The Dying Room by Debra Webb Page B

propped his hands on his hips. “Your vibrator? Really? Can your vibrator make you scream its name? Or beg for more?”
    Heat rushed up her cheeks, but it was the heat that roared to life between her legs that truly infuriated her. “Are you taking my case or not?”
    He stepped closer, nose-to-nose. “I’m on it, Doc. I will find her, and then I’ll do whatever you want me to do. Just remember when the shit hits the fan that I warned you to think carefully before you started down this path.”
    All she had to do was tilt her head just a little and then lean in the slightest bit and their lips would touch. The thought of having his mouth on hers had her burning up... had her melting faster than sugar in hot tea.
    “Got it. Now get out of my office.”
    He stared at her lips, licked his own. “Whatever you want.”
    He turned and walked away. Sylvia inhaled a ragged breath. Her whole body trembled with need as she watched him swagger to the door. If he’d held out one more second—
    The door lock clicked.
    She snapped to attention. He’d...
locked
the door!
    Slowly, he turned to face her once more. Before she could find her voice he’d closed the distance between them and pulled her against his hard body.
    “You might fool everyone else, but you don’t fool me.” He kissed her hard. The fingers of one hand dove into her hair, while the other found her breast and squeezed.
    Her knees buckled. She whimpered. One skilled hand slid down over her hip. He squeezed her bottom while his mouth continued to plunder hers.
    He backed her against her desk and she gasped, the sound lost to his hot, punishing kisses. Before she could summon the wherewithal to do more than whimper, he dragged the hem of her dress to her hips and spread her legs apart. A finger slid inside her, then another. She whimpered.
    “God, you are so damned wet.”
    “You should leave,” she said, the words panting out of her... her thighs trembling.
    “Tell me you don’t want me.” He unbuttoned his fly, lowered the zipper. “Tell me that fire isn’t for me.” He stroked her possessively.
    Speech was impossible... she could scarcely breathe...
    He shoved his briefs out of the way and nudged her intimately. The battle was lost. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he dove into her. The sound of papers sliding across her desk and slipping to the floor only made her more desperate. His fingers lowered the zipper of her dress, following the curve of her spine. He dragged the fabric down her chest, exposing her satin encased breasts.
    “You are so damned gorgeous.” He ground his pelvis into hers, letting her feel how deep inside her he was. He slid his tongue between one lacy satin cup and her breast, then toyed with her nipple with his teeth.
    She bit her lips together to hold back the scream. Her fingers buried in all that long hair as she lifted her hips to meet his slow, deep thrusts. Everything that was wrong in her life slipped away, leaving her feeling nothing but a desperate need for his touch... for all of him.
    She came twice before he finished. Even then, she wanted more.
    If only he’d simply zipped his fly and walked out when he’d finished, maybe she could have hated him for making her so weak. Maybe she could have cursed him for being a bastard.
    He didn’t.
    Like everything else about Buddy Corlew, his tenderness after lovemaking was unexpected. As soon as he’d righted his jeans, he grabbed tissues from the box on her desk and cleaned her. Slipped her panties back into place and adjusted her bra and dress, lastly tugging her zipper back into place. Then he smoothed her hair and smiled down at her before dropping one last kiss on her lips.
    “I’ll call you.”
    “No.” How she summoned the ability to utter the one word, she wasn’t sure.
    He hesitated at the door and stared expectantly at her.
    She lifted her chin and met his gaze with the defiance for which she was known. “I don’t want to hear from you again