16. Luka #2
Her hands land on my chest. For one second, she pushes like she means to create distance.
Then her fingers curl into my shirt.
“You’re insane,” she whispers.
“Yes.”
“This is the office.”
“Yes.”
“Anyone could—”
I kiss her.
She makes a small sound against my mouth and grabs my shirt harder. The kiss is not slow. There is no space for slow. She’s angry, I’m impatient, and the whole floor could knock on that door at any moment.
She kisses me back like she’s furious with me for making her want this. Her teeth catch my lower lip. My good hand tightens on her waist, and I back her against the counter. The edge hits her thighs. She gasps, and I use that sound, kiss her deeper, take more.
Her hand moves to my shoulder and stops immediately.
Even now, she remembers.
That carefulness does something to me.
I break the kiss enough to say, “Good side.”
She shifts her grip to my uninjured shoulder without arguing. Then she pulls me back down.
A knock sounds somewhere down the corridor. Not on this door.
Still, we both freeze for half a second.
Nina’s eyes are wide.
I look at her mouth.
She whispers, “This is a terrible idea.”
“I know.”
“You keep saying that and doing it anyway.”
“Yes.”
“You are very difficult to respect.”
“You respect me?”
“Less every minute.”
I kiss her again before she can smile.
My hand slides from her waist to her hip. She’s wearing a fitted skirt, dark and professional, the kind of thing she probably chose this morning while pretending last night did not happen. I pull her closer, and her body fits against mine with a familiarity that should not exist after one night.
She turns her face away to breathe. “You need to go.”
“No.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
“I have work.”
“You resigned.”
“You tore it up.”
“You’re welcome.”
She lets out an angry little laugh, then bites it back when I kiss down her neck.
There’s a mark low near her collarbone, hidden badly by the open neck of her blouse. My mark. She must have covered it this morning before Misha arrived. The thought of her lying to her brother with my mouth still on her skin almost makes me lose what little control I have.
I put my mouth over the bruise.
She grips my shirt. “Don’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I have to sit at my desk after this.”
“Then sit carefully.”
She makes a sound that is half laugh, half gasp. “You are awful.”
“So you keep saying,” I murmur.
I slide my hand down her thigh and lift her onto the counter. She grabs my shoulders, then immediately shifts away from the injured side. Her legs part around me before she can pretend they don’t.
She looks at the door. “Did you lock it?”
“Yes.”
She stares at me. “You cannot CEO your way out of this if someone catches us.”
“I can.”
“Luka.”
“I don’t intend to be caught.”
Her eyes drop to my mouth again.
I kiss her hard, and she stops arguing. Her fingers slide into my hair, ruining whatever order it had left. I don’t care. I pull her closer to the edge of the counter, careful of my shoulder but not gentle enough to pretend this is innocent.
Her skirt rides up. My hand moves beneath it.
She breaks the kiss with a sharp inhale. “We can’t.”
“Tell me no.”
Her eyes hold mine.
She doesn’t say it.
Nina’s breathing changes. The risk is doing something to her.
She hates that.
I can see it in her face.
I slide my fingers over the edge of her underwear. She’s already wet through the fabric.
My jaw tightens.
She sees my expression and flushes. “Don’t.”
“I said nothing.”
“You looked smug.”
“I’m very disciplined.”
“You are touching me in a coffee room.”
“My discipline has limits.”
She opens her mouth, probably to insult me again.
I move the fabric aside and touch her.
Her words disappear.
She grabs the counter with one hand and my shirt with the other. Her eyes close for one second, then open again, focused on mine as if she is trying to prove she can take this without losing herself.
I rub her clit slowly at first, watching her fight to stay quiet. Her mouth trembles, then firms. Her thighs tighten around my hips. She looks furious and turned on and terrified of the door all at once.
“Quiet,” I say.
She gives me a look that would be more effective if she were not shaking against my hand.
“I hate you,” she whispers.
“No, you don’t.”
“I could.”
“Not right now.”
Her breath catches when I slide one finger inside her.
She’s hot and tight and too wet for any lie she might have tried to tell. I lower my mouth to hers, not kissing fully, just close enough to feel every sound she tries to hold back.
She turns her face into my neck. “Someone could knock,” she whispers.
“Yes.”
“Someone could need coffee.”
“They can suffer.”
A breathless laugh slips out of her, and I cover it with my mouth, kissing her as I add a second finger. She clenches around me immediately. I move my thumb over her clit and feel her entire body react.
“Luka.”
“Quiet.”
“You are the one who—”
I curl my fingers.
She stops speaking.
Her head drops forward against my chest. I keep my bad shoulder back, my good hand working between her thighs, my mouth near her ear. Her body starts moving in tiny, helpless shifts, trying to get more without making noise.
I like that too much.
“Look at me,” I say.
She shakes her head.
“Nina.”
Her eyes lift.
There’s anger there still. Need too. Fear of being discovered. Fear of wanting me this much when things are already complicated enough.
I rub her clit harder.
Her lips part.
I kiss her before she can make a sound.
She comes against my hand, shaking hard, one hand gripping my shirt and the other clamped over my forearm. I hold her steady on the counter and keep kissing her until the worst of it passes.
But she’s not done yet. My fingers keep skimming over her clit languidly, and she whimpers quietly.
She gasps and grabs my wrist. “Wait.”
I stop.
Her eyes meet mine. “I don’t want your fingers.”
That does something to me.
“What do you want?”
Her answer is quiet and direct. “You.”
I kiss her once, then take my hand away and open my trousers with more urgency than grace.
I wince slightly.
“You’re bleeding again, I swear—”
“I’m not.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know I need to be inside you.”
That shuts her up. For half a second.
Then she whispers, “Condom?”
I pull one from my wallet.
Her eyes narrow. “Do you always carry those?”
“Yes.”
“Of course you do.”
“For emergencies.”
“This is not an emergency.”
I look at her.
She looks down between us.
Then back up.
“Fine,” she whispers. “It’s an emergency.”
I almost laugh, but there is no time.
I roll the condom on, push her underwear aside, and line myself up. The space is awkward and tight. My injured shoulder limits how I can move, and the shelf is too low, but none of that matters when I press into her and feel her body take me.
She grips the back of my neck and bites down on a sound.
“Quiet,” I say against her mouth.
“I’m trying.”
I push in deeper.
Her forehead drops against mine.
For a moment, neither of us moves.
She’s hot around me, her thighs locked around my hips, her fingers digging into my shirt. I have to breathe through the first few seconds because the need to move hard is immediate.
Then I start.
Short, deep thrusts at first because the space does not allow anything else. Her back presses into the shelf. Bottled water rattles beside her. She slaps one hand over the plastic to keep it from making noise, and the panic on her face almost makes me smile.
“Not funny,” she whispers.
“It is a little funny.”
“You are inside me in an office closet.”
“Yes.”
I thrust harder.
Her mouth opens, but she catches the sound in time.
I lean down and kiss her breast through her blouse, then start working the buttons open with one hand. She helps because I’m too slow and because she wants it too badly to pretend otherwise.
I pull the fabric down enough to expose her bra, then drag the cup aside and put my mouth on her nipple.
Her whole body jerks.
“Luka,” she gasps, too loud.
I lift my head. “Quiet.”
“You just—”
I suck her nipple again while driving into her harder and her protest dies.
I keep my mouth on her breast, sucking and licking while I fuck her in the tight space. She grips my hair with one hand and holds the shelf with the other, trying to keep us both quiet and failing in small, dangerous ways.
Every time I thrust into her, her body rocks against the wall.
Every time I suck harder, she clenches around me.