Page 108 of Boyfriend of the Hour

His chest brushed against the front of my dress. I wondered if he knew how sensitive I was to just his presence. If he knew I wasn’t even wearing a bra with this dress, and if he looked down, he’d see exactly how he was affecting me.

This wasn’t right. This didn’t feel like pretend anymore. Charlotte wasn’t in the room. None of his coworkers were present.

I wasn’t sure I cared.

“She isn’t what?” I dared him, tugging lightly on his tie.

I looked up and found Nathan’s deep brown eyes pinned to my mouth.

He licked his lips. “She isn’t you.”

His lips descended on mine, this time accompanied by a hand at my back and another that slipped into my hair and pulled just enough to make me moan. Nathan seemed to take it as an invitation as his tongue slipped in to greet mine, dance with it a bit, before he explored the rest of my mouth, sucking, licking, biting at my lips until I was panting into his.

The hand in my hair slid down as we kissed, wrapping around my neck, flattening over my sternum, and then slipping beneath the cowled neck of my dress to close over one breast. His mouth traveled over my jaw, licking and biting at my neck while his hand squeezed and kneaded my breast with a tight, consistent rhythm.

Nathan’s entire body shuddered.

I couldn’t help but quiver right back in response.

“Perfect,” he mumbled against my skin. “So. Fucking. Perfect.”

I purred as my hands slipped into his hair, curls so soft and lush. My God, his mouth was perfect. His touch, too. Most men veered too far in one direction or the other, but Nathan’s hands, a surgeon’s hands, were trained in finesse. Equal parts rough and tender.

The thumb that had previously tortured my wrist now brushed delicately over my nipple, toying almost reverently before he tugged the loose neckline down with a slight tear and took the nipple into his mouth.

I gasped.

Worship.

There was no other word for what Nathan was doing with each flick, each suck of his tongue and lips.

This was no boy bumbling around in the back of a friend’s car or a drunken fumble after too many drinks at the bar. Nor was hesome preying older man looking for one thing from an innocent young girl.

This was a man, pure and simple, doing what so many of them could never manage in the presence of a woman.

Adoring her.

Revering her.

Worshipingher with every nip of his teeth, every swirl of his tongue.

I fell back, only to be caught by Nathan’s other arm, suspended at his mercy as my legs fell open, urging him to grind his erection into me through the wool of his pants and the thin lace of my new lingerie.

I realized at that moment that I’d never understood what real passion was. Never with any partner—not even Shawn—had I really felt what it was to be prized. Cherished. Not until this night, this moment, in this office, with this boyfriend.

Fake boyfriend.

Fake.

“Well, good night—oh!”

Whether it was the word echoing through my mind or the sound of Charlotte’s voice, I suddenly felt like a bucket of cold water had been tossed over me. Nathan froze, then immediately straightened, taking me with him as he pulled my dress back into place.

I didn’t dare look in her direction, choosing instead to lay my head on his chest and stare at the wall. She’d see everything written across my face.

Desire.

Guilt.