Sweet Rivalry (1001 Dark Nights)(22)

“Wait! Where are you going?” The panic in her voice hits my ears, boosts my ego, and only makes it that much harder not to break stride.

It’s time to force her hand.

“You didn’t answer the question,” I toss over my shoulder.

“Ryder?” Desperation causes her voice to break.

I dislodge the first of the double doors from the wall and close it. “You have a history of running from me.” I secure the bolt so it can’t be opened from the outside. Not that it matters though because the last person left this office over two hours ago. We’re alone.

Completely alone.

“It’s not a hard decision. I’m not asking you for forever. I’m just asking you for tonight. For right now. To figure out what this is…and I’m not going to let you run away this time. Not until I hear you give me an answer.” Turning my back to her once more, I dislodge the second door and am in the process of securing it when she finally speaks.

“You.”

My hands falter, heart does too, before I step back and meet her eyes. She’s come half the distance and is standing there in those pink heels, with her hair falling out of her ponytail from where I held it when we kissed, and all I can think about is how I want to pull that hair tie out and watch it come undone as I make her come undone.

“What was that?” I ask, wanting her to be sure of her decision because once she says yes, there is no damn point of return for me.

“You, Ryder. The answer to your question, what do I want, is I want you.”

Thank f*ck.

We stare at each other for a beat, my dick telling me to hurry the hell up, use the desk, the chair, anything to ease this need she’s created inside of me. But my head is telling me to think this through. To be smart. To not put her in a position like the prick in New York did in any way, shape, or form.

“You sure?”

She gets this coy smile on her lips that makes my balls tighten in anticipation over whatever is to come next.

“Yes.”

The Ice Queen melts.





Chapter Twelve



Harper




I’m about to have reward sex.

The thought flickers and fades through my mind as Ryder crossed the distance between us with a slow, purposeful walk. His shoulders square, his eyes intense, his smile suggestive, and everything about him screams he’s about to take what he wants, no holds barred.

Thank God.

I don’t give a second thought to the fact that I haven’t won the bid to get the reward.

I don’t think twice to ask him to check that the door is locked.

I don’t question a single thing because thinking’s impossible right now.

“Harper.” It’s a question. A plea. A command.

And just like that I step into him. Into his arms and his hands and the steeled length of his body as our lips meet. The kiss isn’t gentle by any means. It’s packed with need and greed and is a manifestation of the pent up desire we’ve held at bay over the last two days and for the last thirteen years.

His hands are everywhere on me yet I still can’t get enough of them. And of him. His taste is a torment all its own. The way he teases with his tongue against mine is slow and seductive, driving me mad, and when I’m about to be drugged under by the subtle bliss of it, he changes tactics. He demands more from me. With his hands and his lips and his words and that little groan in the back of his throat that sounds exactly like how I feel—overwhelmed with need and dazed by this newfound, different type of desire I’ve never experienced before.

We’re slow and steady with a tinge of desperation. Our kisses, our encouragement, our movements. It feels like it lasts forever and doesn’t last long enough.

And then my hips hit the desk behind me, and it’s like a switch has been flipped, our bodies ready to sate and take and claim. We’re a desperate rush of movements. His hands pushing my blazer off my shoulders. My fingers working the buttons on his shirt. His slipping the cool silk of my camisole over my head. My hands on his belt and unzipping his pants. His fingers unzipping my skirt.

All the while our lips meet, then separate.

Hurry.

A lick of his tongue against mine.

God, I want you.

I nip his bottom lip with my teeth.

You’re gorgeous.

His lips on my neck, at that spot right below my ear.

I want to touch you everywhere at once and want to savor you at the same time.

His mouth on my nipple through the lace of my bra. The heat, the wetness, the pressure of him sucking, but muted from the fabric so it leaves me wanting more.

We can savor later. Just touch me. Everywhere. Now.

My fingers finding their way beneath his waistband to wrap around his cock. Our mutual groans when I begin to work up and down its long, hard length.

Christ, Harper. Fucking Christ that feels good.

The feel of his beard over my breast as his mouth finds his way back up my body, all the while shoving his pants down his hips to grant me better access to stroke him.

His mouth is on mine again with a fervent ardor. Gone are the sips and tastes. Now it’s heat and passion and urgency and demand. And then his fingers find their way between my thighs. I swear I try to remember to kiss him, but I can’t render a thought let alone make my lips move because I’m on sensation overload. His fingers part me, dip into me, and tease me before sliding back out, coated in arousal, and make their way to my clit. No, there is not kissing him back. There is only wanting to spread my thighs wider to enable him to touch me more.