The Boy Who Has No Belief - Victoria Quinn Page 0,43

And that’s why when shit goes wrong, I can’t sleep at night. Because I can’t live with that on my conscience. Yes, I know they’re aware of the risks, but they’re also trusting my big-ass brain to do this right. At the end of the day, the blame falls to me. So, doing the best I can is not good enough. If that rocket explodes, I can’t just sit there and say, ‘Oh well, I did the best I could.’ I have to live with that. Do you not understand that?”

She stilled at my outburst and stared at me.

I breathed through the anxiety and realized that I’d let the darkness get the best of me, that she was just trying to make me feel better, and I’d decided to be an ass instead. I bowed my head and sighed. “I’m sorry—”

“Shh.” She wrapped her arms around me and embraced me, her hand rubbing my back as she gave me a warm hug, a hug full of unconditional support, a hug that told me everything would be okay, that she still felt the same way about me at my worst just as if it were my best. “It’s okay, Derek. I will never be able to appreciate the stress on your shoulders, and I wish I could carry that with you, but I can’t. But I’m here, always.” She hugged me tightly and gave me the time to decompress.

My arms surrounded her, and I squeezed her tighter, taking a deep breath when I embraced the comfort I didn’t know I needed. My fingers squeezed the fabric of her dress as I rested my chin on her head, her perfume invading my senses and subduing my anger even more. It gave me peace…slow, still peace.

I was alone in the lab, working in solitude like usual. Emerson was in my office, organizing the pile of paperwork I’d thrown all over the place because I always seemed to be in a hurry.

Then her heels tapped against the floor as she approached my table.

I looked up to meet her gaze.

She stood in black heels and strappy lingerie, thick, black lines of fabric crossing her body in various places, just a little bit covering her nipples. With her hands on her hips, she looked at me with attitude then flipped her hair over her shoulder and strutted back into my office, silently commanding me and turning me into a drooling dog.

I slammed my laptop shut then went after her like a hungry animal, walking quickly even though I knew she wasn’t going anywhere. I entered my office and found her bent over on the couch, her ass sticking out, an opening in the lingerie so she wouldn’t have to take anything off for me to fuck her.

Now I understood why guys fucked their assistants all the time.

I pulled my hoodie over my head then stripped off the rest of my clothes, getting down to my bare skin before I moved behind her and grabbed her by the back of the neck. She looked damn fine bent over my couch in the sluttiest lingerie I’d ever seen, but fucking her with a perfect view of her beautiful behind wasn’t what I had in mind.

I grabbed her by the shoulder and rolled her onto her back, so she lay flat against the couch.

She looked up at me before sitting up on her elbows, clearly surprised that I didn’t want what she offered.

I moved on top of her and positioned myself between her smooth thighs, one arm hooking behind her knee as I opened her and smothered her with my body. My arms kept me on top of her, and I looked into her face as I slid inside her, inched inside the place I called home, felt her skin-on-skin, heart-on-heart. I watched as her eyes widened as she felt me, listened to her quiet whimpers as she felt me enter her creamy slit.

Her hands moved to my back, and her nails immediately started to dig.

Without kissing her, I rocked into her, my breathing matching hers as we got going, the desire consuming me the way it consumed her. With every thrust, I felt weaker, as if just the touch of her was enough to make me shoot for the stars. Getting lost with her at this level of intimacy, her soul wrapped around mine, both of us laid bare to each other, brought me the greatest arousal I’d ever known. It was because I trusted her, trusted her