Page 26 of Executive Privilege

"Just finishing up the Morrison logistics. I want to make sure everything's confirmed before we leave Tuesday."

Nicholas pulls up the chair beside my desk, without asking this time.

"Are the Morrison executive interviews booked?"

"Scheduled for Wednesday and Thursday morning. I've the individual profiles for each team member, including talking points that should feel natural rather than scripted."

"Thorough," he says, his voice lower than before. "You've identified personality types, communication styles, even potential topics that would resonate with different audience segments."

"I figured the more we know about their individual strengths, the better we can tailor the content."

I can see the moment his professional facade starts to crack. His eyes drop to my mouth, then back to my eyes, and the air between us becomes stills.

"Sadie," he says quietly, and there's heat in his voice has me tingling immediately.

"Nicholas." I turn in my chair to face him fully.

"I'm sorry I've been so cold today."

"You were following our agreement. Keep things professional at work."

"Fuck our agreement," he says, inching closer. "I've been thinking about you all day. About last night. About how you felt."

His hand comes up to cup my face, but then stops. "I told myself I could keep this compartmentalized. Work here, everything else somewhere else. But I can't stop thinking about the sounds you made when I—"

I lean forward enough to whisper, "I loved how hard you fucked me against my wall."

"My office," he says. "Now."

We gather our things and try to look professional as we walk across the empty office floor. But the moment his office door closes behind us, we're on each other with desperate hunger.

"Lock it," he says, backing me toward his desk.

I reach behind me to turn the lock, and when I face him again, the look in his eyes takes my breath away.

"Come here," he says, and the command in his voice sends heat straight through me.

He lifts me onto his desk, standing between my legs as his mouth finds mine. His hands slide under my skirt, fingers finding the edge of my underwear.

"I told you I wanted to devour you," he reminds me, his voice rough with desire. "I meant it."

He drops to his knees in front of me, pushing my skirt higher as his hands slide up my thighs. His fingers hook into my underwear, pulling them aside as his mouth finds my inner thigh first, teeth grazing the sensitive skin there.

"Nicholas," I breathe, my hands gripping the edge of his desk.

When his tongue finally finds where I need him most, I have to bite my lip to keep from crying out. He works me with deliberate precision, alternating between slow, broad strokes and focused attention that has me trembling within minutes.

"Quiet," he murmurs against me when I make a soft sound. "Anyone could walk by."

The reminder that we're in his office, that the door is locked but people could still be in the building, only makes everything more intense. I'm gripping the desk so hard my knuckles are white, struggling to stay silent as he brings me closer to the edge.

When I'm trembling and breathless, right on the verge of coming apart, he pulls away.

"The couch," he says, his voice strained with control. "More room."

He helps me down from the desk, and we move to the leather couch in his office seating area. The moment we sink into the cushions, his mouth is on mine again, hands working at the buttons of my blouse with urgent precision.

"Nicholas," I breathe as he pushes the fabric aside, his mouth trailing down my throat.