The Rivals

“Don’t do it again.”

My hands flew to my hips. “Then make yourself more goddamn accessible.”

Weston’s eyes darkened. “You’re not well-versed enough in construction to make large financial decisions, especially ones that involve Travis Bolton. He’s laying the charm on thick, and you fall for it.”

Two minutes ago, I’d wanted to hug him, and now I was seriously considering punching him in the face. “Screw you.”

He smirked. “Been there, done that.”

My eyes widened. “Go to hell!”

He glared at me. “Turn around.”

“What?”

“Turn around. Bend over the desk.”

Had he been drinking? He had to have fallen off the wagon and hit his damn head if he thought I was about to have sex with him. “I have no idea what I was thinking being nice to you and opening up.” I brushed past him and marched toward the door.

He called after me. “You’re forgetting your flowers.”

I halted and decided to show him what he could do with his flowers. Walking back to the desk, I picked them up with the intention of tossing them in the garbage. But before I could turn around, Weston had pushed up against me.

“I don’t know how to do nice, Soph,” he whispered in my ear. “This I know how to do.”

My pulse raced. I’d been practically shaking with anger. “Are you joking? You baited me into a fight because you don’t know how to be nice to me?”

He pushed his erection into my ass. “That depends on how you define nice. I would say giving you multiple orgasms is pretty nice.”

I wanted to be mad, but I felt my resolve slipping. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”

There was a smile in his voice. “Yes, I do.” He paused. “Now bend over, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. One little word, and I turned to mush.

I stood there debating, wanting in the worst way to walk out the door, but somehow I couldn’t get my feet to align with my head.

Weston brushed the hair from my neck and kissed his way up to my ear. “I missed you, babe.” He snaked a hand around my waist and cupped between my legs, bunching the fabric of my skirt into his hand. “Tell me you’re wet for me.”

I was getting there, but I wasn’t about to admit that. “You want me to do your job? Isn’t it enough that I’ve been covering for you for two days?”

He chuckled. “I’m about to make it up to you.”

Weston pushed my skirt and panties aside and stroked up and down once before pushing two fingers inside me. It took me less than three minutes to come on his hand, and ten seconds later I was bent over the desk as he pushed inside me. The second time I came, we shook the desk so hard the flowers tumbled to the floor. Weston said my name over and over again as he emptied himself inside of me. It was fast and furious, but just as physically satisfying as if it had been long and tender.

He leaned over my back as he attempted to catch his breath. “Thank you,” he said.

“I should be the one thanking you. You did most of the work.”

Weston pulled out and turned me around to face him. He pushed the hair off my face. “I wasn’t talking about the orgasm. I was talking about what you said earlier.”

I grabbed two fistfuls of his shirt and nodded. “There’s no reason to thank me for that. It was the truth. Your struggles with alcohol don’t have to define you. We all get knocked down at one point or another in our life. But you stood taller when you got back up. You should be proud of that.”

He looked down for a while before his eyes returned to mine. “Have dinner with me tomorrow night.”

We’d had dinner together quite a few times over the last few weeks. “Okay…”

“I don’t mean dinner at the restaurant downstairs while we discuss business, or you eating with me because I’m blackmailing you to share a meal. I want a date—a real date.”

I smiled. “That sounds nice. I’d like that.”

“Let’s not get carried away and call it nice. It’s still going to end with my cock inside of you.”

I laughed. “I expect nothing less.”

Unfortunately, I still had a million things to do tonight, things that needed to get done by the morning for the valuation team. So I pressed my lips to his and said, “I need to get going now. I have a lot of work to do tonight.”

Weston didn’t hide his pout. I straightened my clothing and gave him one last quick kiss. At the door, I looked back.

“Oh, by the way, I threw out the roses the day they came, and I’m not allergic to dahlias. You know my room number, so clean up that mess and go get me some new ones.”