I can’t resist the invitation. Her skin is softer than a lamb’s. What does she put on herself? Unicorn tears? Jesus Christ.
“You are so fucking soft,” I mumble against her throat. “So soft and so fucking delicious.”
“And you are so very hard,” she whimpers.
Too hard. My cock could break her. My physical strength is too great for her. I shouldn’t be here, I remind myself.
“Adelaide, please,” I plead, breaking away from her sweet mouth. “Make me leave.”
She shakes her head numbly and tightens her legs around me, grinding against me. “No way. I’ve waited a long time for this.”
She’s waited?
Fuck.
Whatever scruples I may have had are gone. I need this skirt gone. I need her on some table. I need to be between her legs.
I swing her around, looking for some kind of surface to place her on. The only thing I see is her desk. It’s got bottles on it and papers and other shit.
I stumble toward it, tripping over a chair and nearly dropping her. She yelps in surprise or fear and clutches me tighter.
“I’m sorry. Shit.” I manage to get her to the desk and sit her on the edge, but in the process knock over several bottles. Goddammit. “Shit,” I repeat. I try to right the mess, and my big paws accidentally push papers onto the floor. I drop to my knees to gather stuff up, and my rock-hard cock screams in protest as it folds over in my jeans.
“It’s nothing, Cole. Really. I’ll get it later.” Adelaide jumps down from her perch and tries to help me.
Somehow, my shoulder knocks into the desk, and I watch in horror as her expensive laptop totters and then slides off the surface. It crashes to the floor, and we both wince at the sound of breaking glass.
The lust that fogged my mind since I stepped inside this office finally burns away. I push to my feet and look at the wreckage. Paper and broken bottles lie in a drunken, sodden mess near our feet. The computer is lying on its side, but the glass screen is clearly cracked.
The desk is askew and one chair has tipped over. Adelaide rises and pushes a hand through her hair. I turn away before I can see the dismay and disgust in her eyes.
“Don’t touch anything in here. I’ll get one of the Solberg boys to come over and clean everything up,” I tell her as I open the door.
“You’re leaving?” she asks incredulously.
“Haven’t I done enough?” I gesture toward the wreck in the room.
“So we made a mess. It can all be cleaned up.” She starts toward me. I hold up a hand to stop her. This is just a sample of the real havoc I’d wreak on her. Better I destroyed her office than I hurt her.
I don’t know how to rein in the animal when I’m with her. She makes me lose my mind. On the way out, I spot a pair of hiking boots in the corner. Fuck. I’d forgotten why I’d come over here.
“Don’t go with Pat Samson,” I say gruffly.
“Why?”
“He’s dangerous.”
“And you’re not?” She makes a frustrated sound at the back of her throat.
“Exactly. Stay away from both of us.”
The fallen expression on her face cuts me to the bone, and I leave before I bleed out in front of her.
4
Adelaide
I touch my lips as Cole storms out of my office, leaving a hurricane of destruction in his wake. Oddly enough, I don’t mind the busted computer or the expensive testers of scents that are now stinking up my office.
I mind that he left. I flung myself at the guy and he ran away like I was a leper. Jeez. That hurts a girl’s ego.
Still…he did kiss me.
In a daze, I ignore the mess on the floor and return to the chair behind my desk. I sit down and pull a drawer open. I should be cleaning up the spilled bottles and the papers. Instead, I pull out my bullet vibe.
Oh, come on. Like any girl wouldn’t have a vibe in her desk if she got to look at Cole every day. I hike my skirt up under the desk and push the vibe into my panties. God, I’m so wet just from that kiss.
I’m baffled as to why he ran. But that kiss—oh, that kiss—is going to fuel my fantasies for months. Years, even. I flick the vibe on, and a jolt sears through me as it starts. I begin to rub it against the hood of my clit as I close my eyes and picture Cole’s face, not angry with frustration, but dazed with lust. The smoky look in his eyes when my legs went around his hips. The feel of the bristle on his cheek as his mouth slid over mine.
I come nearly instantly.
???
Cole doesn’t come back, and my horny hopes die a slow and painful death over the next few days. And with the death of my hopes, irritation returns. Who does Cole think he is? He doesn’t want to take me camping—lord knows I’ve coyly hinted at it more than once—but he doesn’t want anyone else to take me camping either. Am I supposed to sit around and wait another three years for him to kiss me?
I mean, there’s only so much entertainment in this town, and my Netflix account is down to suggesting foreign art films because I’ve seen everything else.