Warning Track (Callahan Family #1) - Carrie Aarons Page 0,56

but enough to hit an angle inside of me that has me muffling screams. It’s a good thing those fireworks are so loud, because I can’t be held accountable for the sounds I make right now.

“You’re fucking beautiful like this. Hair down, wild and uninhibited.” He’s pumping his cock into me with reckless abandon. “I want to hear you say my name.”

At any moment, someone could walk by and see us through the slim glass cutouts that bracket my office door. Or they could hear my loud moans or Hayes’ gruff growls between the boom of the color show lighting up our faces just outside the wall of windows. That’s what makes this even more scintillating, as wrong as that seems. I’m getting off on the forbidden nature of sex with this man; we’re two people who should definitely not be having intercourse, especially inside the building we both work in. Especially with the roles we occupy, with me being his boss essentially.

But that only adds to the passion of it. We’re not even undressed, just certain garments have been shoved aside so we can mate like animals in heat.

“Yes. Oh … yesss …” My response is careening, one of his thumbs coming to press down on my clit as he thrusts.

“Say my name, Colleen. When you come on my cock, you say my name,” he demands, and I combust from his dirty words.

“Hayes.” I feel adrift, the tremors of my orgasm shaking my entire body.

Distantly, I hear some of the frames fall off the cabinet I’m positioned on, probably because my limbs are shaking with the seizure of my release. I can pinpoint the carnal sensation to one spot, and then it’s all over, rippling through my muscles.

“Look at me.” Hayes grips the back of my neck, squaring my eyes with his.

I see it, the exact moment he lets himself go and spills into me. Those emeralds take on an even darker green hue, and his jaw clicks. I watch as he loses himself to the climax, and it’s possibly the hottest, rawest thing I’ve ever seen.

Outside, the grand finale of fireworks is still booming, sending cracks of light through my office as we pant in unison. Hayes stays inside me for what feels like a long time, his lips tracing my neck as my hands smooth up and down his back. It’s the best form of post-coital cuddling we can do, since we had sex on a cabinet in my office.

And even though we’ve opened up Pandora’s box, a can of worms we can’t close, part of my heart feels sated.

Because now I know that I haven’t been avoiding relationships or am just uninterested in most men. No, I’ve been waiting for this man.

25

Hayes

The camera flashes again, and I pose, listening to the directions from the photographer.

“That’s right, now put this leg out in front, but hold the bat here, so we don’t get too much of your family jewels. We can edit them out later.”

I do as he says, twisting my body so that you can see a flash of my ass, but not the whole frank and beans. The photo shoot is for the Anatomy Issue of one of the most famous sports magazine’s in the country, and it highlights the way top athlete’s muscles and structures contribute to their success in professional sports.

But I can’t say it isn’t awkward as hell.

“Oh, good, glad you can edit out the testes.” Clark snickers from the sidelines.

He’s featured in the issue as well, and I won’t say I’m not self-conscious being put on the same pages as him. Clark is five years younger than I am, he still has that rookie sheen about him without all the inexperience. He’s naturally cocky and charming, whereas I’m more reserved and introverted. Today alone, he’s made almost the entire set fall in love with him, including the men.

But it’s a huge honor, being featured in the Anatomy Issue. Especially at my age, when I no longer possess those early-twenties frat boy muscles that were more natural and came easier than the ones I have to sweat and kill myself for in the gym now. I’m fucking proud of the body I’ve built, how hard I work to keep it up, and that I seem to still be able to run laps with the young guys and play even better than them at times.

“Place the glove in front of you, right there, strategically, that’s it!” The photographer tells me, as one of