37. The Corporate Fallout #2
"Then let me carry the shield for a while," he said.
He leaned down, his forehead resting against mine.
The proximity was electric, a buzzing hyperawareness that made the rest of the world—the stocks, the leaks, the ex-husbands—fade into a blur.
"We go to the lobby tomorrow. We tell the truth. And then we go home. Together."
I looked at him, at the steady blue of his eyes, and I realized that for the first time in my life, I didn't want to be the only person in the room with a plan.
I reached up, my fingers brushing the hair at the nape of his neck.
It was a small gesture, but it felt like a surrender. "Together," I echoed.
The tension in the room snapped, replaced by a sudden, desperate urgency.
It wasn't the polished attraction of a PR-mandated flirtation; it was the raw, jagged need of two people who had been through a war and finally found a safe place to land. Cooper’s mouth found mine, and the kiss was a collision—hard, demanding, and full of everything we couldn't say in front of a microphone.
His hands tangled in my hair, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us.
I wanted him—specifically, persistently, inconveniently wanted him.
I wanted to forget the sound of Rhea’s voice and the look of NovaWave’s stock ticker.
I wanted the heat of his skin and the way he made me feel like I didn't have to be perfect to be loved.
"Sloane," he groaned against my lips, his breath hot and ragged. "Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this since the first day you told me to get out of your studio."
"You’re so annoying," I whispered, even as I fumbled with the buttons of his henley. "You’re so relentlessly sunshine-y and optimistic and it’s completely ruined my life."
"Good," he said, his hands sliding down to my waist, lifting me effortlessly until I was sitting on the marble island. He stepped between my legs, his thick cock straining against his jeans, pressing into my heat. "I want to ruin everything until the only thing left is us."
He pulled my shirt over my head, his eyes darkening as they swept over my skin.
My nipples were already tight peaks, aching for the touch of his mouth.
When he finally leaned down to take one into his mouth, sucking hard, a sharp cry escaped me.
The sensation was a lightning strike, a direct line from my chest to the wet ache between my legs.
I reached for his belt, my fingers trembling as I worked the leather loose.
I needed to see him, to feel him. When I finally freed his cock, it was thick and hard, the tip already glistening with pre-cum.
It was beautiful in a way that felt like a secret, a piece of truth that belonged only to me.
I wrapped my hand around him, stroking from base to tip, and his head fell back, a low, guttural sound ripping from his throat.
"Now," I begged, my voice a broken whisper. "Cooper, now."
He didn't make me wait. He stripped off his jeans and my leggings in a blur of motion, his eyes never leaving mine. He was soaked with the same desperation I was, his body a map of tension and need. He caught my thighs, pulling me to the very edge of the counter, and positioned himself.
He entered me in one slow, agonizingly deep thrust. I felt every inch of him, the thick length of his cock stretching me, filling the hollow ache that had been growing for weeks. I gasped, my fingers digging into his broad shoulders, my pussy clamping down on him as if it would never let go.
"You feel... incredible," he hissed, his voice strained with the effort of not losing control. "So tight, Sloane. So perfect."
He began to move, a relentless, pounding rhythm that vibrated through the marble and into my bones.
He wasn't being gentle; he was fucking me with a possessive intensity that made me feel seen in a way that was almost terrifying.
I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, wanting to swallow him whole.
Every thrust hit my g-spot, sending waves of heat crashing through me, blurring my vision until all I could see was him.
"Look at me," he commanded, his hands fisting in my hair. I looked up, meeting those dark, hungry eyes. "I’m not Rhea. I’m not Noah. I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere."
The admission was the final crack in my armor.
My orgasm tore through me, a violent, beautiful erasure that made me scream his name into the quiet of the kitchen.
My pussy pulsed around him, clenching rhythmically, and it was the catalyst he needed.
He thrust one last time, hard enough to rattle the dishes, and exploded inside me.
I felt the hot spurts of his cum filling me, a silent confession of everything he had been holding back.
He collapsed against me, his heart hammering against my chest, his breath coming in jagged bursts. We stayed like that for a long time, tangled together on the kitchen island while the world outside continued to burn. The silence was different now—not a threat, but a promise.
Tomorrow, we would go to the lobby. Tomorrow, we would face the cameras and the lawyers and the fallout. But tonight, the only thing that mattered was the weight of him against me and the realization that for the first time in my life, I didn't have to face the dark alone.
I didn't sleep well, but I didn't care. I just watched him breathe in the moonlight, a man who had walked into my studio and accidentally taught me how to come up for air.