Page 10 of Good Intentions, Vol. 1

“Heather?” her voice is sharp. “Where’s Beth?”

She was always commanding when it came to my assistants. Always warning me to be smart. Not to do anything stupid. Which is confusing since the only relationship she wanted and is ever interested in is the one with my wallet.

“Beth’s coming back in a few days, don’t worry,” I don’t know why I’m trying to calm her down.

“It’s not me who should be worried. Remember all you have to lose if you do anything stupid,” with that parting shot she hangs up.

I hurl my phone at the wall, shattering it to million pieces. Unfortunately, it’s not satisfying at all.

“Mr. Thompson?” the fearful voice snaps me from staring down at the remains of my iPhone.

“Are you done hiding?” I snarl. My anger is not directed at her, not entirely. But I can’t help myself. I need to let it out somehow.

“I wasn’t hiding,” she shifts, and the movement hitches her tight skirt up a little bit.

Not revealing in any way. But, that’s more than my crazed-up mind can handle right now. I stand up and start walking slowly towards her. I don’t have a clue what the fuck I’m doing. But I can’t stop myself. I’m so fucking tired. I’m tired of wanting this woman and not being able to have her. I’m tired of my wife only using me to get more money. I’m tired of spending my days buried in work so I won’t have to face the cold reality of my life. I’m just tired of everything.

“I was trying to find that report. I knew I had it done, I don’t know how I could possibly misplace it,” her eyes track my every movement.

And with each step I get closer to her, her breath becomes shallower, but her chest tries harder to get the air in, moving rapidly up and down, putting her tits on display every other second. Drawing my eyes to them. Making the saliva pool in my mouth.

She holds up a folder, “I left it in the copy room, I honestly don’t know what to say, except, I’m so sorry, it won’t happen again.”

Tilting my head, I smile, “Well, now you can throw it out the window. I need a new one. You know damn well that marked changes every day.”

“But it took me days to gather up all the information,” she blurts her eyes wide.

I stand in front of her. So close, I feel her nipples brushing my chest with her every breath.

“Well, now I need a new one, ‘till the end of today,” I wrap my hand in her hair, pulling. Giving her the bite of pain. All it does is make her eyes open wider, and her knees to buckle. “And I need a new one every day until the day of the meeting,” I press my lips to hers, looking in her eyes. “And I’ll need it every day until we have this deal iron-clad.”

I give her a few seconds to pull away, to call me an asshole, or a predator. To knee me in my fucking balls, screaming her head off how she’ll sue me for molesting her. She doesn’t do that. Instead, she licks her lips, brushing mine with her tongue.

Fuck!

Groaning, I pull her hair tighter, invoking a moan to pass her lips, tilt her head to get a better angle, and I kiss her. It’s the best damn kiss I had in all my life. Pulling her closer still, I half expect her to put a stop to this madness and run from the office. She doesn’t. There’s a soft thud on the floor, and then her hands are around me, all over me. God damnit, could it be she feels the same way as me? This uncontrollable urge to have her? This desire burning in my chest, ruling my every move, and not letting me concentrate on anything else? Wanting to hear that sweet sound coming from her mouth again, I grind my dick against her. There it is, the nectar. We’re all lips, tongues, teeth. Wanting to taste, to eat up. To dominate. I trail my hand down her back. Finally, I squeeze that ass of hers that’s been taunting me for months, pulling her to me more. I want to crawl into her. I want to sink my dick so deep she’ll feel me in her throat.

I want to own her.

Her hands start to reciprocate, but she doesn’t go all the way, they stop at my belt, pulling my shirt out. The first skin on skin contact is electrifying. God, this never felt so good. She trails her palms up and down my back urging me to go deeper. Biting her lip, I taste copper. Realizing I drew blood I leave my tongue to make it better. Is this her breaking point? Will she push me away; tell me I’m too savage? I get the answer in the form of her nails scratching my back.

And that’s a wake-up call for me. Ending the kiss as abruptly as it started, I tore out of her arms, feeling the cold hitting me. What the fuck had I done? I don’t dare to look at her. If I see the disheveled look she has after our kiss, I’m afraid my control will snap, and I’ll fuck everything up.

I turn and walk away from her growling, “Get the fuck out, Miss Turner.” Great, now I use her last name.

What the fuck had I done? I come to my desk. Fuck, I need to straighten this shit, or I’ll fuck other things up. I can hear her standing there, her breath coming hard. After a few seconds there’s a sound of rustling papers. She’s picking up that damn report. Still, not even glancing up her way, I take a seat, tucking my shirt back in. The movement brings back a phantom of the feeling of her skin on mine.

Just as there’s a soft click of opening the doors, I call, “Oh, and Miss Turner, you were right, this won’t happen again.”