My intercom beeped, drawing me back to the present. “Thirty minutes, Rhett,” Lois reminded me. That was all she said before switching it off. She might seem abrupt to some, but one of the reasons I worked well with Lois was her clear and succinct communication.
I pushed my chair back and collected my cell phone and keys, then stood and grabbed my suit jacket off the chair behind me. Instead of putting it on, though, I draped it over my arm, then picked up a satchel bag and strolled out of my office. It was a beautiful spring day in New York, and the building was less than half a mile away, so it would be fastest to walk there.
Lois didn’t look away from her computer as I left my office, but she held up a folder for me to take as I passed by. “Thanks,” I said as I set my bag on her desk and slipped the file into it before closing it up and walking the three steps to Charlotte’s door.
“Let’s go, ba—” I coughed to cover my almost blunder and cleared my throat. “Charlotte, it’s time to go.”
She’d been typing on her laptop, and her fingers halted, her head whipping up to glare at me. It seemed I hadn’t fooled her. I responded with a shrug, only somewhat remorseful over the situation. I understood being professional in the workplace, but very soon, she would be my wife, and slipups like that were bound to happen.
Charlotte took a deep breath and hit a couple of keys on her computer before closing it. Then she opened a drawer and drew out her purse, slinging it over her shoulder as she stood. After rounding her desk, she picked up a folder and tucked it into her bag without breaking her stride. Being a large guy, I filled the doorway, but when she approached, I turned sideways to allow her through. Not that it left her much room, which meant she had to slide her body against mine as she exited.
I didn’t miss the slight catch in her breath when she felt the sizable, hard bulge in my pants against her stomach. Fighting a grin, I murmured, “Are you ready to go, or do you need a minute?”
She knew exactly what I was asking, and it showed in the scowl she tossed my way, even as she shifted uncomfortably.
I put my hand at the small of her back and guided her toward the elevator. While we stood there waiting, I leaned down and whispered, “If you’re not going to let me take care of that little problem for you, I suggest you bring an extra set of panties with you every day.”
Charlotte stared straight ahead, but her body heated several degrees, making me smirk. The elevator arrived, and we stepped onto it. Though I didn’t draw her closer, I didn’t move away and kept our connection through my touch.
The air was thick with sexual tension, and it took Herculean strength not to push Charlotte up against the wall and sink my long, thick cock into her tight pussy. The only thing stopping me was knowing it would be too far, too fast. It wasn’t as if we were under surveillance where someone could see and hear my woman when I made her come. I’d had the cameras in this elevator rewired to turn them off with the touch of my fingerprint, which I did whenever Charlotte and I were alone in there. To any observer, it looked like I used the scan rather than a key card to set the car in motion.
It was on the list of places I intended to fuck her, just not today.
“Help me how?”
Charlotte’s question was so soft, I almost missed it.
One corner of my lips hiked up, and my eyes filled with wicked intent. I knew she could see my expression in the mirrored doors, but I didn’t bother to hide it.
My hand slipped to the flare of her wide hip, and I dragged her closer so I didn’t have far to go when I lowered my head. My lips brushed against her ear. “By licking up all your honey until you’re clean, baby.”
Charlotte trembled, and I wasn’t sure if it was my hot breath on her sensitive lobe or my words, maybe both. Either way, her reaction was telling.
I straightened as the elevator slowed to a stop, and the doors silently parted. As we stepped into the large, marble lobby, I almost returned my hand to the small of her back. Then I thought, fuck it, and held her close as we exited the building.
* * *
I was going to fucking kill this asshole.
Gareth, the broker, had been sidling up to my woman the entire time we were here. Using stupid excuses to lean over her and point at something in the prospectus, walking closer than was professional, speaking in a low—and what I’m sure he thought was a seductive—tone.