Chapter 13

I should have exited the car as soon as we arrived. But I didn't want to be rude, and I also didn't want the moment to end. This tension within me every time he's around is draining, but it's also addictive.

So, I stayed, and now, all I can see is Lex and his fiery gaze. My heart beats harder and faster with every second that passes. I'm so overwhelmed by my own feelings that it takes me a while to register what I'm actually seeing.

Need.

Want.

Desire .

No, that's the wine talking. There's no way the Alexander Colemans of this world want the Andrea Walkers. He's a god among us, and my closest celebrity doppelg?nger is Dora the Explorer.

But then, why did he save my address in his car's GPS? I've been trying to make sense of that since I noticed it earlier, and I can't figure out what it means.

I need to go before I do or say something stupid. My lips part to utter a goodbye, and that catches his gaze. Right there, I get my answer. His pupils dilate until only a thin ring of dark gray surrounds them. If actions or words can be hard to interpret, biology isn't.

Kate was right. She saw something I was too blind and clueless to notice. This whole thing isn't as one-sided as I thought. Alexander wants me.

Alcohol seems to have knocked down the voice of reason that's supposed to counterbalance my irrational thoughts because nothing comes up to contradict them.

That's probably why the rest unfolds the way it does.

I tilt toward him hastily, only to be painfully reminded of the seatbelt, which I unbuckle with a curse. This time, he's already halfway there when I reach for his nape.

With a brutality that shows our impatience, our mouths collide.

The moment our lips touch, everything else fades. It's as though I've waited months for this, years, instead of mere weeks. The shiver that runs through my entire body and ends between my legs is indescribable. With my hand still on his neck, I pull him harder, tilting my head to the side to adjust the angle of our kiss.

I vaguely hear the clicking of his seatbelt being undone, and then he turns to face me better. His hands reach for me soon after, one on my waist and one on the back of my head, and he eagerly draws me closer despite the console separating us.

The warm, silky touch of his tongue grazes over my lips, and it sends another one of those mind-blowing shivers all the way to my core. A moan escapes my mouth as I unlock my jaw to give him the access he demands. Soon, he's invading me, demanding and voracious. My fervor equals his, and in an instant, we're battling to sample each other.

One month of unsatisfied needs and built-up frustration is unleashing at once.

This is far beyond any expectation I might have had, so much more than all the fantasies I had of him. It's all so overwhelming, and I'm burning inside out, but I still need so much more. A helpless moan travels from my mouth to his as I try to get closer to him, to feel more of him, but the wide middle console prevents it. I want his body pressed against mine, and I want it now.

As if I actually expressed my needs out loud, his hand reaches for my thigh, under the hem of my dress, and with impressive strength, he pulls me over the separation and onto him. I focus on keeping our kiss going as he maneuvers me on his lap until I'm straddling him. Hoisted up like this, our faces are perfectly aligned, and I can enjoy him more thoroughly.

His hands are now moving up and down my body, caressing my naked back, apparently as greedy as I am to feel more. I get lost in our kiss, feverish and dizzy. Starved for more, I eagerly press my throbbing core against him to find some relief. With only a thin layer of lace shielding me, my pussy might as well be directly on him.

Oh, my… Someone is as aroused as I am, and that someone has to be hiding a baseball bat in there.

Framing his handsome face, I devour him, giving him the boldest kiss I've ever given anyone. I'm shamelessly licking, exploring the convoluted warmth of his mouth, greedily taking everything. I could kiss him like this for hours, bending to the will of his lips, melting every time his expert tongue grazes mine in lascivious touches.

Even with my sparse knowledge and little experience, I know Alexander Coleman is particularly divine at this. He's as restless as I am to feel more, to taste more, to get more, but he isn't taking control, nor is he passive under me. We share the moment.

How many women has he kissed to become this good? How many hours of it for me to be so entranced?

Somehow, I refuse to be just one more of these women. I'm far from being the first and most certainly won't be the last. But I can leave a mark. I'm unsure how to upgrade my kissing game, but I must try.

With his wet lower lip between my teeth, I gently pull on it, biting just hard enough to make him groan without actually hurting him. When I release him, he looks at me through heavy eyelids, his cheekbones reddened by our passionate embrace. My face is probably even more flushed, my skin burning from the madness of it all.

I'm bolder than I've ever been when I bend forward to follow the outline of his lush lips with the pointed tip of my tongue. Whenever he tries to kiss me, to end the taunting, I refuse him, anchoring my resistance on the backrest behind him. His hand reaches for my nape, and he pulls me down to him, but I counter his will once more. I want to make him beg for it.

But when he fists a handful of my hair and pulls on it harshly, I'm the one about to beg. I'm drenched already, and the electric pain it unleashes only makes it worse.

"Aah, fuck," I moan, shivering from head to toe and pressing myself harder onto him.

"Andrea," he growls threateningly.

That's begging, isn't it? I decide it is.

