Chapter 15
fifteen
Kate
He’s your boss…he’s your boss…he’s your boss…
My brain is screaming at me, and all the alarm bells are ringing like we’re in the middle of a nuclear disaster, but Josh is kissing me, and I can’t seem to make myself care that this is a cataclysmically stupid decision.
I should pull away.
This is ill-advised.
Reckless.
Irresponsible.
Incredibly asinine behavior.
But isn’t that why I’m here? To prove that I can be spontaneous and live in the moment? That I don’t always have to make lists, take measured steps, weigh the pros and cons, or map out best- and worst-case scenarios? That I can live in the now, consequences be damned?
Even if this is only for tonight, who cares? People give into their carnal desires all the time, and I’ve seen Josh on stage enough in the last two months to know by the way he moves and the confidence he exudes that there is absolutely no way crossing this line will leave me unsatisfied.
And it’s been a long, long time since I’ve been satisfied.
One of his hands moves from my face to my hip, and when he pulls my body flush against his, I can feel how turned on he is just from kissing me, and my confidence kicks up to a level I didn’t know I possessed.
The elevator doors open behind us and he pulls away first, resting his forehead against mine as we fight to catch our breath.
He slides one hand into his pocket and takes a slow step back, then another, and another until he’s in the hallway, his eyes roaming slowly over my body and his free hand rubbing his chin as he studies me.
I’m unable to move, rooted in place as he devours me with his eyes, my heart hammering against my ribs because no one has ever looked at me the way this man is looking at me right now.
The elevator dings and we both jump to move toward the doors, but they close faster than we can stop them, and I can’t help but laugh as I’m transported back down to the lobby.
When the doors open, a group of people file in before I have a chance to reach forward to press the button to close them again, so I step all the way to the back and rest my head against the wall.
What in the hell are you doing?
Not what’s expected. For once in my life, I’m doing what I want to do.
Not what’s expected of me. Not what someone else would do in this situation.
Not the “right” thing. I’m doing something simply because I want to.
If it’s wrong, if it messes everything up, if I lose my job, well… that’s a problem for future Kate.
The ride back takes even longer as the people standing around me exit on several different floors, and when the elevator finally returns to our floor, I’m surprised to find that Josh is standing right where I left him.
When our eyes meet and he lets out a relieved breath, I know he still wants this.
That what just happened between us wasn’t a mistake or some sort of momentary lapse in judgement.
I close the distance between us and crash my mouth to his. He groans as his hands move to my face.
“Fuck,” he says, pulling himself away and looking into my eyes with such reverence, it releases something dangerous in my chest. “I can’t believe I’m finally kissing you. I’m kissing Kate.”
“I know, I’m her,” I say with a chuckle.
He takes my hand, turns, and pulls me down the hall toward our rooms. As soon as the door clicks shut behind me, we’re on each other.
A frenzy of hands and fingers and mouths exploring each other’s bodies like we’re starved for each other.
It’s not slow or shy or exploratory. It’s need. Pure, uninhibited need.
I reach for the buckle of his belt, and he groans before pulling away.
“Wait,” he says. He steps back and runs a hand through his hair, his expression unusually serious.
I freeze, my heart sinking as I search his face.
He’s come to his senses. He doesn’t want this. Not with you, the voice hisses, and I swallow nervously as I brace for the rejection I know is coming.
“Before this goes any further, there’s something I need to say.”
“Alright,” I say.
He exhales and rubs at the back of his neck. “I’m not exactly…soft in bed.”
“Well thank god,” I say, winking.
His lips twitch, but he keeps his gaze locked on mine. “I like being in control. And I…I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.” He shifts, tension radiating off him. “So, if that’s not something you want—”
“Josh,” I interrupt, placing a hand on his chest, surprised to feel his heart beating just as erratically as mine. “You’re overthinking.”
His brows pull together as he brushes his fingers down my cheek. “I just—”
“I’m into it,” I say, my voice steady despite the fire spreading through me.
His eyes darken. “You are?”
“Are you kidding? All day, I’m the one in control—scheduling, planning, making sure everything runs smoothly. I don’t want to think anymore. I trust you.”
“You will tell me to stop if it’s too much or you change your mind.”
