The movement gets Graham’s attention, but he doesn’t miss a beat. He continues his little speech on utility prices, his eyes trained on mine. I hold his gaze, widening my eyes, teasing him. I could never go through with this here, not in front of his brother and father. But he doesn’t know that. And this is fun.
Graham’s head cocks to the side in a silent warning, and I can’t help but smirk. I wiggle my eyebrows and watch his lips press together. He clears his throat, shifting in his seat.
I form an “o” with my lips and wink at Graham. That does it. In one swift movement, he stands. His brother and father lean back, puzzled.
“Is everything okay?” Mr. Landry asks. “Graham?”
“I need to get something from my office. Excuse me,” he gruffs, storming out the door.
I bolt upright, not sure what to make of that. When they look at me, I shrug. “He didn’t have a lot of coffee this morning,” I offer weakly.
Ford chuckles. “He seemed a little preoccupied when I got here today. I think he was focused, and I know when I’m thinking about work like that,” he grins cheekily, “coffee gets easily overlooked.”
“Graham does have a drive that’s hard to find,” Mr. Landry offers.
Ford tries to stifle a laugh. “Would you agree, Mallory?”
“Most definitely,” I giggle.
“He’s acting odd today,” Mr. Landry comments to Ford. “Is he acting all right with you?”
“He’s fine, Dad. Don’t worry about him.”
“I don’t, usually,” Mr. Landry says, shaking his head. “He has his shit together more than any of you, which concerns me today when I see him like this. I—”
He’s interrupted by a buzzing sound loud in the air. “Mallory, would you see me in my office, please?” Graham’s voice is clear and not without a brusqueness that’s impossible to miss.
“Sure. I’ll be right there.” I stand, smoothing down my dress. The intercom disconnects with a thump. “I moved the creamer on him,” I joke. “I’ll be right back, gentlemen.”
I feel their gazes on my back as I exit and weave through the people standing in the halls on their lunch break. Once I enter my office, I see his doors are open.
A feeling of anticipation lingers in the air. I approach the doorway and find him standing next to his desk, his tie loose around his neck, his hair ruffled. His jaw is set as his gaze sweeps over me.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he asks.
“I was still taking notes. I was doing my job.”
“You were fingering yourself.”
“You don’t know that.”
He storms towards me, grabbing the edge of the door and slamming it behind me, locking it with a flourish. “If I touch you now, will you be wet?”
“Like that has anything to do with if I was touching myself or not,” I say. “Just looking at you—”
I’m against the wall, the force causing the painting over the love seat to shake. His lips are all over mine, my jaw, down my neck to my chest.
“Oh, God,” I moan, soaking in the way his hands roam my body—my arms, my cheeks, down my chest and then over to my sides. In a swift motion, his hands are palming my ass and lifting me.
Instinctively, I wrap my legs around his waist as he picks me up, pinning me against the wall. He kisses me senseless and I go right back at him, working frantically at the buttons of his shirt.
I’m whirled in a circle as he walks me backwards. I jerk his shirt free from his pants and fumble for the last button. Before I can get it undone, he drops me on the loveseat.
Lying back, my breathing all over the place, I look up at him. His hair is sticking up everywhere, his jacket half off, his shirt completely askew like he was just mugged. It’s hot as hell.
He gets on his knees, dragging my left leg and tossing it over his shoulder. A grin lifts the corner of his lips.
“You need a release, baby?” he asks.