My proud smirk when I retake his lips quickly fades. My little teasing did its trick a little too well. There's no more holding back on his part. But it's okay because I want more. I need all of it.

A primal need, the most basic of instincts, takes over my brain. Shamelessly, I slowly undulate on his lap, pressing myself at a lascivious pace over the rigid shape there. That part of me is begging for satisfaction, and I'm too inebriated to deny myself this. I can feel with incredible intensity each ripple, each fold of the thick fabric of his slacks, and it's driving me insane.

My audacity rips another groan from him, and a sudden burst of pride encourages me to keep going. His hands move up my bare outer thighs, beneath the dress, before settling firmly on my behind. Because I'm wearing a thong, they rest directly on my skin, igniting yet another lustful shiver in me.

Fuck… How is kissing this man even better than I imagined?

I 'm drowning in a misty haze of lust, and nothing can break through it.

My nose is filled with sweet jasmine, my tongue is high on the taste of hers, and my hands are full of her ass, the flesh soft and malleable under my audacious fingers. I'm still not sure what's going on or how it happened, but it feels as though four weeks of contained lust are unleashing with voracious intensity.

Andrea fucking Walker, the petite, freckled Latina who's been driving me mad since she stepped into my life is undulating on top of me, that heated spot between her legs eagerly rubbing against mine. We're fucking completely dressed, and neither of us seems to care that we're in a car out in the street, or that she's my employee and I'm her boss. She doesn't even remember that she can't stand me.

I'm so hard it hurts, my cock rock solid under her, desperate to plunge into her soft and warm wetness. Rapturous, I tug her closer, squeezing her ass as I assist her undulations.

She wants this as much as I do. I feel blindsided by it because I never would have thought the untamable lust I've been feeling for her was reciprocated. I missed the signals, per usual. I thought I was getting better at understanding body language and nonverbal cues, but I missed them all with her.

Her lips tear away from mine with a sensuous sigh, but I'm not done with her taste yet. I lick and nibble at the delicate column of her throat, hungrily sampling her, hands still pressing her onto me in rhythm.

She's so damned wet that I can feel it seeping through the thick fabric of my slacks. My fingers slide against the drenched fabric of her underwear, so damp it's slick against my fingertips. The light touch makes her tremble on top of me.

I pull away enough to gaze at her while I trace a firm line along her lace-clad slit. "You're fucking soaked."

She nods, and when I press on her clit, she buckles and curses. "Shit, Lex… I need you."

I should probably put an end to this, but the only thing I can think of is how easy it would be to actually fuck her. My zipper down, her thong tugged to the side, and then a long, deep, and maddening thrust.

The mere thought of it has precum leaking out of me, my hips bucking up with need. This moment could last for eternity, but it still wouldn't be enough. With a hand still on her ass, I use the other one to fondle her breast. It fits perfectly in my palm, small and perky, and I hold back from ripping the top half of her dress to free them. The nipple hardens like a diamond under my touch, and I pinch it between two fingers, just roughly enough to make her release a soft plea—half-cry, half-moan.

It seems I'm not the only one who craves more because she reaches for my belt between us. Understanding what she wants, I freeze. "I have an IUD," she breathes against my lips. "And I'm clean. Are you?"

I give her a single nod, hands clutching her ass. We shouldn't do this. For so many reasons, we shouldn't.

Her fumbling hands get the best of my belt, and she slides it out of the buckle before moving on to the button.

"Are you sure about this?" My voice is altered by passion, just like hers.

She lets out a moan, resuming her undulations. "No… But I need it."

Her tongue is in my mouth again before I can answer, robbing me of my ability to think.

It turns out I'm not as strong as I believe myself to be because I cave in and assist her with unfastening my slacks. This maddening need won't be satisfied until I'm deeply planted inside her.

I lift myself to lower my pants, which lifts her with me, so she clings to my neck. Just as I'm about to push the slacks down, the unexpected sound of someone hitting the car's roof startles us both.

"Woo-hoo! Yeah, man! Hit that pussy!" a man shouts outside.

It stops me more efficiently than a bucket of icy water would have, and Andrea jolts away from me. In her haste to set some distance between us, she accidentally hits the steering wheel behind her, honking. A small cluster of drunk people is passing next to the Mercedes, and the sound attracts their attention. The man who yelled is already done with us, but a few others peek inside the car.

I glare at them, cursing their horrible sense of timing.

When I turn back to her, I understand that the sensuous mood has turned into embarrassment and awkwardness. She's temptation incarnate, with her lips swollen, her eyes ravenous, her cheeks flushed…

The night doesn't have to be over yet. I can take her to my place, and we can resume in a more private setting. I'm not ready to let her go. Not now that I know she wants me as much as I want her.

"Andrea, I—"

"Don't," she stops me, reaching for the door.

She extracts herself from my lap, avoiding my aching cock as she does, and exits the car. As soon as she's out, she takes a few wobbly steps away from me, rearranging her dress and passing a hand over her face. I hastily refasten my slacks, ignoring the wetness she left there .

