Protect Me Not ((Un)Professionally Yours 2)

“What about that thing you said? About liking me? About possibly feeling more for me?”

“That remains true. Can you handle my feelings possibly complicating matters? Or is that too potentially messy for you?”

“You don’t expect me to return those feelings?”

“No, Ty,” she reassured him gently. “I have no expectations in that regard. There’s clearly no space in your heart for me, right now.”

Not with that huge, blinking No Vacancy sign slapped over it.

“But you still like me?” His question was filled with an odd combination of hope, helplessness, and dread. Vicki wasn’t sure which emotion took precedence.

“Definitely.”

“Why?” He sounded frustrated and bewildered.

“Because you’re likable.”

“I’m not. I’ve gone out of my way to be an asshole. I’ve kept my distance from you. From others but…” He shook his head helplessly, looking confused.

“Well, you’re kind in this growly, no-nonsense way. And—while I can’t speak for them—I’m pretty sure the others at the shop like and respect you, as well. You go out of your way to charm Linda because you know she loves the attention. Josh likes you because you’re so sweet to Yuko, and he enjoys having someone to chat to about the footie. Jazz confided in me that in his experience alpha guys like you tend to be dismissive of him, or just plain nasty to him, but he says you haven’t once made him feel uncomfortable. And I’ve seen the way you indulge his borderline outrageous flirtation.”

“He’s a great guy,” Ty said, a formidable scowl on his face. “It’s hard not to like him.”

“You think you’re such a meanie, Tyler Chambers, but you’re a big, old softie,” Vicki teased.

The scowl darkened and she grinned. His clear discomfort at being called out on that wellspring of sweetness that was hidden not far beneath his gruff surface, was entertaining to witness.

“Do you want some dessert?” he asked, deliberately changing the subject. “I have—whoa, what are you doing?” She pushed to her feet and rounded the small square dinner table. There was enough space between his chair and the table for her to slide her leg over his thighs and straddle his lap, facing him. His hands flailed for a few seconds before they happily curled over her butt and squeezed. He dragged her closer, until her heat was firmly notched over the long, hard ridge pushing up against the fly of his jeans.

“I’m definitely ready for dessert,” she said, pleased with the purr-like, sex-kittenish, quality of her voice. “But I brought a little something to go with it.”

Ty stifled a moan when Vicki subtly shifted her hips, grinding up against him in a way that made him want to sweep the table clean and fuck her right there. And her naughty grin wasn’t helping matters. She pulled the long scarf from around her neck and draped it over his shoulders. She wrapped the ends of the scarf around her fists to tug his head closer.

“See? I brought a blindfold,” she whispered conspiratorially. Her lips brushed against his while she spoke--warm breath washing over his sensitive skin. He moaned, lifting his hips to thrust his aching cock against the furrow of her pussy. Her breath caught, and her moan was a lighter, breathier echo of his.

He leaped to his feet, uncaring of the chair crashing to the floor behind him, and she yelped, her legs automatically going around his waist as he carried her into his bedroom.

He had her on the bed and under him in thirty seconds flat. She stared at him with wide, shocked eyes, pupils dilated, lush lips parted. He groaned again and fitted his mouth over hers.

Fuck, he had missed the taste of her. How the hell had he gone weeks without this? How had he not wasted away from hunger and thirst?

Ty grunted in satisfaction. His tongue found hers, lavished it with attention, and lured it into his mouth.

He clasped her wrists in his hands and pinned them above her head. He lifted his head to stare into her dazed, aroused face in fierce, possessive pleasure.

All fucking mine!

He was aware of his breath coming in gasps and, in an attempt to slow things down, pushed himself up until he was kneeling between her widespread thighs. He used his free hand to tug her silky scarf from his neck. He bunched it in his fist, held it to his nose, and inhaled deeply. It smelled of her, and he loved that.

The dazed torpor left her gaze. She shook her head, wriggling fiercely in an attempt to loosen his grip on her. Confused by this unanticipated resistance, he stared at her, not quite sure what she wanted.

“Let go, Ty,” she demanded her voice throaty with desire.

He immediately released her hands. She propped herself on her elbows and shook her head to dislodge a curl that had flopped over one of her eyes.