done and he’d shut up once more.
However, today, she’d pushed him over the limit. “What are you wearing?”
Kristen glanced up, her brow creased. He’d clearly interrupted her when she was deep in thought. She’d been working hard preparing for a medical malpractice suit. He almost felt guilty for distracting her. Almost.
“What?”
He crossed the room to her, walking around her desk. She pushed her chair back and swiveled to face him.
“What are you wearing?”
She looked down, perplexed. “A skirt?”
He rubbed his forehead as too many sleepless nights caught up with him all at once. She was driving him crazy these days. Wearing her hair down, smiling, singing, laughing at all his dirty jokes. Lately he’d gotten in the habit of calling her every night before he went to bed just because he wanted to hear her voice one more time before he closed his eyes.
Then sleep would elude him as he saw her face and heard her chastising him for drinking too much or not eating a healthy dinner or chasing the wrong kind of women. God. All she had to do was take that tone with him and his cock was rock hard for an hour afterwards. He’d jacked off so many times in the past few weeks he was getting callouses on his palm.
He gritted his teeth, then forced himself to say, “ Under the skirt?”
She narrowed her eyes in her typical grow up way and his dick twitched. Shit. Here we go again.
“Seriously? You came in here to ask me that? Go home, J. Or better yet, call Monica. For some insane reason, she’s really into you. Maybe she can take your mind off this unhealthy obsession you have with my stockings.”
“So you are wearing stockings.”
“That’s all you heard me say, isn’t it?”
He shrugged, perfectly aware he was standing over her, looking and acting like king of the Neanderthals. He didn’t care. She was poking the bear. Every freaking day.
Then he caught a whiff of flowers. “When did you start wearing perfume?”
She shook her head, apparently unbothered by his odd change of subject. “When I was fifteen. Are you feeling okay? You’ve been walking around here for weeks like a tiger with a thorn in his paw. What’s going on?”
He wished to God he knew. Because maybe if he did, he wouldn’t do what he was about to do next. Unfortunately, intelligent Jason had abandoned ship when Kristen walked into work this morning in her short skirt and stockings. The only person still in residence was the idiot.
He bent down, caging Kristen in her chair, and kissed her. Put his lips against hers and pressed close.
She struggled for only a minute. He barely registered her hands on his shoulders, shoving against him. Then her fingers stopped pushing and started gripping.
Jason released his white-knuckle clench on the arms of her chair once he realized she was kissing him back. Their lips parted at the same time, their tongues meeting halfway as he grasped her face in his palms, stroking her soft skin.
She made a quiet whimper when he knelt between her legs, but she didn’t hesitate to part her thighs, to make room for him between. Neither of them came up for air, as if breaking the union of their lips would somehow crush the magic. Instead, they dove headfirst into the kiss, allowing it to go on and on.
Kristen’s hands loosened from his shirt, moving along his shoulders, then back to his tie. She released the knot and tugged the silk from the collar. When she started to tackle the buttons of his shirt, Jason gave up whatever semblance of control had remained.
He lowered his hands to her legs, caressing her thighs before gathering enough courage to dive beneath her skirt. His fingers had only traveled a few inches before he found the clasps of her garter.
Kristen gasped, a strong burst of air that almost pushed their lips apart. They recovered quickly, however, and resumed kissing, tasting. Jason relished every soft cry, every delicate sound of pure bliss she made.
He’d kissed hundreds of women
However, today, she’d pushed him over the limit. “What are you wearing?”
Kristen glanced up, her brow creased. He’d clearly interrupted her when she was deep in thought. She’d been working hard preparing for a medical malpractice suit. He almost felt guilty for distracting her. Almost.
“What?”
He crossed the room to her, walking around her desk. She pushed her chair back and swiveled to face him.
“What are you wearing?”
She looked down, perplexed. “A skirt?”
He rubbed his forehead as too many sleepless nights caught up with him all at once. She was driving him crazy these days. Wearing her hair down, smiling, singing, laughing at all his dirty jokes. Lately he’d gotten in the habit of calling her every night before he went to bed just because he wanted to hear her voice one more time before he closed his eyes.
Then sleep would elude him as he saw her face and heard her chastising him for drinking too much or not eating a healthy dinner or chasing the wrong kind of women. God. All she had to do was take that tone with him and his cock was rock hard for an hour afterwards. He’d jacked off so many times in the past few weeks he was getting callouses on his palm.
He gritted his teeth, then forced himself to say, “ Under the skirt?”
She narrowed her eyes in her typical grow up way and his dick twitched. Shit. Here we go again.
“Seriously? You came in here to ask me that? Go home, J. Or better yet, call Monica. For some insane reason, she’s really into you. Maybe she can take your mind off this unhealthy obsession you have with my stockings.”
“So you are wearing stockings.”
“That’s all you heard me say, isn’t it?”
He shrugged, perfectly aware he was standing over her, looking and acting like king of the Neanderthals. He didn’t care. She was poking the bear. Every freaking day.
Then he caught a whiff of flowers. “When did you start wearing perfume?”
She shook her head, apparently unbothered by his odd change of subject. “When I was fifteen. Are you feeling okay? You’ve been walking around here for weeks like a tiger with a thorn in his paw. What’s going on?”
He wished to God he knew. Because maybe if he did, he wouldn’t do what he was about to do next. Unfortunately, intelligent Jason had abandoned ship when Kristen walked into work this morning in her short skirt and stockings. The only person still in residence was the idiot.
He bent down, caging Kristen in her chair, and kissed her. Put his lips against hers and pressed close.
She struggled for only a minute. He barely registered her hands on his shoulders, shoving against him. Then her fingers stopped pushing and started gripping.
Jason released his white-knuckle clench on the arms of her chair once he realized she was kissing him back. Their lips parted at the same time, their tongues meeting halfway as he grasped her face in his palms, stroking her soft skin.
She made a quiet whimper when he knelt between her legs, but she didn’t hesitate to part her thighs, to make room for him between. Neither of them came up for air, as if breaking the union of their lips would somehow crush the magic. Instead, they dove headfirst into the kiss, allowing it to go on and on.
Kristen’s hands loosened from his shirt, moving along his shoulders, then back to his tie. She released the knot and tugged the silk from the collar. When she started to tackle the buttons of his shirt, Jason gave up whatever semblance of control had remained.
He lowered his hands to her legs, caressing her thighs before gathering enough courage to dive beneath her skirt. His fingers had only traveled a few inches before he found the clasps of her garter.
Kristen gasped, a strong burst of air that almost pushed their lips apart. They recovered quickly, however, and resumed kissing, tasting. Jason relished every soft cry, every delicate sound of pure bliss she made.
He’d kissed hundreds of women
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