Page 15 of Slap Shot (Charm City Chill #3)

They were sitting close together, adrenaline still humming from the digital battle they'd just fought. The air between them was charged with shared intensity and the relief of having solved the immediate crisis.

"I've been wanting to do this all day," she said, her hand reaching for his.

"Do what?"

"Touch you. Be close to you without pretending we're nothing to each other."

When she kissed him, it was with all the desperation of their situation, stolen moments, hidden feelings, the constant risk of discovery.

"God, I've missed this," he said against her mouth, pulling her closer.

"It's been twelve hours," she pointed out, but her voice was breathless.

"Twelve hours too long."

He lifted her to sit on the edge of her desk, papers scattering to the floor as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Even through layers of fabric, he could feel her heat radiating against him, and it made his cock twitch with want.

"We shouldn't," she whispered, even as her hands worked at his shirt buttons. "Anyone could—"

"No one's here," he said, his mouth finding the sensitive spot on her neck that made her shiver every time. "Building's empty except for security, and they don't patrol this floor on weekends."

Her pulse fluttered beneath his lips as he sucked gently at her throat. "How do you know that?"

"I may have done some reconnaissance." His hands found the hem of her blouse, fingers trailing over the soft skin of her stomach. "Had to know when it was safe to have you like this."

"You romantic," she teased, but her voice caught when his fingers skimmed higher, brushing just beneath her bra.

"Romantic enough to plan ahead so I can fuck you properly." The crude words made her gasp, and he smiled against her neck. "I've been thinking about bending you over this desk since the moment I walked in here."

"Oliver," she breathed, her hands fisting in his hair as he continued his assault on her throat.

"Tell me what you want," he said, pulling back to look at her. Her lips were already swollen from his kisses, her pupils dilated with want. "Tell me how you've been thinking about me."

"I want your mouth on me," she said, surprising them both with her boldness. "I want you to make me come with your tongue while I try not to scream your name."

The confession sent heat straight to his groin. "Fuck, Heather. The things you do to me."

His hands made quick work of her blouse buttons, revealing the lacy black bra underneath. "New lingerie?" he asked, running his thumb over the delicate fabric.

"I may have done some planning of my own," she admitted, her cheeks flushing pink.

"Christ, you're going to kill me." He unhooked the clasp with practiced ease, groaning when her breasts spilled free. "So fucking beautiful."

Instead of taking her nipple into his mouth like he had before, Oliver traced circles around the tight peak with his tongue, making her arch and whimper with frustration.

"Please," she gasped, trying to guide his head closer.

"Please what?" He blew cool air across the wet trail he'd left, making her shudder. "Use your words, sweetheart."

"Suck on my nipples," she said desperately. "God, Oliver, stop teasing me."

He complied with a growl, drawing the tight peak into his mouth and sucking hard. Heather's back bowed off the desk, a broken moan escaping before she could stop it.

"Quiet," he reminded her, switching to lavish attention on her other breast. "Unless you want security to find us like this."

"Then stop making me feel so good," she panted, her hands roaming over his shoulders and chest.

Oliver's laugh was dark as he worked his way down her body, pressing kisses to her ribs, her stomach, the sensitive spot just above her navel that made her squirm. When he reached the waistband of her skirt, he looked up to meet her eyes.

"Lift up for me," he said, his hands already working the zipper.

She obeyed, raising her hips so he could slide the fabric down her legs along with her matching black panties. The sight of her spread before him, completely bare and glistening with arousal, made his mouth water.

"So wet already," he observed with satisfaction, running a single finger through her slick folds. "Is this all for me?"

"You know it is," she said, trying to rock against his hand for more pressure.

Oliver knelt between her spread thighs, his breath hot against her most sensitive skin. "I'm going to eat this sweet pussy until you forget your own name," he said. "And you're going to stay quiet while I do it."

The first broad stroke of his tongue made her cry out before she could stop herself, her hand flying to cover her mouth. Oliver chuckled against her flesh, the vibration making her hips buck.

"That's it," he encouraged, using the tip of his tongue to circle her clit with maddening precision. "Let me taste how much you want me."

