him hauling her into a deserted corner and kissing her senseless.
Somehow he’d managed to sit beside her for hours on end as they reviewed images and copy and stats, without sliding his hand under her skirt and seeing if she was as wet as he was hard.
And then Thursday happened.
“Tiny,” he barked, the second he stepped off the elevator. “Where the hell have you been?”
She blinked in surprise at his harsh tone. “I was at lunch.”
He’d known she was at lunch. He also knew who she was at lunch with.
Cole’s gaze shifted to Lincoln, who was standing beside Penelope and looking at Cole with a knowing smirk.
“We would have asked you to join,” Penelope said, clearly confused at his anger, “but you were on the phone, and we had to be back by one, so—”
He had been on the phone. He’d been trying once again to get hold of Bobby, only to find out that his brother was busy. Again.
Cole was happy his brother had a life. Had friends. Was happy that his brother was happy.
It was just…
For years, Cole had known that he was all his brother had. That his brother needed him.
But there were times when Cole was struck with the realization that Bobby was all he had. His only family.
And Bobby never meant to blow him off—his brother would die if he thought he’d hurt anyone’s feelings, much less Cole’s….
And yet, hurt his feelings were.
Which put him a damn shitty mood.
“Relax, Pen,” Lincoln was saying to Penelope. “We haven’t done anything wrong.”
He punctuated this statement by placing his hand just briefly on Penelope’s back and Cole had the strangest urge to drive his fist into Lincoln’s face.
What the hell was wrong with him?
Lincoln was his friend. Penelope was his…friend.
They were both his colleagues, and they were absolutely allowed to go to lunch together.
And yet…and yet—
He scowled at Penelope. “Do you have a few minutes? We have to make that US Open layout by end of day.”
“That’s going to take four hours?” Lincoln asked in sham confusion, glancing at his watch.
Cole ignored him, storming toward his office and hoping more than he should that Penelope would follow.
“I’m really sorry we didn’t wait for you,” Penelope said as she came into his office.
Cole shut the door without replying.
She touched his arm. “Hey, are you okay?”
He frowned at the question. Cole Sharpe was always okay. Cole Sharpe was the one who made everyone else laugh, who put everyone at ease, who always had the quick comeback and the ready smile.
But sometimes…sometimes, he wanted to lean.
Just a little. Or, at the very least, to simply be, without always having a quip at the ready. And when she was looking at him with those damn big eyes, all wide and compassionate, and hell, caring, he wanted to lean on her.
“Cole?”
“Fuck it,” he muttered.
His hands wrapped around Penelope’s arms and he jerked her toward him and claimed her mouth.
It was a graceless, hungry kiss. It had none of his usual finesse, but he needed it. Needed her.
He was so lost in the taste of her that it took him a moment to realize she’d gone still against him.
He pulled back slightly and gave her a questioning glance.
“Cole, you know the rules,” she said, her eyes locked on his mouth. “No blending work and pleasure, no sex on weekdays—”
He dropped his hands from her arms, releasing her, but he didn’t step back. There were mere inches separating them, and he wondered if she felt the heat between them as acutely as he did.
How had this happened? How was it that this sweet, feisty tomboy could turn him on just as easily as she turned him completely inside out every time she looked at him?
“Come on, Cole. Don’t do this.” Her voice was a whisper now.
His hands itched to reach for her again, but he forced himself to stay. To wait.
He grinned in triumph as she shrugged slightly, letting her purse fall to the floor with a quiet thump as her arms lifted to wind around his neck.
Their lips collided as they devoured each other.
Was it possible it had only been three and a half days since he’d last tasted her lips? Since he’d last run his hands over her lithe body?
It felt like forever.
He wrapped his fingers low on her hips, holding her snugly against his already hard cock as her hands roamed restlessly over his back.
“I hate this suit jacket,” she said with a little gasp, when he pulled back and bent his