Page 155 of Beautifully Scarred Omega

I take her hands. “Sophie, look at me.”

She looks up, her eyes wide.

“Don’t ever apologize for telling me what you’re thinking. I want to know. I want to know all of it.” I kiss her cheek. Her lips are right there and I want to kiss her so badly it hurts. “I should go back to the gala.” I swallow. “Not because I want to. God knows I’ve thought about nothing but you for weeks. But not here, not like this.”

It takes everything I have, but I step back from her and move toward the door, my heart racing.

I’m at the door when she calls out. “Eth.”

I turn around.

She’s standing behind the desk, and the woman looking at me is not the same woman who was blushing about a scarf minutes ago. Her lips are parted, her chest rising and falling too fast. She looks like she’s made a decision and she’s not going to let herself take it back.

She takes a step toward me. Her hand finds the edge of the desk and holds on, like she needs something solid to anchor herself.

“Sophie—”

She takes another step. This one steadier. Her hand leaves the desk.

“What if—what if I want to?”

Her voice shakes on the last word, but she doesn’t look away.

Another step. Her chin lifts. Her hands go to the top button of her dress and she undoes it slowly, her eyes locked on mine.

My pulse spikes so hard I can feel it in my wrists.

I reach behind me and lock the door.

“Sophie, please.” My voice comes out wrecked, my heart thumping so loud I can hear it.

“Ethan.” The way she says my name—low, like she’s tasting it—goes straight to my cock. Another step, another button. The fabric parts to reveal the hollow of her throat, the line of her collarbone, and my eyes follow every inch of skin she exposes.

She wants me. And this isn’t biology. This is Sophie choosing, walking toward me with her eyes wide open.

Another step. Another button. I can see the swell of her breasts now, the soft curve of them pushed up by a black bra, and my hands curl into fists so tight my nails cut into my palms because if I move them I’m going to put them on her and I’m not going to stop.

Fuck.

My breathing is ragged, fast and loud in the quiet room. I press my back harder into the door, trying to keep distance between us, but she’s getting closer with every button and the fight is already lost.

It’s a surrender in slow motion.

Then she’s right in front of me, her breath warm on my jaw. I can see the pulse hammering in her throat, the flush spreading down between her breasts, and her fingers trembling on the last button.

“Please what, Ethan?” she whispers, and the dress drops to the floor.

She’s in a black bra and underwear and nothing else, and every synapse in my brain fires at once and goes dark.

My hands find her waist and my mouth finds hers and the kiss is violent in its urgency. She tastes like champagne and something warmer underneath, something that is just her, and I’ve been starving for it. I grip her waist and lift her and her legs wrap around me and I press her back against the door and the moment my cock grinds against her core through my trousers, a sound tears out of me that I don’t recognize.

“Sophie—fuck—” I’m losing my mind. Her hands are in my hair, pulling hard enough to sting, her hips rocking against me, and every movement sends a bolt of heat straight through my body and into the base of my spine.

I carry her to the desk and lower her onto the edge, stepping between her thighs, and she pulls me closer by my tie. We’re in the same position we were in the archive room except this time there’s no hesitation in her eyes.

I kiss her neck, her collarbone, the swell of her breasts above her bra, my mouth moving greedily over her skin, and I can feel her pulse everywhere I touch.

“Sophie,” I whisper hoarsely, my cock so hard it hurts, straining against my trousers where I’m pressed between her thighs.