11. Rowan #2
Erik rests one hand on the far end of the table, leaving several feet between us. "Because knowing you can handle him doesn't help me when another man puts his hand on you."
There's no defense hidden inside the answer. He knows he interfered and why I'm angry. He also isn't pretending he didn't want to do exactly what he did.
"You can't keep deciding that wanting to interfere means you should."
"I know." Erik stays where he is. "I'm trying to separate the two."
The argument I expected would've been easier. I know how to fight Erik when he decides he's right and everyone else needs to catch up. This version listens, admits when I'm right, and gives me room before I demand it. I stand and cross that room myself.
Erik straightens when I stop in front of him, but he doesn't touch me.
"You're very irritating when you listen."
He looks surprised. "I've been told I was worse when I didn't."
"That was probably me." I catch his jacket near the lapel.
"It was."
I kiss him.
He waits for the fraction of a second that gives me the chance to change my mind, then puts his hands at my waist and kisses me back.
This isn't the library or the safe house. There are two hundred people nearby, a reception still running, and a conference-room door with no lock I trust. Someone could walk in looking for a printer, a private phone call, or ten quiet minutes away from donors. I should care more than I do.
I push Erik's jacket from his shoulders and drop it over a chair. When he reaches for the hem of my dress, he stops with his hand against my thigh.
"Rowan?"
I nod, then put my hand over his and guide it beneath the fabric.
Erik follows the permission instead of taking more. I kiss him while he slides his hand higher, and voices in the corridor stop both of us. We stay quiet until the footsteps continue toward the ballroom.
I catch the front of his shirt and pull him closer until the edge of the table presses behind my knees. He waits for me to move again, and that patience does more to me than his earlier possessiveness ever could.
When he lifts my dress, I guide his hand where I want it. He strokes me through my underwear first, slow enough that I press my mouth against his shoulder when another group passes outside. Laughter fades toward the ballroom, and I hook one leg around his to keep him close.
Erik slips his fingers beneath the fabric and touches me directly.
I close my eyes when he finds my clit and strokes over it, then catch his shirt harder when he does it again. He watches me instead of guessing what I want. I shift my hips into his hand, giving him the answer without words.
Someone outside the door starts discussing quarterly giving levels. A laugh escapes me before I can stop it.
Erik pauses. "What?"
"I'm being fingered at a donor reception while someone outside discusses tax deductions."
His mouth curves against mine. "You brought me into the conference room."
I moan. "You followed me."
He keeps moving his finger. "You told me to."
"That hasn't worked this well for me before."
He kisses me before I can laugh again. His fingers move faster, and I grip the edge of the table when pleasure begins gathering low in my body.
I have to stay quiet, which somehow makes every touch sharper. When voices pass the door again, I bite Erik's shoulder through his shirt rather than make a sound.
He waits until the corridor quiets. "Do you want me to stop?"
"No." I pull his hand back when he starts to withdraw. "I'll tell you if I do."
He accepts the answer. Erik lowers himself between my thighs. I lean back while he pushes my dress higher, and the first stroke of his tongue across my clit sends a jolt through me hard enough that my heel knocks softly against the table leg.
I freeze, and we both listen. Nobody tries the door.
Erik looks up at me.
I shake my head. "Don't you dare."
He returns his mouth to my pussy as I brace one hand behind me while he works his tongue over my clit, changing pressure when my thighs start trembling.
The polished wood is cold beneath me, the corridor is far too close, and Erik is on his knees between my legs while university donors drink champagne on the other side of the wall.
The risk should make me stop, but it makes me wetter.
I catch his hair and pull him closer. He responds by sliding two fingers inside me, curling them while his mouth stays on my clit.
I have to cover my mouth when the orgasm hits.
My body shakes around his fingers, and I keep my hand over my lips until I can trust myself not to make enough noise to attract half the administration.
Erik stands and kisses me before I've fully recovered. I taste myself on his mouth, and the intimacy of it sends another rush of heat through me.
I reach for his belt. He catches my wrist, then releases it almost immediately. "Tell me what you want."
"You. Your cock."
That's enough for both of us.
I open his belt myself and pull his cock free. He's hard enough that the first stroke makes his breathing roughen. I wrap my hand around him again, enjoying the brief loss of control on his face before I guide him between my thighs. "I want you inside me."
He pushes into me slowly, giving me time to take him. I wrap my legs around his hips once he's fully seated and pull him closer.
"More."
He starts thrusting. The first few thrusts are controlled, almost careful, but I don't want careful anymore. I catch his shirt and drag him harder against me.
Erik understands. His next thrust pushes me backward across the polished table. I catch myself with one hand and tighten my legs around him while he drives into me again. The room is quiet except for our breathing and the muted reception beyond the wall.
"Harder." He grips my hips and gives me what I asked for. The table moves across the carpet, and we both stop.
A chair scrapes in the corridor.
I press my lips together, partly because we could be caught and partly because I'm trying not to laugh. Erik looks toward the door. "This is your fault," I whisper.
"You brought me in here."
"You followed."
"You told me to."
I shift against his cock while he's still inside me. "You're getting repetitive."
Erik looks back at me, and whatever answer he had disappears. He starts moving again.
I meet every thrust, keeping him close with my legs while the possibility of somebody opening that door stays in the back of my mind. He slides one hand between us and rubs my clit, and I have to bury my face against his shoulder when the pressure builds again. "Erik..."
He moves harder, and my second orgasm comes fast. I clamp around his cock and hold on while he keeps fucking me through it, each stroke extending the pleasure until I can barely stay quiet. Erik follows a few seconds later, pushing deeply and holding me against him while he comes.
For several seconds, neither of us does anything except recover. Then the reality of where we are returns.
I look toward the door. "We should probably stop occupying university property for unauthorized purposes."
Erik kisses my forehead before stepping back. "That sounds like a compliance issue."
I roll my eyes. "Don't ruin this by becoming the dean again."
"I'll try."
I stay on the table while he fixes my dress, then slide down and straighten his shirt. One side of his collar is folded under.
"Your jacket is behind you."
Erik retrieves it and puts it on. He studies me while fastening the buttons. "Your hair needs attention."
I use the dark presentation screen as a mirror and repair what I can. "That isn't evidence."
He chuckles. "It's substantial evidence."
"You sound pleased."
He doesn't deny it. "I'm trying not to."
My phone vibrates inside my bag. Harper's name appears on the screen when I extract it.
Tyler Garcia's disciplinary file was opened from the dean's office at 9:14 tonight. Erik better have been somewhere else.
I read the message again before checking the time.
Erik notices the change in my face. "What happened?"
"We came into this room at nine-ten."
He stops fastening his jacket.
I turn the phone toward him. "Tyler's disciplinary file was opened from your office at nine-fourteen."
Erik reads Harper's message, then looks at me. He hasn't been near his office since before the reception started, but somebody else has.