I notice that it’s a demand, not a question, and my entire body heats at the tone of his voice. I nod again, looking up at him and pulling my bottom lip between my teeth.
“Words, sweetheart,” he says, pulling my lip free with his thumb. I tease the tip of it with my tongue, then suck it into my mouth and hollow my cheeks. He growls low in his throat, and I grin as he pulls his thumb free and his hand falls to my throat, his thumb moving slowly down the center.
“Yes,” I say.
“Yes what?”
“Yes, I will tell you to stop.”
“There’s my good girl,” his grip on my throat tightens and he pulls me into a kiss that feels very different from the one in the elevator. This is possessive. Demanding. Claiming. Something I gladly surrender to.
His hand glides from my throat to my shoulder and he slides my jacket off.
It hits the floor with a soft thud, and I shiver—not from the chill of the room, but from the way his fingers drag over my skin as he bites and sucks at the pulse point on my neck.
It’s slow and purposeful, and my knees go weak.
I dig my fingers into his shoulders, centering myself in the feel of his body against mine and the heady scent of his cologne.
“I can’t believe it took me this fucking long to touch you like this,” he mutters against my skin.
Neither can I.
Because this—whatever it is between us—feels too good to be bad. Too right to be wrong. Too perfect to be a mistake.
His hands fall to my waist, and he backs me toward the bed. I go easily, wrapped in the haze of his touch and the sound of his breathing, savoring the knowledge that it’s as rough and uneven as mine.
He spins me so that my back is against his chest and brushes my hair over my shoulder, exposing the back of my dress. He leans into me and presses his mouth to my ear as his fingers find the zipper.
“I’ve dreamed of touching you like this, Kate,” he says, his voice sliding over my skin like silk.
“And now that it’s real, I’m going to take my time with you.
I’m going to strip you bare and make you beg for me, and when I’m done, you won’t be able to think about anything other than how good it felt to be mine. ”
The zipper slides down with a slow, deliberate sound that somehow makes my entire body hum with anticipation.
He doesn’t just peel the dress off and toss is aside—he lowers it slowly, claiming every inch of skin it reveals, touching, kissing, and gripping my body like he’s committing me to memory.
“This?” he says, running a hand slowly from my neck, between my breasts, and to my aching core, teasing me through the thin lace of my underwear.
“You’re mine.” The last words are a growl, and goosebumps cover my skin in anticipation.
His thumbs hook in the waistband of my underwear, and he tugs them down with such force I hear the delicate fabric tear as turns me back around and kisses me.
“Lay back for me, sweetheart,” he says against my lips, voice lower than I’ve ever heard it. It hits me somewhere deep, and I do as he asks, never breaking eye contact.
I’ve had sex before and I’ve had boyfriends, but I’ve never had this. Never had someone touch me like they own me. Never been with someone who could unravel me with nothing more than a look. Never almost come from the deep timbre of someone’s voice alone.
“Show me.”
I bite my bottom lip, heart pounding, and drop my knees open, baring myself to him. For a moment, I expect to feel the usual sting of self-consciousness—the instinct to cover up or to hide. The voice to come back and whisper doubts.
But it doesn’t come.
Because the way Josh is looking at me like he’s going to devour me makes me feel anything but small.
In this moment, I don’t feel nervous. I feel powerful.
Desired. In control of something I never knew I had the right to own.
He’s awakened something in me, and even though he’s barely touched me, I know that after this is over, I will never be the same.
“Fuck,” he says on an exhale as he rubs a hand over his jaw before lowering it to his side. I watch his hands curl into fists as his eyes leave mine and move slowly down my body and he holds onto whatever self-control remains.
His eyes find mine again as he reaches behind his head with one hand and peels his shirt off, tossing it to the floor next to my dress.
I’ve seen his body almost every night for the last two months, but I never let myself appreciate it until now.
He looks like he was carved by Michelangelo—broad shoulders, defined arms, a torso that tapers into a narrow waist, the deep V muscles that run along his hip bones and disappear into his jeans—every inch of him honed to perfection.
His muscles flex with every movement, catching the low light from the bedside table that paints him in light and shadow.
