Daring Devlin (Lost Boys #1) - Jessica Lemmon Page 0,28

met my eyes, clutched the sleeve of my uniform shirt with one fist, and boldly met my gaze.

Look at her go.

Trailing my fingers into the back of her pants, I cupped her ass with one palm. Thrusting my tongue into her mouth, I devoured her. She sparred with me for a few strokes before her lips closed over my tongue and sucked so hard, I saw stars.

I had to swallow before I found my voice and even then it was scratchy, shaky. “Ever been taken against a door, Rena?”

She shook her head, her lips tipping on one side. I bet she’d let me. Right here in this tiny, shitty office, with people outside the door. I liked that—knowing how far she’d let me take her.

She strained to kiss me, but I held my lips just a few inches from hers. Her warm breath dusted my lips and my cock gave an eager jerk. A tiny cry of protestation sounded in the back of her throat.

“Ever been taken from behind?” I asked.

Another headshake.

“Would you like to be?”

An eager nod. My balls tightened.

“Right now?”

She bit her lip. Almost time to let her off the hook. But this expedition had taught me plenty. I should be ashamed of myself for pushing her. Might have been if she hadn’t reached down right then and stroked my length over my checkered work pants.

“Sweetheart.” My voice came out in a strangled moan. I was rock hard. In pain. I rested my forehead against hers, pulled her body flush to mine. Her soft curves molded with my hard planes. She stroked again and air hissed through my teeth.

“That’s an invitation,” I growled.

“Handwritten,” she muttered against my lips.

Perhaps I’d made a mistake. This good girl was naughtier than I’d expected. I would have smiled if I wasn’t so into kissing her. I fisted the waist of her pants with one hand and tugged them down to her thighs.

Someone banged on the door, startling us apart. The lusty haze that had slipped over Rena’s eyes receded. She ducked under one of my arms and refastened her pants in record time. I caught a glimpse of pale, plump thighs. No stick legs on this one. My raging erection approved.

“What?” I yelled, parting the disheveled blinds with my fingers. One of the servers, Melinda, stood on the other side, her forehead crinkled.

“I need change for a hundred.” She slapped the bill against the glass.

Dammit. I brushed the blinds into place and ran my hand through my hair.

“I should go.” Rena moved for the door, but I blocked the knob. I couldn’t let her go out there looking like she did. She looked—God—beautiful. But also like she’d been half-dressed against a door and nearly brought to orgasm by her boss. That wasn’t good.

Well, it was good, but everyone finding out was not good.

The staff needed to believe we’d argued. And Rena and I had to sell it. I’d bet my restaurant that she only ever told the truth. I could work with that. If she believed I was angry despite what had just happened, her reaction would be what I needed it to be. That meant I’d have to lay it on thick.

“You ever pull a stunt like you did tonight, Lewis,” I shouted, knowing my voice would carry past the door, “I’ll fire your ass. I don’t give a shit how privileged you think you are; you have a job to do. If you’re on the clock, I expect you to do it.”

Her eyes clouded with confusion a second before they glittered with anger. I thought I saw the beginning of tears. Perfect. That was what I needed everyone to see. That I was an unfair asshole.

I pulled open the door for her. “You can go.”

A small audience of five had gathered outside the door. Their expressions of shock and disgust were priceless. Before Rena made it over the threshold, I called her name.

She spun around, the hurt on her face so prevalent my heart lurched. I would explain later, I vowed. Right now I had a show to perform.

“Forget something?” I pointed at her apron on the floor.

She pushed by me and snatched it, and then split the small crowd like bowling pins. I gestured for Melinda to come in, taking the hundred dollar bill from her outstretched hand. Kneeling, I opened the safe and counted out smaller bills to make change for her.

“She’s different, isn’t she?” Melinda’s tone was disapproving.

She was right, though. Rena was different. But Melinda meant