Plan B (Best Laid Plans #2)(43)

"You have a meeting with the group from Clemens in twenty-two minutes," James tells him as Kyle shuts the door behind us. Haha. Twenty-two minutes. I love how precise James is. We bonded on the elevator when I tried to get him to tell me if Kyle was an asshole to work for, to which he looked at me with wide eyes like it was a trick question until I said, "Relax, I'm not a snitch." Then we both burst out laughing.

"What's wrong? Is everything okay?" Kyle is running his eyes over me, tension marring his perfect brow.

"Yeah, everything is fine. I was just in the neighborhood." Crap, he probably rushed those people out of his office thinking something was wrong with the baby. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. I shouldn't have just stopped in." I glance around his office, feeling kinda stupid. I've gotten used to working out of cafés and thinking everyone can be interrupted in the middle of a workday. I can't just pop in while Kyle is working on things like opening the seven thousandth KINGS store. I suck at wife-ing. "I should go. I probably interrupted something important, like the amount of square footage each store needs to dedicate to kitty litter." I wave my hand in surrender for my very bad choices, which somehow ends up with me stroking Kyle's tie with my fingertips.

I've got a real thing for suits and ties, it's turning out. I never did before, but I think the baby is genetically modifying my interests and now I'm turned on by responsibility and security. I think I'm nesting. Like I've heard some women frantically clean and meal-prep in anticipation of a new baby’s arrival, but I think my version of nesting is being excited by new life choices. Like Kyle.

"It was a meeting on tax incentives the government is offering, but it was actually running over schedule so don't worry about it."

Hmm, tax incentives sound sexy, I think to myself while stroking the tie. See? There's nothing sexy about taxes. Not one thing. Somewhere deep inside of my logical self I still know that, but try explaining it to my baby-nesting-hormones self because that girl thinks it's hot. Last night I asked him to read an article from Forbes out loud while I fell asleep. When he asked if I was serious I told him it was for the baby, so he or she would know his voice. But that was a lie. It was for me. My pregnancy craving is listening to Kyle talk about boring stuff.

"Right. Now you've only got twenty-one minutes until your next meeting." I think I might be close to purring, for fuck’s sake.

"Daisy, did you come here to seduce me?" Kyle's voice is sexy low and it sends all sorts of excitement to all sorts of my places.

"Wait." My eyes fly up to verify if he's teasing me or not. "Is that an option?"

He smiles, but it's rueful, as if he's sorry he's about to disappoint me. Have I mentioned that Kyle has really nice eyelashes? Because he does. I hope the baby gets those eyelashes.

"It would be, except bad news. This door doesn't lock." He says this even as he presses me against it and kisses me. Weak-in-the-knees kissing. Soft kisses on my lips, then in that spot behind my ear, trailing down my neck. Warm lips on my collarbone and the heat of his breath against my neck.

"What 0n earth are you talking about?" I whine. "How can you not have an office that locks? You're important. You must have important documents and files and things that need locking."

Why did he even bring it up? Fucking tease.

"Hmm, no. Not really. Everything is digital, or with legal." He's worked his way back to my lips and his hands have moved to my hips, under my shirt. Warm fingers brush against my skin and this just isn't fair.

"Maybe we could do it right here, against this door, and then if anyone tried to come in you could yell 'occupied' or something and just shove the door closed?"

"Daisy," he says, a hint of laughter in his voice as if that’s a ridiculous suggestion.

"What?" My fingers have dived beneath the tie now, circling a button on his shirt, palm pressed against his abs.

"I was teasing about the lock."

Oh, thank Jesus. I hope this means—

"Undress and get on my desk."

Oh, my. Okay. I think I like where this is headed. I blink, trying to play catch-up, but Kyle is in dirty mode and apparently I'm taking too long.

"We're down to twenty minutes, Daisy. When I tell you to get on my desk, I expect you to be on my desk. Got it?" He's flipped the lock on the door and moved around me to take a seat in the chair behind his desk. He pats the surface in front of him, empty save for a closed laptop off to the side and a few errant pens.

I toe off my ballet flats as I unbutton and unzip my jeans, then stop to slide them over my hips. I glance at the near floor-to-ceiling windows wondering if anyone can see in, but Kyle tells me they're reflective so I trust him on that and kick my pants free. My shirt and underthings quickly follow, a trail of clothing from the door to his chair.

I join him on his side of the desk, sliding between him and the desk and boosting my naked ass onto the surface. Kyle flips his tie over his shoulder as if he's getting ready to eat a messy lunch and oh, holy crap, now I get where this is going. The fact that he's still clothed should have tipped me off but I was too distracted with my own disrobing and the windows and being in his office for the first time to keep up.

I blush. I know I'm blushing. But listen, fluorescent lighting combined with middle-of-the-day oral is no joke. I bite my bottom lip. Kyle smirks.