no.’ Rational thought has abandoned me, as it always does when I’m with Becker Hunt. It’s been ambushed by recklessness, and in this enlightening moment, I seem to have lost the inclination to reason with my idiocy. ‘And you really don’t want me to stop looking at your arse,’ I add.
He gives me a lopsided grin. ‘It’s a good arse.’
‘You have no idea,’ I breathe, feeling something between us shift. It’s acceptance.
But then his smile falls away and his gaze falls with it, before he breathes in deeply and slowly lets his eyes climb up my body again, pausing now and then. When we’re staring at each other, for what feels like minutes, he asks, ‘What’s happening here, princess?’
‘I don’t know,’ I admit quietly, willing him to give his thoughts on our confusing clashes – both the mental ones and the physical.
‘Me neither.’ His whole forehead creases as he slips his hands into his pockets. ‘You piss me off on an hourly basis.’
‘Likewise.’
He smiles. ‘You also turn me on as often.’
‘Likewise,’ I say again, no holding back.
‘Trying to be angry when my cock is throbbing isn’t easy. It’s like the anger enhances how much I want you.’
I lose my breath, my hand beginning to shake on the gold doorknob. I’m not sure whether it’s safe to release it. My legs feel like jelly. He’s really not holding back. ‘Becker, I love this job.’ I need him to know that.
He begins to nod slowly in understanding. ‘And I love you being here.’
‘To annoy you?’
‘To look at you.’ He starts to approach me, and my back instinctively melds to the door. ‘I could look at you all day, princess.’
‘You don’t get to call me princess,’ I murmur. I’m being arrested by a desire so potent, I’m struggling to remember what he should be calling me. What’s my name?
He reaches me in a few lazy strides and presses the whole of his front into mine, pinning me to the door. I gulp, scared to look into his eyes. Becker doesn’t have the same fear. He rests the tip of his finger lightly under my chin and applies the lightest of pressure, not forcing me at all, so when I lift my face to confront him, he knows it’s with nothing but willingness. Our mouths brush. If I let my tongue venture past my lips, I could taste him again. This close, it’s all I can think of. But then he speaks, and my hunger reaches unbearable levels. ‘What I choose to call you won’t feature in that pretty little head of yours, princess, when—’
‘You’re violating me in the most delicious ways imaginable.’ I let the words out on a wisp of lustful air and release the doorknob.
‘Precisely.’ He grabs me with conviction, sinking his fingers into my hair and gripping hard. ‘Any final words, Miss Cole?’
‘Yes.’ I link my hands around his shoulders and push my forehead to his. ‘This doesn’t count as my bonus.’
His eyes gleam in wonder. ‘And what I’m about to do doesn’t count as sexual harassment.’
‘Fine.’
‘Fine.’
Our mouths smash together violently, Becker pushing me into the door roughly. My mind is bombarded with a million memories from last night. Amazing memories. Memories I want to keep for ever. And memories I’m about to build on.
My hands take on a mind of their own, pulling at his shirt, wrenching it from his trousers so I can slide my hands over his chest. I moan my happiness when my palms find his stomach, my fingers tracing and discovering the perfect ripples all over again. He rolls us suddenly and his back slams against the door harshly, creating a deafening thud.
‘Fucking hell.’ He grabs my spare hand and directs it to the bulge beneath his trousers. I squeeze as I pant, and he clenches his eyes shut, sliding his hands on to my bum and massaging gently. The light pressure on my tender cheeks reminds me of the last time he was there. ‘Me and your arse are going to become very friendly, Eleanor.’
I moan and shamelessly push into his hands, nibbling on his chin, then I’m rolling, my back against the door again. His hands move to the waist of my jeans and slowly drift to the front, skimming my skin lightly on their way. Every inch of me is tingling, my mind spacing out as he tackles my mouth again.
Bang.
My body jolts forward, pushing into Becker’s, but I don’t give up his mouth.