the door to open any second, my lips stay wrapped around Ryder.
“Shit,” he spits angrily. “You’re going to have to touch yourself, duchess. I had much better plans in mind, but I can’t let you leave this stairwell aching. Touch your pussy for me and finish us both off.”
My fingers find my slick entrance, swollen, throbbing. I had other plans, too, but he’s right. If we’re about to be interrupted, this is better than nothing. As I take him deeper and suck him harder, his breathing grows louder. I can feel his release building inside him, can feel my own climbing up that same peak.
The door creaks open.
But no one enters the stairwell. I hear the woman’s voice, but she’s clearly still talking to someone out in the hallway.
“Hurry,” Ryder urges in a whisper. “Come on those fingers for me, duchess.”
Is he waiting on me?
Aw, how sweet.
And no, that wasn’t sarcasm.
When I rub my clit, I swear I achieve nirvana. My thighs are shaking so violently with my climax that I almost lose my balance. My nails dig into Ryder’s thigh to hold myself upright. He follows closely behind me, his release shooting down my throat and sending my mind reeling all over again. When his fingers tighten in my hair, I know he’s exhibiting monumental restraint to stay quiet. After experiencing how vocal he can be in the bedroom last weekend, it’s probably painful for him.
The door at the top of the stairs clicks shut. The woman is still talking on the other side of it, giving us a few more moments of seclusion.
I rise to my feet and smooth down my skirt. He doesn’t immediately tuck himself back in his pants. Instead, he looks like he wants to strangle me and devour me in the same breath. Then, as if he can’t help himself, he collapses against me and claims my mouth with his own.
Something about that surrendering action cuts through me—deep—like a machete in the bush. Even though we’re on the verge of being discovered, he can’t even be bothered to cover himself because he’s too focused on stealing another kiss. Too overwrought by his passion to care about getting caught by that woman.
Nothing will stop me from kissing you right now, duchess.
That’s the vibe I’m getting.
So many aspects of Ryder’s personality call to me. His rebellious, non-conformist side. His aversion to convention. His unrelenting insistence that he do things his own way and no one is going to tell him otherwise. Ryder is his own person through and through. In all honesty, he’s had my admiration ever since my first week at TCG.
But could I give him something more? And would he even want it?
“That was one hell of a Christmas bonus,” I say breathlessly as I replace the silver pin in my hair.
He chokes out a laugh, finally shoving himself back inside his briefs. “Duchess, I think you’ve earned one hell of a raise.”
I pat him on the cheek. “I’d like that in writing, please.”
With his hand on my lower back, he guides us back up the stairs and out into the hallway. The woman is still talking to her friend, who both seem oblivious to what just took place inside that stairwell. I catch Ryder’s eye out of the corner of mine as we enter the ballroom, and we both burst into laughter. I know we need to flip that switch that turns us back into the boss and employee who hate each other.
But laughing with him just feels so good.
We’re still smiling like pre-teens who just had their first seven minutes in heaven experience when we step onto the patio. He discreetly gives my waist a quick goodbye squeeze just before he traipses off to once again mingle with the crowd. I scan the area in search of my friends when I sense someone watching me.
Sonja.
From one of the high-top tables, she watches me over the rim of her wine glass. Because I know how intelligent the woman is, my guard is immediately thrown back up as wariness creeps into my bones. Her gaze sidles over to where Ryder is speaking with a group of people. Then it comes right back to me, narrowing in speculation. The sparkle in her eyes is—knowing.
Mother shit.
We were too obvious and now a co-worker suspects something. Sonja and I have always had a good relationship. She’s not a gossip or a bitch. She’s a hard worker, and everyone around the office loves her.
But would she talk?
I plaster