Stripped Bare (Stripped #1)(88)

I'd show her ass if she carried on—except it'd be hers in the air in front of me.

I pushed the door open and carried her up the stairs. She slumped halfway up, giving up the fight, and sighed with resignation. She could pretend all she liked. I could feel her heart beating against her chest when I put her down at the top of the stairs and pressed her against the door to kiss her.

The way she gripped my collar with one hand and kissed me back just as hard as I kissed her gave her away too.

“Your own fault,” I said in a low voice, opening the door to the office and pushing her through. She dropped her purse to the floor. “You wear those f*cking skirts with those shoes and I'm not responsible for how hard I f*ck you when I get you out of them.”

“Dirty,” she muttered.

I slammed the door behind us and pushed her back onto the sofa. She fell back with a smile stretched across her face, and I leaned over her, my hand sliding up her thigh beneath her skirt. Her skin was soft against my palm, and I kissed her deeply as she dove her fingers through my hair.

Still couldn't f*cking believe she was mine.

My cock pressed against her lower stomach as her skirt rode up around her hips and she wrapped her legs around my waist. Yeah—she complained about how much I loved touching her until her * got wet. Then I couldn't touch her enough.

My girl had a greedy *, and I loved it.

She reached between us and unbutton my shirt before she shoved it down over my shoulders. Her nails skimmed across my skin, leaving goose pimples in the wake of her touch. I shuddered when her hands dropped to my waistband, and then—

“Oh, Jesus,” Beck groaned. “Can't you get a f*cking room?”

I released Mia's mouth and dropped my head forward as she scrambled back on the sofa and pulled her skirt down. “We have one.”

“A private room,” he shot back, walking straight through into the kitchenette.

Mia sighed and straightened herself out. Her green gaze swung to mine, and she pursed her lips, but she was smiling behind her mock annoyance. “And that's why we need to stop having sex at work.”

I made a mental note to pencil in sex time at least three afternoons a week when she was working in one of our clubs.

I got up and shrugged my shirt back on. “He sounded pissed off. Just me?”

She shook her head, running her hands through her hair and shaking it out. “No. He sounded really mad.” She pulled off her shoes, then stood and walked toward the kitchen.

Beck beat her to it, appearing back in the main office. He had a tight grip on a glass of water if the whiteness of his knuckles had anything to go by. But it wasn't his grip that had me staring at his hand.

“What?” Beck snapped, looking at me. “Never seen a guy hung-over before?”

I scratched my jaw, my lips forming a smirk despite my best efforts. “Yeah. Seen you hung-over more times than I can count. Never seen you with a f*cking wedding ring on your finger though, have I?”

Mia gasped and grabbed his arm before he could hide it. Water sloshed out of the glass onto the floor, and Beck put the glass on the desk as she clawed at his hand.

“Beck!” she cried. “What the hell?”

He tried and, surprisingly, failed to get his hand out of her grip. “I meant to take it off.” He covered the plain, white-gold band with his other hand.

Mia smacked it away. “Take it off? What the hell did you do last night?”

“Yeah...” I was confused. I was the f*cking idiot who got married on the fly, not Beck. For all his jokes, relationships were one thing he took deadly serious. “Shit, man. You had dinner with us at six then went to work. The f*ck did you do?”

He finally managed to pull his hand away from Mia and tucked it into his pocket. “Involved a woman and tequila. Will you leave it at that?”

“No!” Mia shrieked. “Leave it at that? No. Tell me what you did right now.”

“Leave it, gorgeous,” he said to her.

He was still the luckiest son of a bitch I didn't punch him every time he called her that. He was basically my brother, and I knew it was just his term of affection for her. Like she called him sweetie. Mostly when he was being a dick.

“No. Sweetie, I don't understand how 'involved a woman and tequila' involves you wearing a wedding ring.”

Like that.

Beck sighed heavily and dropped onto the end of the sofa. He buried his face in his hands and shook his head. “Finished work early. Met a woman. Got drunk out of my mind. Got married.”

“Get an annulment then,” I told him. What was the f*cking problem? Apart from the obvious.

“Can't.” He slid his gaze to me. “I f*cked her after.”

That was the problem.

“Beck.” Mia said his name softly and sat next to him. “What are you gonna do?”

He blew out a long, tortured breath and looked at the wall. “Wait until she comes into work next and talk to her about a quickie divorce, I guess.”

“Wait.” I leaned forward. “What the f*ck do you mean you're gonna wait until she comes into work? Are you telling me you got a member of staff drunk, married her, then f*cked her?”

“Yeah. One of the girls. She was off her game so I took her for a chat, threw back a couple of shots with her—”