Jesus, he was a sick fuck.
He found her at a desk in the office behind the kitchen area, counting out the day’s bank deposit. Her tongue poked out of the corner of her mouth in concentration, and the sight of the pink tip peeking from between her purple-painted lips was somehow both adorable and insanely erotic. For a second, he could only stand there and fantasize about all the things that tongue could do to him, and the room grew uncomfortably warm. He loosened his tie, tried to find a train of thought that was less…explosive.
“Uh, you seem to have settled into the life of a responsible adult.”
She held up a finger in a classic hang on gesture and finished counting, then wrote down the amount and stuffed the bills into a plastic deposit bag. She dragged her tongue over the flap and sealed it closed, then smirked up at him. “Word of advice, Hershey. Insulting me is not the best way to get into my skirt.”
“It’s Reece. And what makes you think I want into your skirt?”
Her gaze dropped pointedly to the front of his trousers. “That boner you’ve been rocking since you walked in wasn’t enough of a clue? Unless you’re just really turned on by coffee. In that case, weird. But to each his own.”
Reece shifted on his feet and, as unobtrusively as possible, folded his hands together in front of his body. At that moment, he kind of wished he’d melt into the floor, because the heat burning across the back of his neck almost surely meant he was blushing. And he didn’t blush. Goddammit. “It’s not…uh, I-I’m not…”
“Oh, you mostly certainly are, sweetie.” Standing, she gathered the deposit bag and turned to the wall safe behind the desk. Once the money was closed inside, she propped herself on the edge of the desk and studied him, amusement dancing in her eyes. “You’re cute when you’re flustered. I like that about you.”
“I don’t get flustered.”
She raised a sculpted brow and the hoop there glinted in the overhead lights. Her expression said it all—the hell you don’t—and frustration roared through him, chasing away the embarrassment. Nothing ever went smoothly when Shelby was involved. Nothing was ever easy, and if he had any goddamn sense left in his head, he’d bail out now.
Instead, he dropped his hands to his sides and stalked forward, not entirely sure what he planned to do until he caged her against the desk with an arm on either side of her body and crushed his lips to hers. He just couldn’t stand not knowing if her kiss was as spicy as her attitude. And, holy fuck, she ignited in his arms as if he’d set a match to her. Fingers raked through his hair, nails dug half-moons into his scalp. Even though he was the one who had her caged, he suddenly felt trapped, captured.
Never breaking contact with his mouth, she pulled herself up to sit on the desk and used his tie to drag him into the spread vee of her legs. His mind scrambled through all the reasons they shouldn’t be doing this.
She was Eva’s little sister.
Cam would kill him.
They were in her boss’s office…
And his body was saying who the fuck cared? He needed her out of his system. He needed to be able to think straight again and not like a teenager with his first crush. Most of all, he needed her to scream his name. His real name, not the stupid candy-themed nicknames.
He broke away from her lips and went to his knees in front of her, trailing his hands from her hips to her knees and then back up her inner thighs.
She wasn’t wearing panties. Why did that not surprise him? And she was all slick and soft and she moaned when he parted her, slipped a finger inside. Her inner muscles clenched, and he liked the tremble that shook through her body. He added a second finger, watched her head fall back and her nipples bead against the fabric of her tank top. He smiled before adding his mouth to the action, tasting her, circling her clit with his tongue until she finally cried out something that might have been his name. He couldn’t tell with the roaring inside his head and his own body about to combust—
Shit. What was he doing?
He jerked away from her and, panting, stumbled several steps back.
“Reece?” His name came out on a surprised gasp. “What’s wrong?”
Jesus. What wasn’t? This was all wrong. His attraction to her and…everything. “I should…leave. Yeah. I’ll go.”
She was leaning back on the desk with her thighs parted, eyes heavy, cheeks flushed, but at his words, she bolted upright. “What?”
He still tasted her on his lips, and it took far more willpower than he imagined to walk the six feet to the office door. “Go home, Shelby. This never happened.”
“What?” she said again.