I lick my lips and as his eyes track the movement, the cocky grin I’ve seen him use on stage so many times slowly appears, and the look in his eyes tells me he knows exactly what kind of power he has, and that he isn’t afraid to wield it.
With one hand, he unhooks his belt from the loop of his waistband then tugs, releasing the smooth, black leather from the notch. It’s a simple act but fuck it’s hot.
His jeans fall to the floor leaving him in nothing but a thin pair of black boxer briefs that leave little to the imagination.
“You see what you do to me?” I lift my gaze to his eyes as he steps closer. “I’ve barely touched you,” he murmurs, reaching down to stroke himself through the fabric. “And I’m already dying to bury my cock in that tight little cunt.”
He says it like a confession, and there’s something about knowing I did that to him without even trying that makes me feel empowered. Wanted. Revered.
I hum and lean back onto my elbows as I study him.
“If you want me that bad,” I say, slowly dragging my eyes up his body before finally meeting his eyes. “What are you waiting for?”
His mouth curves into something dark as he moves closer, slow and controlled, like he has all the time in the world.
“You think I just want you?” he asks. “Sweetheart, I ache for you.” He stops at the edge of the bed, eyes raking over me. “And I’m going to make sure you feel it. How badly I ache.”
He hooks his fingers in the waistband of his briefs, dragging them down slowly, never once taking his eyes off me. When he kicks them aside, I sit up instinctively, lips parted, breath caught in my throat.
He’s beautiful—thick and hard—and the sight of him makes every coherent thought fall right out of my head and onto the floor.
And he knows it. He watches the way I look at him with sharp and hungry eyes. He wraps a hand around himself, pumping once slowly, and when I moan in response, he’s on me, pressing me back into the mattress and caging me in with his body.
“You offer yourself to me like this—spread out, wet, and ready—and ask what I’m waiting for?
” His voice is a low growl against my neck.
“I’m giving you a chance to brace yourself.
” His hand trails down my stomach, fingers dragging lightly over my heated skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake until they find where I need him most. I gasp and he grins like a man who knows he’s already won.
“Because I’m not just going to fuck you, Kate,” he murmurs, nipping at my jaw. “I’m going to ruin you for anyone else.”
He slides two fingers inside me, curling them just right, and watches the way I arch beneath him. He smirks before pressing his mouth to the shell of my ear, “That’s what you were waiting for.”
He withdraws his fingers, and when I whimper in response, he laughs against my mouth before he kisses me—softer this time. Like he’s reminding me that underneath the dominance and rough edges lies something even more dangerous.
Something real.
It’s almost overwhelming—the way he touches me, the way he already holds me like I belong to him—but what surprises me most is how safe I feel in it.
I already know there’s nothing gentle about this side of Josh.
It’s raw, intense, and edged in something feral, but I know he’s only thinking about me.
Watching every reaction and waiting for the slightest flicker of hesitation.
But there isn’t any. Not with him.
He slides down my body slowly like he’s savoring the anticipation as much as I am. His hands trail along my sides, fingers digging into my hips to keep me still when I squirm under the heat of his gaze.
“Keep those legs open for me, sweetheart,” he says, voice rough. I hum as his hands reach under me and he grabs my ass, pulling me off the mattress and to his mouth. His breath ghosts over my skin just before he lowers his head.
The first brush of his tongue is slow and teasing, and I moan, hands fisting in the sheets, but he doesn’t give me time to adjust or the space to breathe. His grip on my ass tightens and he groans low in his throat like the taste of me is everything he’s been starving for.
“Look at me,” he growls, his voice vibrating against me.
I lift my head just enough to see him between my thighs—eyes locked on mine, hair a mess, jaw tight with hunger as he buries his tongue deeper. The sight of him there, so focused, so obsessed, makes something inside me come alive.
He flattens his tongue and drags it up slowly, then circles my clit with just the right amount of pressure. My thighs twitch around him, and he tightens his grip, holding me in place.
“You taste like fucking heaven,” he says against me, lips wet and voice guttural.
I can’t respond. Can’t do anything except give myself over to him as the pleasure builds fast and sharp, cresting into something overwhelming. I cry out his name, and just before I come, he pulls away.
“Not yet, sweetheart,” he says, that devastating smirk reappearing on his lips as he licks them. “I decide when.”