Page 34 of More than Fiction (Misty Springs #1)

Sophia

After trying to break the clasp or rip the seams of the straps, I came to the mortifying realization I was going to need Corbin to help me.

A light rap sounded at the door before I could work up the courage to seek him out. “Are you okay in there?” Corbin’s muffled voice asked.

Oh. My. God.

I probably sounded like a confused baby elephant up here.

I was mortified.

I promise I’m a good hire. I really am smart. I just can’t figure out basic human life skills like getting undressed .

I opened the door, which caused him to practically fall into the bathroom. He quickly straightened himself, fixing his sleeves nervously.

“I can’t get the clasp undone,” I admitted. “Could you help me?” I turned so he could see the trap I was in.

It was embarrassing enough to deal with your certifiably crazy ex and his insane family in front of your new boss’s boss, whatever. I might as well end on the high note of needing his help disrobing me in his spare bathroom.

“Oh.” His voice squeaked slightly.

I moved my hair to the side, my body tense, and I swallowed hard as I felt his fingers on my skin, feather-light and gentle.

His touch bloomed from my spine right to my core—the slightest contact from him nearly euphoric, lighting up my body in a way that made me force back a moan .

I felt the pull of the straps as he twisted the clasp. They loosened over my shoulders as he unfastened it in one swift movement.

I released a shaky breath of relief, or maybe nervous energy. I couldn’t be sure.

The dress began to fall, and I quickly placed my hands on my chest to hold it.

If I let go, it wouldn’t necessarily fall down, but the top would be loose enough that he’d definitely get a healthy dose of side boob—and forget about wearing a bra with this dress—or underwear, for that matter.

His task was complete, but he didn’t move.

My back tingled at his proximity, my skin aching for more of his touch.

Silence stretched between us, the only noise coming from the hot water that continued to cascade from the shower head, enveloping us in a cloudy mist of steam. The mirror had fogged over, every surface slick with soft water droplets from the damp air.

“Thank you,” I whispered with a soft glance over my shoulder.

I met his stare.

His whiskey eyes were smoldering, and unlike before, the reservation was gone, replaced only by a fervent hunger. He took a deep, shuddering breath, his exhaled “you’re welcome” warming my neck, sending a wave of shivers down my body.

My voice was silent, but my mind was reeling—a chaotic storm of desire.

All thoughts evaporated the moment his fingers gently traced up my exposed spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

His touch lit me up everywhere—my nerves firing off all over my body, celebrating, screaming: finally .

He stepped closer, his firm body pressing against my back, lips brushing the nape of my neck.

“You don’t know how hard it’s been for me to keep my hands off you tonight.” His words tingled against my skin. They hummed beneath the surface, tingling every nerve ending.

My pulse throbbed—swelling in my chest, my head, in between my legs.

Once his fingertips reached the top of my back, he edged them along my shoulder until they met the strap of my dress.

His other hand grazed the opposite strap, slowly pushing them simultaneously off my shoulders.

He slid them fully down my arms, baring my chest—the rest of my dress clinging low on my hips.

My body was eager to feel his next touch, ready to accept anything he’d give me as he tiptoed across the line he placed between us. After spending so many nights wrapping myself up in blissful thoughts of him, I wanted it hot and fast—and now .

But Corbin had other plans.

His moves were slow and methodical. Calculated and precise.

“You’re stunning, Sophia.” He stepped around me, slowly circling me like a predator stalking his prey.

Except this prey was pent-up and ready to pounce back.

My fingers twitched at the desire to touch him, to fulfill every fantasy I’d been dredging up in my head since first laying eyes on him. But I was too intrigued, eager to watch him work, to stand still and allow Corbin Buescher to show me exactly what he wanted.

He reached out with his thumb to trace my bottom lip as his fingers gently nudged beneath my chin, forcing my eyes away from the defined lines of his chest peeking out from his open shirt, to meet his gaze.

His eyes turned molten when my tongue darted out to trace the pad of his thumb. Whatever self-control he was still clinging to unraveled.

He pressed in closer, and his hand grazed my cheek before his fingers dug into my hair, pulling my head back before crushing his lips to mine.

This wasn’t like the kiss outside of my apartment. One that felt like regret and apprehension. This kiss felt like a promise—a promise I was desperate for him to keep.

He tasted like whiskey and mint and fulfilled fantasies. His trademark smell of cedar and citrus filled every breath of my lungs. My hands ran along the smooth fabric of his designer shirt, feeling his solid body beneath.

He groaned as my hand danced along his abs, and the sound sparked a blazing color to burst behind my closed eyes.

Corbin effectively infiltrated every one of my senses—his smell, the feel of his muscles, the taste of his mouth, the sound of his heavy breathing, the blazing color behind my eyelids .

I couldn’t take the space between us any longer. I pushed my body into his. The smooth texture of his shirt felt luxurious against my bare chest.

