melt into the kiss, dragging my nails across his scalp as he works me into a puddle with nothing but his mouth on mine. By the time he pulls back, I’m panting and glossy-eyed, so worked up I can hardly stand it.
He grins wickedly at the sight but doesn’t give me any time to catch my breath.
Long, thick fingers push my panties to the side, impatient and demanding even as he keeps his touches light and playful. I choke on a gasp, my legs falling open instinctively, begging for more as I grind up into his touch.
“So wet for me already?” he asks, his fingertips dragging through the mess between my thighs. “I’ve hardly even touched you yet, Princess. I had no idea you were this easy.”
He says it like he’s thrilled that my body responds so readily to his touch. I whimper when he leans down for another kiss, grinning against my mouth as he rolls his thumb over my clit.
“More.” It’s more than a plea but less than a demand, a breathless gasp of a word against his lips. “Nick.”
He doesn’t make me wait, nipping my bottom lip in approval. He slides two fingers inside me, forcing me open around his knuckles and causing a soft moan of pain and pleasure to escape me as he crooks his fingertip up to rub the sweet spot inside me.