It’s petite and soft in mine, and even though the handshake is well over, her hand rests in mine, holding on gently as if to feel my skin.
My charming instincts take over, and I turn her hand in mine so that the back of it is facing up, and then I bring it to my lips, a half smile on my face. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I say, kissing the back of her hand like some French fucking troubadour.
No. Not the most professional thing to do, but it’s right in line with Christian Pierce’s usual playbook.
She blushes a deep red, then pulls her hand back as if I’ve given her an electric shock. “I’ve been giving some thought to a few strategies we could…” When she begins speaking, her voice is strong and clear, but I can’t look away from her, and I know she feels the same magnetic pull towards me because her eyes don’t leave mine. They can’t leave mine. Instead, they bore deeper into my soul, searching, searching.
The breath catches in my throat. I’m trying so hard, so fucking hard, not to step closer to her, to take her face in my hands, to put my mouth on hers…
She bites her lip. She actually bites her bottom lip. Her lipstick is the perfect shade for her skin, and her teeth stand out white against it. She bites her lip and she takes a smooth breath that hitches just at the end of the inhale, and I can’t take it anymore.
I step backward and turn, then reach out and tug at the door so it releases from its magnetic doorstop. With exaggerated patience, I lay my hands flat against the surface and press it closed until finally I hear the latch catch in the lock.
It takes me one second to scan around the door. The windows that surround it are indoor glass, completely opaque.
Then I spin on my heel and I go to her. I close the distance between us in three steps and I’m on her, so close to her that the fabric of my jacket brushes against hers, and I do what I’ve wanted to do since I saw her in the rain last week: I put my hands on either side of her jawline and pull her toward me, covering her mouth with mine, kissing her so hard and hot and deep that the rest of the world disappears entirely.
Quinn meets every movement I make with her own, her tongue dueling with mine. Her hands go to my wrists and she pulls down like she wants to pull both of us to the floor right here, right now, but instead she compromises and lifts up onto her toes so she can get more from this kiss, more of me.
A soft moan escapes her lips and I swallow it, moving one hand down and back so that I’m cupping her head, drawing her in, never fucking wanting this kiss to end, never wanting her to be any farther from me than she is right now.
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 fucking 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 fuck 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 fucking 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.