I join her outside, adamant to soothe the situation. We're adults who are into one another. It happens.

"Andrea," I try again, grazing her bare shoulder.

She shrugs away from my touch and turns around to face me. "No. Don't say anything. This never happened. We're drunk and tired, and it got the best of us."

Ah. So this is how she wants to play it? Like it never happened? "Right. The wine did it," I respond with sarcasm.

Like the obstinate, insufferable woman she is, she says, "Yes, of course."

Alright then. If she wants to act like none of it was real, we will. Exasperated, I pass a hand through my hair. Without another word, I return to my car, bend inside to grab her clutch, and return with it. With a dry gesture, I hand it to her.

"There you go. I'm sorry the wine made you assault me."

She angrily frowns at me, like this isn't precisely what she's implying. Halfway back to my car, I feel the need to make things clear on my side, so I spin around again. "I'm not intoxicated, Andrea, or I wouldn't have driven you home." Then, after a few seconds of hesitation, I'm gone for good, slamming the door behind me. The tires screech on the asphalt as I take off.

The entire car smells of her, so I open the windows. But I can't do anything about the scent of her arousal etched on my fingers. Not until I get home. Once that is gone as well, there will be nothing left of the heated minutes we just shared.

Nothing but the fucking memory of it, forever engraved in my mind.

L ong after his car disappeared into the night, I was still there, holding my bag in front of me. I don't know how to fucking cope with what happened, but mostly, I don't know what to make of his admission.

It's all a drunken mistake for me, but for him… it isn't?

I'll have to share an office with the man, knowing we were ten seconds away from fucking each other's brains out. I'll have to sit next to him, aware that he almost filled me with his dick—raw at that—and he was in full control of his capacities. He wanted it.

And as much as I deny it, I wanted it too—alcohol or not .

What is wrong with me?!

With a desperate whimper, I eventually move to my building and go up to my apartment in a sour mood. Once in my room, I see Kate's sleepy form on my bed, tucked under the covers. Like a fucking idiot, I accidentally slam my shin on the corner of my bed, waking her up.

"Deedee, is that you? What time is it?" her sleepy voice asks as she reaches for the lamp on her nightstand.

"Shh… It's late, go back to sleep."

Light floods the bedroom regardless, and fuck my life. I know exactly what she'll think because I saw myself in the elevator's mirror. I look like I just had sex.

"Shut up," I order in anticipation. "Don't say it. Don't even think about it. Just go back to sleep."

"Well, at least I know you didn't get laid, or you'd be more relaxed."

As I gather what I need for my shower, she sleepily adds, "Did he trip and his tongue slipped down your throat?"

"You aren't nearly as funny as you think you are, Katherine."

"I'm hilarious. You're just too frustrated to appreciate it. Take Idris with you. I don't want you to hump me during the night."

"Fuck you," I say as I head to the door with my stuff.

"I love you too."

In the bathroom, I avoid my reflection in the mirror. I strip, throw the dress in the laundry basket, and wince at how sticky my thong is. Lex definitely left with some of me smeared on the front of his pants.

I hop in the shower, eager to erase all traces of him from my body. My moves are practical and efficient, soaping and scrubbing. They become more delicate when I reach the space between my legs. The simple gesture of my hand wiping away the wetness gathered there sends jolts of pleasure through my spine. Fuck, taking Idris with me wasn't such a bad idea after all.

Feeling like a hypocrite, I roll a couple of fingers over my aching clit and close my eyes to think of him .

We're back in his car, and I relive the moment we were interrupted. Except this time, the drunk group never passes by, so no one stops us from continuing.

In my fantasy, he opens his pants and wiggles them down just enough to free his cock, which juts out with enthusiasm. Imaginary Andrea seizes it, tugs her panties to the side, and then slowly comes down on him, impaling herself on his sinfully hard flesh. I shiver against the cold tiles of the shower, imagining myself bouncing up and down his dick, bracing my arm against the roof of the car to take all of him, gazing into his darkened irises .

With my eyes still closed, I bite my lip and intensify the rhythm of my fingers, feeling the tension build up inside me. Back in my fantasy, he undoes the tie at my neck to pull down the upper part of my dress while I keep fucking him with increasing momentum. I can still remember with accuracy the sensation of his hand on my breast, the way he gently pinched its taut tip. In my fantasy, though, he bends down to take my nipple in his warm mouth.

My climax takes me by surprise, exploding before I can envision the imaginary couple reaching theirs. I tremble and jolt, holding back my moans as I find my release.

It's good. It's exquisite, even.

But the sweet ache of it isn't enough. Not even close. When I open my eyes, the cold light of the bathroom harshly throws me back into reality, and all the pleasure goes down the drain with the water washing over me.

I shouldn't keep doing this, but I can't seem to stop myself. Alexander Coleman has a direct line to my libido, and I've never come so easily in my life than when I think of him. I'm so pathetic.

On Monday, I'll be back with him. But not in the way I crave because I love this job too much to risk it over sex.

Not even sex with him.