Dirty Rogue: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance(17)
In fact, I want her to be closer.
So much closer.
She’s like no other woman on earth. She doesn’t get smaller, more passive in my arms; she presses against me, she has her way with me, she’s a force to be reckoned with.
I have to get her in bed. I want to bend her over, give her a little taste of the power I could have over her, and then set her free again. The city might never recover from the f*cking fireworks.
The kiss gets hotter, sloppier, her hands are gripping my wrists tighter. I’m going to lose control. I’m going to lose control and bend this woman over the desk and f*ck her until—
The landline on her desk rings, the trill of it startling Quinn so that she jumps backward, her face flushed, her lips parted and puffy from the intensity of the kiss, and in two steps she’s at her desk, fumbling with the phone.
“Quinn Campbell,” she says into the receiver, and then she gives me a sexy little smile. “Thank you. You can send it up now.” She hangs up the phone carefully. “That was my assistant—lunch has arrived.”
As discreetly as I can, I adjust my rock-hard cock through my pants and step over to her desk, sitting down in one of the brand new seats. Something is beginning to dawn on me through the steam filling my brain from how f*cking hot that kiss was. All of this furniture is brand new. The chairs look like they’ve never been touched. The suitcase in the rain…it all falls into place.
I’d bet anything this is Quinn Campbell’s first day.
And we just made things a hell of a lot more complicated.
I look up at her, at the pink blush flushing her cheeks, at the light sparkling in her eyes, and realize that despite her professional tone, she’s struggling not to start kissing me a second time.
“Well,” I say, smiling at her like the cocky bastard I am. “Looks like we’ll be spending some time together.”
Quinn doesn’t speak. She just smiles.
Chapter 13
Quinn
I’m sitting across the desk from him, trying to eat the sandwich and salad that’s been sent up to us as naturally as possible. I’m doing my best to act like nothing happened between us and as if there isn’t this undeniably intense heat sizzling between us. I feel sunburned even with the office lights turned low. It takes every ounce of self-forced willpower not to let my hand visibly tremble as I lift each forkful of salad to my mouth.
Holy. Shit.
That was the hottest kiss I ever experienced, bar none. A tiny voice in the back of my mind whispers that it’s not appropriate, that I should never have kissed a client, that the timing is terrible, not to mention a million other reasons why I should stand up right now, march right over to Walker’s office, and tell him I’m not right for this position. Good God, my job—my job!—is on the line, and if anyone was to find out, if anyone was to see…
As loudly as my conscience is chastising me for the error of my ways, my entire body is screaming with passionate need. I need more of his touch. I need more of his lips. The space between my legs is steamy hot and soaking wet, almost begging me to strip off my clothes and have my way with him right here and now. There’s a sleek, modern sofa positioned near one of the windows that looks just perfect to accommodate a scorching hot, quick f*ck.
Jesus. The strength in his arms, the pressure of his hands—it tells me how powerful he could be if he chose to be, how dominating he could be over my smaller form, and that thought turns me on more than anything else. He seemed to like my feistiness and that I wasn’t going to automatically submit to him, but there’s one thing I can’t deny to myself—he’s more than a match for me. He’s not some shrinking pushover who would do shit like cheat on me with my best friend.
You don’t know that, my inner voice interjects.
Fine. I don’t know that. But what I do know is that our bodies collided with equal force. If I had let it go on long enough, one of us would have come out on top. I want it to be him. I want him to show me how much stronger he is than I am, and I’m no shrinking violet.
I swallow another bite of salad and it gets caught in my throat. I have to wash it down with a sip of ice-cold lemon water. The thick, heavy glass feels good in my hand, something to ground me even while my unbelievable desire makes it difficult to focus.
Still, I’m a professional, at the top of my game, and so I continue our conversation.
“Yes, we’ll be looking into different photo opportunities.” I’d like a photo opportunity with him in bed, naked, his body bare on the sheets so I could look at it as long as I pleased. “Do you have any philanthropic causes that you’d like to focus on over the next several weeks?”
Christian leans forward in his chair and finishes the last of his sandwich, not letting a single crumb fall to the carpet. His eyes stay locked on my face as he takes a sip of water, then raises one of HRM’s cloth napkins to his lips. His perfect, soft lips that minutes ago were slipping and sliding against mine like he was claiming me as his personal property.
I can’t say I minded.
“Yes,” he says finally, his half-smile caressing his words with an undertone of pure sex. “Pierce Industries is dedicated to reaching out to the homeless, and we also have fostered partnerships with several hospitals across the city to provide support for research and enhanced patient care.”