She’s more beautiful than I imagined. Everything about her screams sex and power. The worst part is, she knows it. She demands attention. Not even in the room for one minute and all eyes are on her.
I’m so distracted by her, I haven’t noticed that Grant has slipped his finger inside me. My body quivers in response. Chelsea’s eyes widen as though she knows exactly what’s transpiring. I want to push him off, tell him he’s being obvious, but I’m so lost in his ministrations I don’t. I clamp my legs tightly around his hand in protest. Perhaps Mrs. Lancaster deserves a taste of her own medicine. Who am I to protest?
My heart pounds in my chest. I’m going to come. I’m going to come, staring at Grant’s wife. I should be appalled. I should be ashamed, but I’m emboldened. He continues to pump his finger in and out, causing me to straighten in my chair. Chelsea’s wide eyes have all others looking toward Grant. Just like that, he stops . . . and I’m left hanging, desperate and frustrated. I want to object. I want to beg for him to finish. But I don’t. I can’t. We were almost caught by a room full of peers and the thought has me mortified.
By the time the meeting is over, I’m a ticking time bomb. I don’t even know what to do with myself. I’m anxious, aggravated, and feeling foolish. I’m not even halfway down the hall when I see Grant and he’s not alone.
He’s talking to Chelsea and he’s not happy. She looks like the cat that ate the canary as she smirks, turns, and saunters in the opposite direction. Her hips sway and her heels click. I watch her like a spectator who can’t get enough.
“Bridget.” Grant’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts. “My office, now,” he barks.
I head in his direction and move to sit, but I never make it. I hear the door close behind me, pause, and his body is behind mine in two steps, his hard length pressing against my skirt.
“Is everything okay?” I breathe out.
“It’s better now that I have you alone.”
I turn to face him. “Grant, stop.” I push him away. “What was going on with you and Chelsea?”
“I don’t want to talk about her. Not now. Not ever. She’s not our concern.” He whips me around so my back is against him once more. “You were so close to me that whole damn meeting, soft and wet against my hand. I could almost imagine how you taste. The thought lingered through my mind the entire time. I didn’t hear a word anyone said.”
“You could’ve fooled me with all of your tyrannical questions,” I tease, liking this. The way we are right now. No estranged wives or room full of onlookers. Just us.
“Tyrannical, huh?” He chuckles and pulls me closer, his mouth coming down to trail kisses on my neck. “I had to pretend I was listening.”
It’s my turn to laugh.
“I need to satisfy my curiosity.”
“Curiosity about . . . ?”
“If you still taste like dessert, Bridget.”
Tingles course their way down my spine. My already soaked panties dampen even more.
“I know it will haunt me all night if I don’t have you.” His hand reaches between my legs and he dips his finger in and out. He pulls them away from me and the sound of him sucking his finger makes me convulse with need.
“I want more, and then I need to be inside you.”
I don’t object. Just turn around and stare at him.
“If you want it, take it.”
He steps forward, caging me in against his desk. He lifts me up so I’m perched before him, a willing prey to a predator.
“Spread your legs,” he commands. “Let me see all of you.”
I do as instructed, practically salivating with need.
“Lean back on your elbows.”
I groan, lifting my hips. Trying to meet his finger.
“What’s wrong, Bridget? Do you need more? Are you desperate for it?”
My whimpers ring out. I don’t care if anyone hears. This is almost too much. I want him too much.
“I’ll take care of everything. I’ll give you what you want. What you need.”
He does. He gives me everything I need as his tongue swipes from one end of my core to the other. As he circles my most sensitive spot, my vision gets hazy. He’s literally undoing me. His tongue thrusts at my opening, begging for entrance, but it’s not his tongue I want. I need him inside me.
“Please, Grant. More. I need more.”
My words stop him cold. All the buildup of moments ago is snuffed out in an instant. I don’t know what I said, but he’s gone still and isn’t saying anything. I’m confused, per usual, and feeling foolish when he finally speaks.
“You know I want to give you more, right?” He stands and looks at me. “I’m only capable of this for now. I want to be honest with you, always.”
“I know. I don’t understand everything going on between you and Chelsea, but I know what we have is something more than a fuck on a desk.”
“So much more, Bridget. There are things you don’t know—”
I cut him off. “I don’t care about that right now. I know what I’m getting myself into. All I want is this. You’re all I want. As long as you feel the same way, we’ll navigate this together. I need this. I need you, Grant.”
“You mean everything to me. I’ll fight for us if you will.”
“Yes.”
He pulls me into his arms and seals his lips against mine.
I expect him to take me like he did before. To fuck me on his desk, but he moves away and looks at me with hungry eyes.
“Off the desk.”
I follow.
“Turn around.”
I do.
“Brace yourself.”
I lean forward and comply, my arms bracketing in front of me on his desk. I hear the familiar sound of a condom wrapper. He enters me with fast slams of his hips.
“All day long. All day I’ve been thinking about fucking you like this. Bridget, you drive me crazy.”
“Good,” I breathe.
“Just be here.” Thrust. “Now.” Thrust. “Fuck tomorrow.” Thrust. “Fuck everything.” Thrust. “Just let me fuck you.” Thrust.
Primal.
Primitive.
“I fucking need this. Need you,” he groans into my neck.
“Then have me.”
I fear my words will come back to haunt me. As much as I delude myself into thinking this is enough, the little voice inside my head is screaming at me.
I’ll lose my heart to Grant Lancaster and I’ll never get it back.
It’s been a few days since I had my way with Bridget, and we’re trying to be more careful, but fuck if I actually care at this moment if we get caught. I should call her in here right now. I start to imagine what she’d look like on her knees before me. But just as I’m daydreaming of her mouth around me, the door to my office swings open and someone comes barreling in. At first, I expect it to be Bridget having changed her mind about our agreement, but it’s not. The room feels stifled and I instantly know who it is. I’m not sure how he got in, or what he’s doing here.
“Spencer,” I grate.
Seeing him here in my office feels . . . wrong. My betrayals seem so much bigger than before as he looks around at what I’ve built. The company built to be in direct competition.
“Grant,” he responds back coldly. His hard stare penetrates me, making me feel small despite the fact I’m taller and broader.
“To what do I owe this honor?”