Page 38 of Heated Takeover

Marcus circles my nipples with his thumbs, and my knees grow weak with anticipation. I pull one hand from his slacks, turning my palm against his lower abdomen and slide it into his boxer briefs. I reach lower and lower until I feel the tip of his cock against my fingers.

I circle it with the pad of my thumb, teasing him the way he is teasing me, and he continues to do the same. It’s our little game of cat and mouse until he flickers his thumbs over my nipples. I gasp and wrap my hand around his cock, stroking it hard, and he groans.

“Fuck me, baby girl,” Ash growls, leaning to press his forehead against mine.

And God, do I want to. I want to fuck him and I want him to fuck me and I want to do all of it right here right now. We could move the boxes out of the way or hide behind them. Hell, we could do it on the staged table. If only there were a bedroom setting…

But then I remember why there isn’t a bedroom setting. Because this is an event showroom, not an IKEA, and there’s no beds because there shouldn’t be. And we shouldn’t be doing this either. Not if we want to draw hard lines between personal and professional, which we must do because it’s too dangerous for literally everyone involved if we don’t.

And so I pull away. It feels like ripping myself in half, but I do it because, “we can’t do this,” I say abruptly. I fix my glasses and start pulling my shirt back up over my bare chest.

“No?” he asks with a rough lilt in his voice. “Are you sure?”

No. Not at all. Not in the slightest.

“Yes,” I say, stepping around him and bolting for the door. It’s too complicated. Too messy. Too risky…he’s my boss and the father of my child. I can’t lose either of those things by being careless.

I clack down the hallway, hoping no one can see how flushed my cheeks are or how flustered I am. I realize that most people are too consumed with lunch to care what I am doing. And for the first time, maybe ever, I decide to go out to lunch. Anything to get away from this building. Away from the temptations and mistakes lurking inside.

It isn’t until I walk out the front door that I realize I am not wearing a bra anymore, and I just pray nobody else notices me enough to notice that.

Chapter 16

Marcus

I don’t know where Natalie gets off not getting off.

Things in the showroom were getting heated, and it was the perfect setting. There was plenty of privacy, adjustable lighting, a multitude of surfaces to commit deliciously dirty deeds. Nobody would be the wiser except for the came-with-the-frame faces in the photos on the walls.

Besides, no one was going to walk in on us. I know this because I locked the door when I walked inside.

But she left.

I warmed her up; she warmed me up, and then she left before the sparks were a full-blown wildfire.

It’s been three days, and it’s still all I can think about. And no amount of trying to relieve the tension myself has helped. Which tells me today’s meeting, a meeting I called for only her and me, is only going to make things harder.

We really do need to have a meeting. Mission and Ashford have an event coming up soon; we need to discuss it. It will take place at one of the waterfront mansions in Indian Creek Island, and considering the profile and the status of the location, I trust no one else on this job.

We will discuss business, exploring all of our best options for the event, and then, if I have my way (and I do plan to have my way this time), we will explore other things as well.

To my surprise, Natalie is late. Twelve minutes late. I half wonder if she has decided not to come or if she just refuses to be alone with me. Of course, that won’t be acceptable, and I am about to page the secretary to hunt Natalie down for me when she comes bursting in the door.

“I am so sorry I’m late,” she says, utterly out of breath and frazzled as hell.

But she’s not the only one with a look of disarray. I am literally staring in disbelief, unblinking, as a small child materializes behind her. If I had to guess, her child.

“The school called because Jamie has a fever and Brittany, that’s the nanny, couldn’t pick him up because, as it turns out, she’s sick too and–”

“You brought your son to work with you,” I state the obvious as I continue to stare at the child next to her. He’s peeking out from behind her, looking up at me, holding her hand with a death grip. His large, dark eyes staring at me from behind a tiny pair of glasses.

“Is that your boss?” he asks. I can tell by the flush in his otherwise olive skin that he does look ill.

“It is,” she says in a soft, sweet voice I almost don’t recognize. “His name is Mr. Ashford.”

“Ash,” he says and I look at her. She looks back at me and then at him, and now her cheeks are pink too. Has she talked to him about me?

“Marcus, this is Jamie,” she tells me. I nod once, but it’s not a nod of approval. She brought her kid to work. So much for my previous thoughts…