Page 54

“Come in.”

The door opens, and Eric stands there in a dark suit, his phone still in his hand. His gaze drops to the screen I’m holding, then returns to my face. One brow rises.

Apparently, if I won’t answer his calls, he’ll come and find me.

He steps inside and closes the door. His eyes move slowly over me, bringing back the feel of his hands and mouth on my body. Heat gathers low in my stomach, but I place my phone on the desk and meet his stare.

“Can I help you?”

Two chairs face my desk. Eric ignores both. He walks around to my side and leans against the edge beside me, as if he has every right to be there. He’s close enough that the warm scent of his cologne reaches me.

“I tried to leave you alone,” he says.

“You called eight times.”

“I said I tried. I didn’t say I was good at it.” Some of his confidence fades. “I thought I knew how you felt on Saturday. Then you walked out, and refused to speak to me. I’ve spent the last day wondering whether I read the whole thing wrong.”

The doubt in his voice catches me off guard. I open my mouth to tell him that satisfactory was a joke, but he takes hold of my chair and turns me toward him. Then he lowers himself to his knees.

His hands settle on my thighs, and his thumbs begin to move in slow strokes as he looks up at me.

“I can do better,” he says. “I know I can.” His hands tighten slightly. “Please let me.”

My breath catches. Since we met, Eric has treated every no as a delay and walked into every room as if it belonged to him. Now he’s on his knees, asking instead of assuming. His thumbs stroke the inside of my thighs, but he doesn’t move any higher. He waits.

Eric expects the world to give him whatever he wants. Seeing him kneel in front of me and say please wipes every sensible thought from my mind. All I can think about is his mouth and how badly I want what he’s offering.

I nod.

His hands slide to my hips, and he draws me to the edge of the chair. He presses a slow kiss to the inside of my knee, then another higher, gathering my skirt as he goes.

When he reaches the top of my thigh, he stops. I open my legs wider, and he presses his mouth against me through my underwear. A desperate sound escapes before I can stop it.

His eyes lift to mine. “Quiet.” His hand closes gently around my thigh. “You don’t make a sound until I’m finished.”

I bite my lip and nod.

He moves my underwear aside and parts me with two fingers. His tongue follows in one long stroke. The next is slower, ending exactly where I need him.

My breath catches. He notices.

His tongue circles the same spot again, tighter this time. He changes the pressure, watching my face until he finds what makes my thighs tense. Then his lips close around my clit, and his tongue keeps working beneath them.

My fingers tighten in his hair. His gaze stays locked on mine, and every time my body reacts, he repeats whatever caused it.

A moan rises in my throat. Eric reaches up and covers my mouth before it escapes. I wrap my fingers around his wrist and hold his hand there.

He keeps the pressure steady, his tongue moving in small circles while his mouth works around me. I try to hold still, but my hips lift toward him. When I pull his hair, he groans against me, and the vibration sends another rush of pleasure through my body.

It builds too fast. My thighs tighten around him, but he grips one and keeps me exactly where he wants me. He doesn’t speed up or change the pressure. His tongue continues the same slow circles until I can’t hold back any longer.

I come without making a sound, my breath trapped behind his palm and my fingers tight in his hair. Eric feels every pulse and keeps his tongue steady through all of them. Only when my body begins to relax does he soften each stroke. I finally tug his hair, too sensitive to take another second.

He eases back but stays on his knees between my thighs while I struggle to catch my breath. His mouth is wet, yet his tie is still straight and his suit looks untouched. Somehow, that makes the sight of him even worse.

He drags his thumb across his lower lip and looks up at me. “Still only satisfactory?”

“No. You were very good,” I admit.