“We can get out at the next stop and come back this way,” he said.
“Sorry. I distracted you,” I whispered.
He cast me a soft glance. “You have a habit of doing that.”
Tingles skittered down my spine at the husky note in his voice, at the glimpse of warmth. We fell into silence again and stayed by the doors until we arrived at the next stop. We got off then hopped on the train going in the opposite direction. When we finally got back to our intended destination, it was only a short walk to the archive. The building was old and rundown. I took the lead and did all the talking, and the archivist, a cranky old guy in a green jumper, admitted us entrance. He led us down a narrow, musty hallway and into a dank storage room lined with filing cabinets.
“You should be able to find what you’re looking for in here. I clock off in an hour, though, so you better be done by then.”
“We will be. Thanks for your help,” Neil said, and the man shot him an unimpressed look, grunting as he left.
Neil went to the first cabinet and pulled it open, flicking through folders.
“Can I help?” I asked.
“No, thank you. It shouldn’t take too long to find the schematics, so long as they’ve been filed correctly.”
I nodded and leaned against one of the cabinets. Neil’s back was to me, and I noticed he was wearing jeans. Most days, he wore slacks, especially while he was working. It was a rare and wonderful occasion to see him in jeans; his cute backside encased to perfection in the dark denim.
“I can feel you staring at me. Stop it,” he said gruffly.
“Well, what am I supposed to do? There isn’t anything else to look at in here.”
He heaved a sigh. “Just … I don’t know … Look at your phone or something.”
“I don’t want to look at my phone.”
“You are so bloody irritating,” he huffed.
“And you’re so easy to wind up,” I shot back, not expecting it when he swiftly turned around. A millisecond later, he was on me, backing me up into the cabinet as his hands cupped my face. “Infuriating woman. Why am I so obsessed with you?” he asked in a gravelly voice that had me clenching my thighs.
I didn’t have a chance to respond because his mouth came crashing down on mine, his tongue an invading army I was helpless to defend against. He groaned into the kiss, and I melted, my pulse racing. Neil’s knee came between my legs, nudging them apart as his mouth practically drank me in. I felt thoroughly consumed as I brought my hands up to rest on his shoulders. I had to admit; his kiss was an onslaught I wasn’t prepared for. It was an angry, passionate, punishing kiss. It was a kiss that said, I’m not ready to forgive you, but I am ready to take things out on you in a sexual manner.
I had no problem with that.
He could take things out on me all he wanted. He could be mad at me so long as he didn’t stop doing whatever he was doing with his tongue. My fingers reached up, scratching into the base of his skull. He groaned, pressing closer, his erection hard against my belly. My core ached for him. I needed him inside me, filling me up until I forgot everything else that existed except for the two of us.
Almost like he could read my mind, his hand slipped inside my leggings and past my underwear. His mouth left mine, and I inhaled large gulps of air while he planted kisses along my neck, sucked on my earlobe.
“I need you,” he rasped as his fingers slid into the folds of my sex. “You’re so wet. Is this for me?”
I bit my lip, burying my face in his shoulder. Something about his dirty talk made me shy. And what were we even doing? That old archivist could be hiding somewhere, spying on us through the keyhole. But at that moment, I was too far gone to care.
“Yes. It’s for you,” I replied breathlessly as Neil found my clit, circling it with two fingers. I gasped when his tongue slid inside the shell of my ear, causing tingles to skitter down my back and culminate at the base of my spine in the most pleasurable way.
His mouth returned to mine, and I didn’t think it was possible, but he kissed me even more ferociously than before. I was nothing but sensation as his free hand went under my top, firmly gripping my breast, his thumb flicking over my extremely sensitive nipple. I moaned again, and this seemed to please him.
“Your tits are perfect. I dream about them,” he said into the kiss.
“I want your mouth on them,” I said past a whimper, and he groaned.