Chapter 27 I am Untouchable

Chapter 27 I am Untouchable
Elena Thorne

I should probably have a dozen more conditions—safeguards against the inevitable moment when this arrangement imploded and took me with it.

But his thumb was stroking the sensitive spot behind my ear, and his body was pressed against mine, and I couldn’t think of a single rational thing beyond the fact that I wanted him and he wanted me and maybe that could be enough.

“No,” I whispered. “No more rules.”

“Good.” His mouth hovered over mine. “Because I’ve been wanting to do this since I walked into that conference room and saw you looking all professional and untouchable.”

“I am untouchable.”

“Are you?” His lips brushed mine, barely making contact. “Prove it. Push me away.”

I couldn’t. My hands fisted in his shirt instead, pulling him closer, and when his mouth finally met mine properly, I stopped thinking altogether.

The kiss was different from the one in the storage room. No desperate fumbling in the dark, no pretense that this was anything other than what it was—pure want, physical need, and chemistry that had been building for three days until it had nowhere to go but here.

His tongue swept into my mouth, and I responded in kind. 

Kieran’s hand tangled in my hair, destroying the professional bun I’d spent twenty minutes perfecting, and I didn’t care. My hands moved from his chest to his shoulders, gripping hard enough that I felt the muscles bunch under my fingers.

He broke the kiss only to trail his mouth down my jaw, finding that spot on my neck that made me gasp. “Still untouchable?” he murmured against my skin.

“Shut up.”

He let out a chuckle. “Make me.”

I pulled his mouth back to mine, kissing him hard enough to prove a point I wasn’t entirely sure I was making. His response was immediate as his hands moved from my hair to my waist, pulling me flush against him so I could feel exactly how much he wanted this.

“Elena. Tell me you want this.”

“I want this,” I breathed, and felt him smile against my mouth.

“Say it again.”

“I want this. I want you.” The admission should have felt like defeat. Instead, it felt like relief. “Now are you going to keep talking, or—”

He spun me around, pressing me against the bathroom wall, his body covering mine from behind. His mouth found my ear. “Or what?”

“Or are you going to prove you’re as good as you claimed to be?”

I felt his smile against my neck. “Challenge accepted.”

His hands moved with purpose now. One hand slid up my side, fingers finding the edge of my blazer and pushing it off my shoulders. 

“These clothes,” he muttered, his mouth hot against my neck. “You dress like you’re trying to hide. Like you don’t want anyone to see you.”

“Maybe I don’t.”

“Too bad.” His fingers found the buttons of my blouse. “Because I see you, Elena. All of you.”

I did not realize when a bob went down my throat.

He made quick work of the buttons, and I felt the silk slide from my shoulders, joining the blazer on the floor. Cool air hit my skin, followed immediately by the warmth of his palms as they traced up my sides.

“You’re shaking,” he observed.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you?” He turned me to face him, his eyes searching mine. “We can stop. Right now. If you want to.”

It was the out I needed, the chance to reclaim some dignity and walk away from this with my self-respect intact.

“I don’t want to stop,” I replied and watched satisfaction flare in his eyes.

“Good.” His mouth claimed mine again, harder this time, and his hands resumed their exploration.

I reached for his shirt, fumbling with buttons that seemed unnecessarily complicated, and he made an impatient sound before pulling it over his head in one smooth motion. Then his hands were on me again, and I forgot to be embarrassed about my own eager fingers mapping the planes of his chest, the definition of his abs, or the V-cut that disappeared into his waistband.

“Turn around,” he said, his voice rough with want.

I hesitated only a moment before obeying, facing the wall as his hands found my waist. I felt him against my back, solid and warm, and then his mouth was on my shoulder, my neck, and later it moved to that sensitive spot behind my ear.

“Put your hands on the wall,” he instructed, and I complied, my palms pressing against the cool tile.

His hands moved to my hips, then lower, finding the zipper of my slacks. The sound of it lowering seemed impossibly loud in the quiet bathroom.

“Kieran—”

“I’ve got you.” His hands pushed the fabric down, taking my underwear with it, and I stepped out of them on trembling legs. “Trust me.”

I shouldn’t trust him. Trusting him had done me no good.

But when his hands smoothed up the backs of my thighs, when his mouth found the curve of my shoulder, when he pressed against me and I felt how much he wanted this—trust seemed like the least complicated thing in the world.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured against my skin. “Do you know that? Absolutely perfect.”

“Don’t.” I sighed. “Don’t say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because we agreed. This is just physical. You don’t get to sweet-talk me.”

He chuckled again and I was only realizing how incredible his laugh had always been. 

“Fair enough. How about this instead, you feel incredible. Your skin is so soft I can’t stop touching it. And I’ve been hard since I saw you in that conference room, imagining this exact scenario.”

Heat flooded through me at his blunt honesty. “That’s better.”

“Is it?” His hand slid around to my stomach, fingers splaying wide. “Tell me what you want, Elena.”

“I want—” My breath caught as his other hand moved higher, cupping my breast through my bra. “I want you to stop teasing.”

“This is teasing?” His thumb brushed over my nipple through the fabric, and I felt it harden instantly. “I’m just getting started.”