I shifted my hips forward and felt the hard outline of him rub against me, the bottom half of my dress preventing me from getting the friction I desperately wanted.

I whimpered into his mouth, relishing how that made him lose more of his careful control.

He turned us around and pressed me against the wall, lifting my leg, the motion ripping the slit of my dress.

Good riddance.

Corbin pushed himself into me—the friction hitting me exactly where my body was craving.

I couldn’t stop the moan that escaped me. I released it into his mouth, and he echoed one of his own into mine.

There was no ex, no corporate policies. There were no reasons why this was a bad idea. There was only this moment.

Only us .

Consequences be damned.

His hand ran up my thigh, reaching my hip, and when he felt that I didn’t have underwear on, he pulled his lips away from mine, his lips twisting into a wicked grin.

“It’s a good thing I didn’t know you weren’t wearing anything underneath this dress while we were on that dance floor.

I don’t think I would have been able to stop myself.

” He ground his hips into me again, causing my head to lean back in ecstasy.

“We would have really given those stuffy pinheads something to talk about,” he drawled as his fingers trailed to the inside of my thigh.

His touch inched higher, testing, teasing, as his eyes watched mine intently. He brushed his fingers against me, exhaling sharply as he whispered into my ear, “You’re so wet for me, Sophia.”

His finger danced along my most sensitive area, applying just enough pressure to drive my hips forward, begging for more.

When his expert fingers plunged into me, I let out a ragged breath.

This. Him.

I needed his touch like I needed the air in my lungs .

He trailed kisses from my chin down my neck and along my collarbone as he continued to pulse in and out of me in a heady rhythm.

His mouth found my nipple, and he sucked as my fingers threaded through his thick hair.

He used his thumb to swirl around my clit. Each move, each drive into me, coiled my body tighter and tighter.

I rocked into his hand, my body greedily taking what it wanted from him.

His kisses trailed back up my chest, sucking along the way, until he nipped his teeth along my collarbone.

I cried out in a wild release, riding his hand as I came undone. The months of pent-up tension released a tremor that rocked through my entire body. If Corbin hadn’t been holding me up, I would have slid down the wall in a messy, satisfied heap on the floor.

Corbin pressed his head against mine, our breaths mingling in the humid air.

“Should we go in the bedroom?” I asked in a breathy whisper.

Then, like a sign, a punishment, or a bad omen, a low buzzing sounded from his pocket.

He pulled back, his eyes not leaving mine as he reached into his bulging pants. He quickly glanced at the number on the screen, and I watched as the blazing inferno in his eyes extinguished.

Anger welled up inside me that a call could distract him so quickly. But then I remembered who he was—an important man, with an important role, at an important company.

His face said it all—a flash of concern, followed by an apologetic “one-second” finger in the air before he turned to answer the call.

He stepped out of the bathroom as I strained to pry on his conversation. It was difficult to make out exactly what he was saying with the shower still running in the background.

“What’s wrong?” I heard him ask, irritation flickering beneath the layer of concern in his voice.

“… Buzz?”

“Why didn’t… call me earlier?”

Then he heaved a heavy sigh and gave a tortured glance over his shoulder at me, and I heard his next words loud and clear .

“I’ll be there in fifteen.”

He was leaving?

The realization sobered up my post-orgasm buzz, and the immediate sting of rejection settled on my skin.

He looked at me, his breath still slightly ragged. “I have to go.”

I nodded, my focus dropping to the dark gray grout lining the marble slabs of the floor. I watched him out of the corner of my eye as he fastened the top buttons of his shirt.

“I don’t want to. God, I can’t even begin to tell you how much I don’t want to.” He strode over to me and gently lifted my chin, allowing me to read the regret in his eyes. “I wouldn’t leave if I didn’t have to. It’s… important.”

I nodded again, this time keeping eye contact, hopeful the mask I wore was that of an understanding, cool girl—instead of a wreck of emotional turmoil.

“I’ll fill you in as soon as I’m back. Please, don’t leave. Promise me you’ll stay. That you’ll be here when I get back.” His voice was pleading, and it was impossible not to see the sincerity in his face.

“I’ll be here.”

Like I had a choice.

He took a relieved-sounding breath as his hand raked through his dark hair.

“Good,” he huffed, quickly turning away and striding out of the room.

The absence of his incredibly tempting face and body cleared my head. This was a mistake. We both knew this couldn’t happen—though neither of us had discussed the no-relationship policy openly.

Perhaps whatever force just interrupted us was right, and the feelings I’d been developing for Corbin were wrong.

The cell phone ring acted like a Pavlovian de-lusting response. Perhaps libido-away could be a sound trigger, like a hypnosis technique.

Regardless, as I watched him leave, the door closing on one of my most epic fantasies playing out—one thing was for certain—my life just got a lot more complicated.