Page 48 of The Write Midlife

His glare lifted, his eyes locked on hers as he slid two fingers inside her, curling them to hit that spot that made galaxies explode behind her eyelids.

"Come for me, Melody," he growled, his voice low and commanding. "Let me taste you."

And she did. She came undone, her body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed over her. Nate stayed with her, his mouth and fingers drawing out every last bit of her orgasm.

She slumped forward onto one of his broad shoulders, unable to move.

If only staying stationary could make time do the same. A minute passed by. Then two. After a third, she sat up, suddenly very aware of their surroundings. "Oh god, we just… On your desk. In your office. During work hours."

Nate pulled back to gaze down at her, looking thoroughly disheveled and utterly delicious. "Technically, it's after hours. But yes, that about sums it up."

She buried her face in her hands, torn between mortification and lingering desire. "This complicates things, doesn't it?"

“You mean beside the fact that my back isn't what it used to be, even given the hours I spent pushing myself at CrossFit?” He grinned, but then stood to his full height, gently prying her hands away from her face. "Melody, look at me. Yes, this complicates things. But I don't regret it. Do you?"

She met his gaze, seeing the vulnerability there. "No," she admitted softly. "I don't regret it. But Nate, what does this mean for us? For my book?"

"Honestly? I don't know. But I do know that I care about you, Melody. More than I probably should. And I'm willing to figure this out if you are."

She nodded slowly, her mind whirling with possibilities and potential pitfalls. "Okay. We'll figure it out. But for now, maybe we should... I don't know, establish some ground rules?"

Nate grinned, pulling her in for another kiss. "Agreed. Rule number one: no more office rendezvous. My back can't take another round on this desk."

She laughed despite herself, swatting at his arm. "Ass. I'm being serious here."

"So am I," he retorted, his expression sobering. "Melody, I promise you, this won't affect your book or your career. I'll keep things professional when we need to be professional. But when we're alone..."

He trailed off, his eyes darkening with promise. She felt a shiver of anticipation run through her.

"When we're alone?" she prompted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Nate leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. "When we're alone, all bets are off."

As they hurried to dress and make themselves presentable, she couldn't help but feel like she was standing on the edge of a precipice. On one side was the safe, familiar world of her writing career. On the other was the unknown territory of whatever this was with Nate.

She knew she should be more cautious, more concerned about the potential consequences. But as she watched Nate straighten his tie, his eyes meeting hers with edges of affection and desire, she realized something.

She was ready to jump.

TWENTY-SIX

The next morning,Nate prowled inside his office, his long strides eating up the length of the floor with ease.

Every surface held memories of the previous night—Melody sprawled across his desk, her body yielding to his, her sighs of pleasure echoing in his ears. The scent of her floral perfume still lingered, making it impossible for him to focus.

He had helped to build an empire within these walls, commanded rooms full of publishing titans, and made million-dollar decisions without breaking a sweat. But one night with Melody Archer had shaken his carefully constructed world to its foundation.

The stack of manuscripts on his desk—manuscripts that represented authors who would kill to be published by Carlisle—might as well have been blank pages. All he could think about was the way Melody had felt beneath him, how perfectly she had fit in his hands, the sounds she had made when he?—

His phone's harsh ring cut through the memory. Dad. Of course.

"Nathaniel Carlisle," he answered, his voice carrying the same authority he used in board meetings.

"Son," his father's gruff voice came through. "There's an important meeting tomorrow morning. I expect you to be there."

Nate resisted the urge to growl in frustration. Even at sixty-something years old, Liam Carlisle thought he could summon him like some junior executive. "What's it about?"

"The future of this company. And your place in it."