He alternated between broad strokes and focused attention, learning what made her thighs tremble and what made her bite down on her own hand to stay quiet. When he slid two fingers inside her, curling them to hit that perfect spot, Heather had to grab a pencil holder to keep from screaming.

"So tight," he murmured against her, pumping his fingers in rhythm with his tongue. "I love how you grip my fingers like you never want to let me go."

"Don't stop," she begged, her free hand tangling in his dark hair. "Please don't stop, I'm so close."

Oliver doubled his efforts, sucking her clit into his mouth while his fingers worked magic inside her. When her orgasm hit, she came apart with a muffled scream, her body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her.

He worked her through it, gentling his touch as she came down from the high. When he finally pulled away, his lips and chin were shiny with her arousal, and the sight made fresh heat pool in her belly.

"My turn," she said breathlessly, sliding off the desk and switching places with him.

Oliver's eyes went dark as she pushed him back against the desk, her hands already working at his belt. "Heather, you don't have to."

"I want to," she interrupted, freeing his cock from his pants and wrapping her hand around the thick length. "I want to taste you. Want to feel you hit the back of my throat."

The crude words from her usually professional mouth made Oliver groan. When she dropped to her knees and took him into her mouth without preamble, his head fell back with a harsh curse.

"Fuck, your mouth," he breathed. "So fucking perfect."

She took him deeper, using her tongue to trace the prominent vein on the underside of his cock before pulling back to focus on the sensitive head. Oliver's breathing became ragged, his hips fighting the urge to thrust into the wet heat of her mouth.

"Stand up." He tugged gently on her hair. "I need to be inside you. Now."

She rose gracefully, turning to face the desk and bracing her hands on the surface. She was completely bent over, her ass in the air and her back arched in a way that made Oliver's vision blur with want.

"Like this?" she asked, looking back at him with hooded eyes.

"Exactly like that," he growled, running his hands over the perfect curve of her ass before positioning himself at her entrance.

When he pushed inside, they both groaned at the sensation. This angle was deeper than before, more intense, and Heather had to bite her lip to keep from crying out.

She gasped, her knuckles white where she gripped the desk edge.

He started with shallow thrusts, letting her adjust to the new position before gradually increasing his pace. Each movement drove him deeper, hitting spots that made Heather see stars.

"Is this what you wanted?" he asked, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining control.

"Yes," she moaned, pushing back to meet his thrusts. "Harder. I need more."

Oliver's control snapped. He gripped her hips and set a punishing rhythm, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the quiet office. Heather buried her face in her arms to muffle her cries, overwhelmed by the intensity of sensation.

"Such a good girl," he praised, one hand sliding up her spine to tangle in her hair. "Taking my cock so perfectly. You love being fucked like this, don't you?"

"Yes," she gasped, her inner walls starting to flutter around him. "I love it. I love how you make me feel."

When his other hand reached around to find her clit, Heather came apart instantly, her orgasm ripping through her with devastating force. The sensation of her clenching around him triggered Oliver's own release, and he spilled inside her with a muffled groan of her name.

They stayed locked together for long moments, both trembling and gasping for air. When Oliver finally withdrew, he immediately pulled her into his arms, pressing soft kisses to her shoulder and neck.

"Okay?" he asked, his voice gentle now.

"More than okay," she said, turning in his arms with a satisfied smile. "Though we should probably get dressed before security makes their rounds."

As they cleaned up and dressed, a strange sense of peace settled over him. The immediate crisis was resolved, and despite all the complications, he had Heather, in every way that mattered.

"How long can we keep this up?" Heather asked, straightening her blouse and trying to tame her disheveled hair.

"As long as we have to." Oliver tucked his shirt in, then reached for her hand. "Whatever it takes."

"Even if it means sneaking around like teenagers?"

"Especially then." He brought her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on her knuckles. "Some things are worth the risk."

Heather's smile was brilliant. "Good answer."

As Oliver prepared to leave with Charlie trotting beside him toward the back stairwell, he was confident they'd weathered the worst of it. The attacks would continue, but they understood the threat now. His past was safely locked away, Heather was safe, and they were together.