Chapter 46 Mine After Hours
I loop my arms around his neck, melting into him like I always do when no one’s watching. For a second, I forget every rule we made about keeping this secret.
Then common sense kicks in, and I ease away, my pulse racing.
“We’re not supposed to… If I’m in here too long, people will talk.”
“They all think I hate you,” he says matter-of-factly. “They’ll just assume I’m chewing you out or burying you in a pile of files. Nothing unusual.”
He steals another quick kiss anyway, then another, each one deeper and more intimate than the last.
His hand slides to the small of my back, pulling me closer. “Besides, if you’re up for it…” He kisses me again, his tongue teasing mine, as his voice drops, “…we could lock the door right now, and I could bend you over this desk like I’ve been thinking about since you walked in.”
“Not here.” I interrupt, blushing so hard my ears burn. The mental image of what he's suggesting makes my thighs press together.
“Why not?” He grins at my embarrassment, his thumb caressing my cheek.
A low, amused chuckle leaves his throat, and my face turns even redder.
I try to slip past him toward the door, but he catches my hand and tugs me back against his chest.
“God, you’re so fucking adorable when you blush like that.”
I turn to face him fully, trying to look stern even though my heart wants to practically leap out of my chest. “We can go to my place later. Or yours. Pick one. But not here.”
“We’ll go to your place for a change,” he decides, green eyes darkening.
“I want to see you in your own bed. I want to fuck you somewhere that still smells like you when I leave.”
“Okay,” I breathe, the word coming out softer than I meant it to.
“Leave work early today.”
“Lawrence,” I chide with a little frown, even as heat gathers between my legs. “You have to treat me exactly like before. No special treatment. That was the deal.”
“Fine.” He shrugs, but the smirk on his lips says he’s not sorry at all. “Then, as your boss, I’m ordering you to clock out early.”
I playfully smack his chest. He grabs my wrist and draws me against him again, nuzzling into my neck with a childish little whine that shouldn’t be as hot as it is.
“Mmm, but I really want to fuck you right here on this desk, though,” he murmurs against my skin, in a rough tone. “The thought of pushing your skirt up, bending you over my files, and making you come so hard the entire floor hears you moaning my name, is driving me insane.”
Another wave of desire crashes through me at his words. I have to bite my lip hard to stop the whimper that wants to escape.
“But that’ll just have to happen some other time,” Lawrence says, pulling back to look at me, his green eyes gleaming with pure mischief.
I smile up at him, trying to ignore how badly my body is aching for what he just described. “Okay. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Mr Moore… I have to get back to work.”
He gives me a light slap on the ass as I turn toward the door.
I gasp, the sting sharp and delicious, and my face burns bright red all over again.
“See you soon, Miss Thorn,” he smirks
I leave his office grinning happily.
So much for dating your once ice-cold boss.
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LAWRENCE
This secret-relationship thing is going to kill me.
How the hell am I supposed to sit here like a normal boss when Scarlett walks into my office looking all efficient and buttoned-up like that? All I can think about... all I do is battle the urge to peel the clothes off her and bend her over this desk.
This same desk I'm supposed to be working on.
It’s my own version of hell.
But she’s right. We can’t risk it here. Not while half the floor still thinks I’m the boss from hell who’s making her life miserable.
I smirk at the thought. If only they knew I spent most of my nights with my face between her thighs until she was shaking and moaning my name.
An email chimes on my laptop, and I click it open.
It’s from Gloria, my secretary back in London.
Mr Moore, the team sends their regards. The London office isn’t the same without you. We’re all looking forward to your return next week.
I find myself scoffing out loud because the feeling isn’t mutual, which is funny. After all, that office used to be my life.
That towering London headquarters with the glass walls and breathtaking architecture... the endless meetings, the power.
It was everything. Now it just feels merely there.
I lean back in my chair and look around this office. It’s quite nice too, with the whole billionaire aesthetic, but it’s still nothing compared to the sleek, state-of-the-art setup in London.
The difference is staggering. And anyone in their right mind would choose London over this place.
Hell, it’s the dream posting for most of the staff here.
Yet I'm reluctant to go back.
Because for the first time in years, I’m content right here.
The reason is five-foot-six, red-haired, and currently sitting at the desk outside my door.
Scarlett Thorn.
My girlfriend.
I’m dragging my feet on that flight to London because of her.
Hell, she’s the reason this “temporary” stay in New York stopped feeling temporary weeks ago.
I close the email and sigh happily, spinning around in my chair.
The great Lawrence Moore reduced to a lovesick fool. And he doesn't mind.
I pick my phone up and type a quick message to her.
Your place. 5:15. Don’t make me come drag you out of that chair, Miss Thorn.
After hitting send, I lean back again, smiling to myself from the mere thought of her reading it at her desk, her cheeks turning that pretty shade of red while she tries to look professional.
I don't care if the rest of the office still thinks I’m a tyrant. As long as I get to have her all to myself, they can think whatever the hell they want.
My phone vibrates against the desk, with a message, and my pulse jumps with ridiculous hope as I reach for the phone too fast because I think Scarlett has replied to my text.
But it’s not her.
It’s Veronica.
The frown hits my face before I can stop it.
What the hell is this woman getting at?
The text is innocent, asking about my well-being again.
But I know better.
Scarlett wouldn’t like that she's still texting me. Hell, I don’t like it.
But telling her off over text would feel cheap. It needs to be done in person, face to face, so there’s no room for misunderstanding or lingering hope.
I’ll handle it when I’m back in London with Scarlett beside me.
For now, I ignore the message, setting the phone on the desk and smiling to myself.
Because in a few hours, I’ll be alone with my beautiful red-haired firecracker again.