Page 59 of More than Fiction (Misty Springs #1)

Sophia

The moment Corbin’s fingers met my skin, something detonated—hot, blinding, all-consuming.

This wasn’t just chemistry. It was nuclear, and it was breaking me down one slow, aching touch at a time.

His touch trailed higher, rotating to the inside of my thigh, slipping underneath the hem of my skirt.

“Do you ever think about me?” he asked in a deep whisper.

I nodded, the words every second of every day lodged in my throat.

He straightened in his chair, his hand fully buried beneath my skirt, his fingers trailing my soaked scraps of lace.

“You’re so wet for me,” he whispered in my ear.

“Always,” I breathed in response.

I hadn’t moved, still bent at my waist with my fingers hovering above his keyboard.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, almost pleading as if his resolve was too weak to resist without me ending it.

Rules. Policies. The reasons why we couldn’t do this circled my mind.

Those reasons vanished into thin air when his fingers pushed my panties aside and plunged inside of me.

I let out a breathy moan, my eyes flicking to the open door of his office. No one was here, but this still felt reckless—and thrilling .

“What if someone sees?” I asked with a sharp breath.

“No one is here,” he promised as his fingers moved slowly in and out of me.

I rocked into his palm, my body coiling tighter with every stroke .

The feel of his hands on me, finally bringing to life the dripping-wet fantasies I’d imagined every time I stepped into this office, was beyond anything I could describe.

I was sure we were already crossing a line—but I didn’t want to stop here.

I wanted to run past the line.

No, I wanted to erase the line completely.

“I don’t want you to stop, Corbin,” I panted. “I want more.”

He pulled his fingers out of me and, in one swift motion, he caught me by my waist and spun me around.

Gazing up at me from his leather chair, his amber eyes turned ravenous. He looked like temptation barely holding itself together—tortured, beautiful, and impossible to resist.

His hands slid back under my skirt, one of them leaving a trail of moisture from my arousal along my thigh, before forcing my thong down my legs.

After stepping out of the underwear, we exchanged one last heated glance before Corbin shot out of his chair, forcefully wheeling it into the wall.

His lips crashed into mine, and it felt like that split-second before a roller coaster plunges—pure anticipation turning into a rush that stole my breath.

I reached for his belt, hastily working the buckle. Our mouths met in frantic kisses, breaking just long enough for him to shove his pants down—then coming together again, harder, hungrier.

His cock sprang free, rigid and heavy. I wrapped my hand around its base, and his breath shot into my mouth. I began to stroke him, using beads of his precum to wet his shaft, letting me glide effortlessly up and down.

He broke our kiss, resting his forehead against mine.

“I fucking missed you, Sophia,” he breathed, his voice heavy with want.

“I missed you, too,” I confessed.

He hiked my skirt around my hips and pushed me down on his desk. My legs opened, allowing him to settle in between them.

I lined his hardened cock up to my entrance. Just the proximity of him—not yet inside of me, his head nudging me—left me in a frenzy.

I was wild and untamed, desperate to feel him inside of me. I no longer cared that we were in his office or that the door was wide open.

I didn’t care that we shouldn’t be doing this.

His hands settled on my hips, locking me in place as he buried himself fully.

We both let out moans of pleasure—of relief.

This felt inevitable .

We were two stars on a crash course, barreling toward each other. It was only a matter of time before we collided.

My legs spread wider, and Corbin pressed in closer, burying himself deeper.

Our breaths came out hot and fast, the silence of the office filled with nothing but our moans, exhales, and the rattling of the desk drawers.

I leaned back, my palms resting on the cool wooden desktop.

With one large hand, Corbin wrapped his fingers around my shoulder, his thumb pressing into the column of my throat—holding me in place so he could bury himself even further.

His other hand gripped my hip as he slammed into me again and again. Strong fingers dug into my skin, the pressure igniting every inch of my body.

Harder. Tighter. I wanted more —more of him, more of this. I wanted to feel him in every inch of me, to carry the ache of him even after it was over.

I wanted to wear this moment like a bruise.

His name ripped from my throat, no longer able to worry about getting caught—my mind as locked up as my body as the tension mounted.

I moved out of Corbin’s grip, pressing my chest to his and wrapping my arms around his shoulders.

His arms curled around my back, and he buried himself deeper, reaching a previously undiscovered part of me.

Then I imploded.

Every inch of my body lit up as my orgasm ripped through me—cresting with each thrust of Corbin’s hips.

