Play with Me
Page 15
“You don’t even know me.”
“I want to know you.”
I swallow hard. “Well, I’m sure you’ll know every piece of my DNA after seven hours of being trapped here. Goal achieved.”
“Ms. Miller—”
“Stop with the Ms. Miller. I’m not your damn employee anymore. Let go of me.”
He doesn’t let go. His gaze flickers to my mouth, then lifts. “I won’t let you quit.”
“Call Natalie. I’m sure she’ll come back.”
He tugs me close, his hard body aligned with mine, and I can barely breathe. “What do you know of Ms. Duncan?”
“If you mean Natalie, she was in HR when I was.”
“There were circumstances.”
“Yeah. I get that. Believe me, I get it.”
“No. You don’t. She has nothing to do with you or us.”
Us? What does he mean, us? And why is my hand on his chest? Why can’t I move it? “I’m done. Let me go.”
“You won’t change your mind about quitting?”
“No.”
His fingers tangle into my hair, dragging me closer. “Then why would I let you go?”
Both of my hands have now found the wall of his chest, and I intend to push him away, but I just … don’t. “What are you doing?”
“What do you think I’m doing? Finding out if you taste as good as I think you do.” And then his lips are on mine, his tongue licking seductively into my mouth, sending erotic sensations spiraling through my body. I tell myself this is insanity. To push away. We barely know each other. I don’t even like him. Except I know it’s a lie. I know that in the short time we’ve known each other, every shared moment, every mutual look, every touch and tangled word exchange, has been leading to this.
Another lick of his tongue and I am unable to hold back a moan or the desperate need to be closer to him. I arch forward, desperate to feel him against me. Desperate to have him naked and touching me. Me touching him. Desperate to be naked and have him inside me. He is a drug, a wicked, wonderful drug that will finally be the end of my sanity if I allow him to be.
That idea sends a burst of panic and adrenaline through me, and I shove at his chest. “Stop. We can’t.”
His mouth leaves mine, and I am one part relief, one part painful need to pull him back. “Why?” he demands, and his voice is rough, affected.
“You’re my boss.”
“You quit.”
“Right. Which means I leave now.”
“You want to leave?”
No. “Yes.”
His eyes darken to deep pools of green fire and stormy torment, telling me he knows this is a mistake. He knows. I know. Why are we still here? “Tell me you really mean that and I’ll let you go,” he vows. “But just know this: If you stay, I absolutely will fuck you senseless and then do it again.”
“I … you … we can’t …”
“We can. I’m going to kiss you now, Kali.”
“Kali?” I whisper, unbelievably aroused by my name on his lips.