Page 25 of My Office Rival (Keep Your Enemy Closer #2)

JASON

S omething had shifted tonight. Cynthia no longer felt like an opponent, or not only that.

She felt like mine. Wrapping my arm around her in the bar, talking about her dating life, playing pool with her, it was all so damn normal.

Could I have something like that with her?

Why not? It was working now, wasn’t it? Well, working might be giving me too much credit.

I’d still shut down completely when she asked about my family.

I grimaced into the darkness of my bedroom. Just what every woman wanted. A man so fucked up he couldn’t talk about his past. Whose needs in the bedroom sent most women running.

The beer had sent me straight to bed when we got home, but now, in typical fashion, it was three a.m. and I was wide awake.

Might as well be productive. I scrubbed a hand over my face and swung my legs over the side.

The bed creaked, and I stilled. Shit. I crept from the room on silent feet, eased open the door, and slunk down the stairs to the living room.

At this time on a weeknight, I’d typically review a document or get some emails done.

I tried not to do that on weekends, though.

Mitchell already owned my days. He didn’t get my Saturday nights too.

Maybe some TV would distract me enough to fall asleep on the couch.

It was worth a shot. But first, another beer to make me tired.

Two hours later, I woke on the couch to a rustling noise in the kitchen.

My body went on high alert. Was it an intruder?

I hadn’t heard Cynthia come downstairs. I crept up and through to the kitchen, grabbing a decorative candlestick as I went.

The rustling happened again and then stopped.

I snuck up, closer, closer, and then sprang .

I pinned the intruder with my hips and it, she , let out a shriek.

“Ahh! What the fuck, Jason!”

I collapsed against her, holding her against the counter, as all the adrenaline fled.

Her heart fluttered under mine, the soft material of her lace-edged tank rubbing against my bare chest. Her hand crept up to push me back but stilled, her fingers a brand against my skin.

I closed my eyes against the scent and feel of her.

“Sorry. I’m a light sleeper, and I thought you were an intruder.”

“So you were going to brain me with a candlestick? I was looking for Advil.”

I huffed a laugh. “Sorry. Just give me a second.”

She shifted against me. The silk of her tiny shorts rubbed over my briefs. Oh no. Another one of those lacy sets. It whispered over my thighs and I swallowed a groan.

“Cynthia,” I said, through gritted teeth. “Please stop moving.”

“Why?” she asked. “Oh.” She froze, even as my erection grew against her stomach. I opened my eyes to see her biting her lip, and I promptly shut mine again.

“Yes. Oh. I just need a minute.”

She wiggled a little, and I bit back a moan, my shoulders shuddering.

When I was brave enough to open my eyes, they arrowed to where the strap of her tank top had fallen, exposing one smooth shoulder.

I traced over it with my gaze. She was so soft there, right where the hollow of her neck met her shoulder.

She smelled so good. That little divot was perfect for a gentle bite.

I looped one finger under the silk strap and slowly lifted it back up, mesmerized by the satiny feel of her skin against my fingers, even softer than the silk material.

The barest brush of my finger against her shoulder made her inhale sharply, those deep brown eyes already a little hazy.

She wants this. My blood felt thick, my head stuffed full of wool. Kiss her.

“Cynthia, I can’t re—” The words died as I dipped my head to hers and she tipped her chin up to meet me.

The movement brought our faces so close, the air pulsing between us, until just one tiny movement had her plush lips meeting mine.

Her soft sigh into my mouth was everything .

Fuck yes. I captured her mouth, kissing her deeply, wanting more, more, more.

She tasted delicious, just like I’d remembered.

She responded to me with soft, drugging sips, just like I remembered.

“Hell yes,” she muttered between kisses, and the words lit me on fire.

I speared my hands into her hair and deepened the kiss, angling her head so I could delve my tongue into her mouth.

She arched up against me in response. Every press of her hands on my chest urged me on, every sound she made went straight to my groin.

Fuck, she’s hot. Fuck, this was really good.

That one night hadn’t been a fluke. If anything, this was better.

My hands on her hips shoved her against the counter, and she groaned.

“Yes, Jason, yes.” Her words were breathy, needy.

I slipped seeking fingers under the straps of her tank and pulled them down.

The silky material pooled around her waist, exposing those lovely breasts to the moonlight and my mouth.

I pulled one nipple into my mouth, and she cried out.

She loves this. My hand came up to cup the other, testing the weight, teasing that soft skin.

She bucked against my hand and I tightened my hold. She moaned and triumph lit through me.

“You like that?” I pressed my thumb into her hip. “You want it rough?”

“Yes, yes.” Little sounds fell from her throat, and I lifted my head to kiss her again.

Kissing her was like lighting myself on fire.

Each slip of her tongue stoked the flames higher.

Each greedy sound made me want to give in, to let her take the reins.

You can’t. I used punishing hands and rough movements when I wanted to sink to my knees, to touch her only when she allowed it.

Stop, before you do something stupid. I jerked back.

Cynthia raised two shaking fingers to her swollen lips. “Holy shit,” she breathed. Her eyes were wide, her mouth parted in surprise. I would have laughed if it weren’t so utterly insane.

“I know, I know.” I braced myself against the counter, shaking with need. This is bad. This is really fucking bad.

“Guess that first night wasn’t just the vodka working its magic,” she murmured.

“Guess not.” Fuck.