Logan doesn’t answer, at least not in words. He pulls aside my underwear, slides a finger into me, smears my essence, and then brings that digit to my mouth. I smell musk, a sharp smell with a tang to it. And his finger moves between my lips, mirroring the way he just touched me down below. I taste his skin faintly and myself strongly.
“That’s what you taste like,” he says, then rises to his feet. His hands grasp mine and he hauls me upright. “Time to go.”
“Where are we going?” I ask, even though I know.
“My place.”
I can’t help but glance down at the front of his jeans, which are visibly tented. I move toward him, wrap my arms around his neck, and then let a palm trail down his chest to the waist of his jeans. “Let me help you, first.”
He grabs my wrist, gently but firmly, and pulls my hand away. “I don’t think so, Isabel.” He tugs me sharply so I land flush against his chest. “All I care about is making you feel good. I could, and nearly did, come in my pants just watching you. When I’ve got you naked in my bed, I’ll get mine, trust me.”
“Doesn’t that ache? To stay hard like that?”
He shrugs. “A little. It’ll fade, and I’ll be none the worse for wear.”
“I want you to feel good too, Logan.”
His lips touch my throat, under my jaw, the corner of my mouth. “I will.” He puts his mouth to my ear and whispers. “I want you so bad, Isabel, so bad it hurts. But I also value our privacy enough that I’ll wait until I’ve got you alone at my house to let this go any further. If you touch me, any remaining vestige of control I might have will be gone.”
I’m frustrated, because my need for him is spiraling out of control. I want his flesh, I want to touch his hardness, taste him, feel him. I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything. Nothing matters but him.
Nothing matters but us.
This is about us, too. Not just him, not just me, but the both of us as a single entity, and that fact in itself is drunk-making.
He takes my hand, threads his fingers through mine. Leads me out of the conference room. It’s night, but what time I don’t know. The lights are dimmed low so the TVs provide most of the light in the office space. Pretty much everyone is still present, although all of them except three people are asleep on couches and curled up in beanbags. The three left awake glance at us as we exit the conference room hand in hand, and all three keep their expressions carefully blank and return a bit too studiously to the documents they’re poring over.
I lean closer to Logan. “I think they heard us,” I whisper.
He chuckles and squeezes my hand. “Actually, honey, I think they heard you.”
I blush furiously. “I’m sorry, Logan. I tried to be quiet.”
“No worries,” he says as we exit the building and he leads me down Forty-fifth to his vehicle. “They’ll be adults about it or they’ll find another job.”
“I don’t want to cost anyone their jobs,” I say. “It’s my fault I was loud.”
“It’s my company, my conference room. And also, I’m pretty sure I heard Beth and Isaac in there yesterday. Either that, or they were watching porn together instead of working.”
“You let your employees have sex and watch porn while working?”
“Hell no.” His truck, a big silver box on wheels I’ve been in once before, is parallel parked half a block away. It’s a Mercedes-Benz G63 AMG, I note. I wonder how much it cost; a lot, is my guess. “The computers and other devices provided by the company are for work use only, and I carefully monitor that. Porn is how you get wicked viruses, for one thing, and I don’t mean of the STD variety. As for sex, as long as they’re discreet and it doesn’t affect their working relationship, I don’t give a flying fuck what they do, or where they do it.”
“You’re a good boss,” I say, buckling in.
“I try. Basically, I remember how shit ran in the army, and I try to be exactly the opposite.” He laughs, although I don’t quite get the joke. “That’s only partially true. I learned lots of valuable skills in the army, including how to run a tight-knit group of people. You give them a small number of hard-and-fast rules that cannot be broken, and leave everything else up to them. In the atmosphere I’ve created up there, I can use a small space and a relatively small group of employees to get a ridiculously massive amount of work done. I pay them a fuckload of money, keep the mood loose and relaxed, let them work on their own time and at their own pace, sitting, standing, lying down, buzzed, whatever, as long as the quality of their work remains consistent.”
“Must be nice for them.”