Sleeping with the Enemy (An Enemies to Lovers Collection)

“Are you sure?”

She kicks her jeans away, grabs her panties, and rips them down. “Just kiss me, you oaf. Now.”

And so, I do. I grasp her ass and kiss her hard, hauling her up against me before driving her back toward the desk. Seeing stars doesn’t even cover what’s dancing behind my closed eyes right now. I feel like Stella clubbed me. She couldn’t have shocked me more if she’d tried because this was the last thing I saw coming. Maybe, when I poked her sore spots about thinking about me and being affected by the kiss, I was right on.

Perhaps, these past few years, she’s been burning for me too, which is what drives the animosity she feels for me. I joked about it before, mostly with myself because I wouldn’t dare bring this up with anyone else, but I always thought Stella disliked me so much so that she didn’t have to risk feeling the opposite. Because, of course, she already did. Feel it. She probably masked it, smothered it, stamped it out, and got rid of it in any way possible as it was always more important than letting it be known to her mind what she truly felt.

I lift her easily onto the desk, and she completely tears her panties away before I can even fathom this is happening.

“If you can manage to find and figure out what to do, I want you to touch me,” she says huskily, the taunt still there even in her most desperate tone.

“How can I resist that challenge?”

“I’m hoping you don’t.” She grasps my cheeks and kisses me hard. “If you ever tell anyone about this, I know where your nuts live. I will grind them into peanut butter, spread them on toast, and serve it to you without the benefit of jam.”

I trace the delicious fullness of her bottom lip with the tip of my tongue. “So, you remember that I hate peanut butter on its own.”

“You never would eat it unless it was with jam.”

“Or jelly.”

“That’s the same thing.” She parts her legs for me again but keeps her hands on my cheeks so I can’t look at her. Maybe that’s a good thing. If I look at her, I think I might die of sheer and utter bliss right on the spot.

I bring my hand up and tentatively run it along the length of her silky smooth thigh. The heat of her skin is like a fever, crawling up my arm and jumping inside me, taking over my body. I can’t stop.

“I guess you know what they say about stealing something.”

“No…” Stella pauses, her tongue near my lip.

“It tastes way better that way.”

She shakes her head. “You haven’t stolen anything. I don’t understand this, but I…I want you to do this. I want you to touch me. If you don’t take me up on my offer, I’m getting up from this desk, and I’m going to put on my clothes, and I’m going to…oh. Oh…holy freaking shizzle.”

Stella is smooth. And even warmer here, at her center. She’s fire and silk, and she’s soaking wet. I use my finger, barely touching her, to gather a few of those drops. I want nothing more than to drop to my knees and feast on her, but it would be loud, she would no doubt be loud, and if I weren’t able to seal off the sounds she makes, then the whole office would know what we’re doing in here.

“What’s your wizard power?” Stella asks, breaking into my thoughts as she arches into my touch. She strangles a gasp, but I hear it clear her throat anyway.

“Making you come harder than you’ve ever come before?”

She goes completely still, and I think there’s a confession coming. My male ego wants her to tell me that, of course, she knows I can make her come harder than anyone ever has. That she’s never really had a real orgasm before and had always faked it because those fools didn’t know what they were doing. I realize how awful and selfish a thought that is, though, and I’m ashamed.

She snakes her hands around my hips and grabs my ass so hard that I nearly jump like that ten-year-old girl has jumped back down my throat. “I was thinking more along the lines of whether you’re able to crack the lids on hard to open jars.”

“Don’t they make a device for that?” I circle her slowly, exploring, letting my fingers speak for themselves, and her gasp ricochets through the room.

“Don’t they make a device for this?” She looks up at me and arches a brow sassily.

I gather her arousal on my fingertip and purposely circle it over her clit a little harder than before. She whimpers. And when I circle again, she throws her head back. I keep exploring, my balls growing tighter and tighter when I feel how wet she is for me.