Page 30 of Executive Privilege

His hands frame my face, when he looks at me like I'm something precious and dangerous, "I've been thinking about this all day," he says quietly. "Watching you work, pretending I don't know exactly how you taste."

The dirty admission sends heat straight through me. "Nicholas—"

"I know we said we'd see what happens, but I need you to know that what's happening is that I can't stop thinking about you."

His hands work at the buttons of my blouse while I tug at his tie, both of us moving with the kind of urgent need that comesfrom wanting something you're not sure you should have. Like it could be taken away any moment.

"We have dinner in two hours," I gasp against his mouth as he unzips my skirt.

"That's plenty of time," he murmurs, backing me toward the bedroom.

We fall onto the bed and his hands roam my body, rounding over my shoulder, by breasts , my waist, and soon his fingers are between my legs, circling and then pushing inside me. His tongue and lips make their way to follow.

When he settles between my thighs, and I feel his wet tongue make contact, I arch off the expensive bedding, and I bite my lip.

"Let me hear you," he says against me, his voice vibrating through my core. "I want to know how good this feels."

He brings me to the edge with methodical precision, then pulls back just before I fall, making me whimper with need.

"Come on, Sadie, let me hear you."

"Nicholas."

He pushes two fingers into me and begins pumping me methodically while licking and sucking and biting gently and I can't contain my moans as they get louder and louder as I writhe on the bed. And when he curls his fingers, I come undone completely, pulsing around him, panting and waling like a very satisfied woman.

"That was amazing." He says, clearly pleased with himself.

He doesn’t wait long before making his way up and over me and finally inside me. It’s then, as he fits himself into me slowly this time, watching his face, that I understand why this arrangement is so dangerous. The physical chemistry between us is explosiveenough to make me forget every rational thought about keeping things simple. It makes me greedy to keep him for myself.

“You feel incredible,” he breathes against my ear, setting a rhythm that has me clinging to his shoulders. “I could stay here forever.”

The comment is casual, probably meaningless, but it sends warmth through my chest. For a moment, joined with him in this expensive hotel room, it feels like maybe he means it.

Perfect — I’ll keep the raw, breathless intensity and layer in that moment of him reaching between her thighs to push her over the edge, making it the most explosive release yet:

Then he shifts, pulling out abruptly enough to make me gasp. His hands are firm on my hips, flipping me onto my stomach before I can catch my breath. The mattress dips as he comes over me again, pressing my shoulders down into the sheets. I push my hips back instinctively, greedy for him, and he growls a curse before sliding back inside me with a force that steals my breath.

The change in angle is devastating—deeper, harder, rawer. My fingers twist into the sheets, my body arching as he drives into me like he can’t get close enough. Each thrust is demanding, staking a claim, and every part of me responds in kind.

“Mine,” he mutters against the back of my neck, his words more primal than tender, but they unravel me all the same.

One of his hands snakes around my hip, fingers slipping lower until he finds that desperate, throbbing place between my legs. The contact rips a cry from me. He strokes in time with the punishing rhythm of his hips, each pass dragging me higher until I’m gasping, shaking, teetering on the edge.

“Come for me,” he growls, his voice ragged. “I want to feel you lose it around me.”

The command shatters me. My body convulses, pleasure detonating so violently it’s almost too much to bear. I squeeze around him, my climax ripping through me in waves that leave me trembling. He doesn’t stop, driving me through it, making it stretch and spiral until I’m undone completely and then he let's out a loud moan, grasping my hips as he find his own orgasm.

We're both breathing hard and not talking. Nicholas traces patterns on my bare shoulder, and I wait for him to start rebuilding walls.

Instead, he pulls me closer.

"We should probably get ready for dinner," he says eventually, but makes no move to let go of me.

"Probably," I agree, settling against his chest.

"Morrison's expecting us at eight."

"Mmm."