I let out a slew of words, sighs, and moans .

I was mindless, unable to control what tumbled out of my mouth. I buried my teeth into his shoulder, feeling untamed and primal as I came completely undone.

Corbin moaned my name, his thrusts slowing as I felt him fill me from deep inside.

We stayed locked in place, our shallow breaths filling the space. Wrapped around each other, clothed except for where our bodies connected—our need too imminent to waste time removing anything more.

My muscles felt liquid, and my body was hot as I slowly clawed my way back to reality.

I’d never, never felt a need so dire.

Never been so desperate, so driven with need.

It was like something in me broke away, and suddenly, I couldn’t think past the need to have him—like a ship snapping free of its moorings and being swallowed by a raging sea.

Corbin slid out of me, his absence leaving me feeling empty, and I watched as he tucked himself away.

I stayed in place, too full from Corbin’s release to move.

The room was thick with the remnants of what we’d done—our combined scent lingering in the air as the flushed skin of my thighs cooled against the edge of his desk.

Corbin’s eyes found mine, something in them warring—like he was trying to win a battle inside himself.

For a moment, I thought he might actually say what I wanted to hear.

That there was something here to fight for. That he’d find a way around the no-relationship policy.

That we were worth it.

Instead, he said, “I’ll get you something to clean up with.”

I nodded, putting on a false smile, pretending the unsaid words didn’t sting. Pretending I wasn’t an idiot for expecting words to come out of his mouth that didn’t exist in his head.

We fit together so well, like two corresponding puzzle pieces—pieces you might have to spin a few times to get them to lock correctly, but they belonged together all the same.

When he walked away, I tried to find the right words to say, to express how I felt. Maybe all it took was one of us to speak up, to admit that we wanted more from each other .

His phone buzzed on the desk next to me. It wasn’t intentional—I didn’t mean to look—but the screen lit up, and my eyes betrayed me before I could stop them.

Cindy: See you tonight, babe ;)

My world tilted slightly, twisting my stomach into knots.

Babe?

I stared at the screen, my pulse hammering in my ears—the text message delivering a slap of clarifying reality.

That I’d convinced myself this was more than it was. That there was something bigger between us.

Even if he had feelings for me—whatever those feelings were—he wouldn't stick around once this branch was off the ground.

He had his life in New York.

His real life.

I was just… a temporary escape—a small-town fling.

Nothing special. Nothing more.

I couldn’t even be mad. Corbin and I never defined our relationship.

In fact, we spent most of our time discussing why this wouldn’t work.

But that didn’t stop the ache from spreading through my chest, the feeling of betrayal that he could look at me the way he did—make me feel the way I did—while he had someone else.

I almost had to laugh at myself for allowing it to happen again—falling so hard for someone who didn’t feel the same way. At least Corbin was upfront about not wanting to be with me.

I forced my eyes to dry and hardened my heart.

By the time he returned—two glasses of water and towels from the breakroom in hand—I’d built a wall around myself.

I cleaned myself up with a shy, polite smile, straightened my skirt, and smoothed my hair, tucking it behind my ears—all the while pretending nothing had happened, pretending my heart wasn’t shattering, pretending Cindy didn’t exist.

“Thanks,” I said, taking a sip of the water. It was cold, but it did nothing to cool the heat of my humiliation .

“This was… ” he began, his voice trailing off as his fingers brushed a stray strand of hair from my face. The touch was gentle, almost tender, making my resolve waver for a moment.

“Yeah,” I interrupted, forcing another tight smile and pushing his hand away. “We should try harder to avoid these situations in the future.” My voice came out cold, disconnected.

He paused, and a look of confusion filled his features.

“This can’t happen again,” I clarified, my words seemingly throwing him off guard.

He looked pained—or maybe he was just a good actor.

But I wasn’t losing my focus here. I refused to open my heart to someone who didn’t even want it.

“I guess, I thought—”

“We always knew what this was,” I interrupted with a light shrug.

His head recoiled slightly, his brows drawing together like my words had struck him. “I guess we did.”

I bent to retrieve my discarded thong, fisting it in my hand as I padded toward the door. I refused to look back, afraid of what I’d say and the weaknesses I’d expose if I did. I would not allow myself to be the pathetic girl, romanticizing a relationship only to get tossed aside again.

I closed the door behind me with quiet finality, leaving him and whatever happened between us firmly on the other side.

This had to end anyway—I just made it easier for both of us.