Chapter 35

MELODY

Later

The weather shifts abruptly,with dark clouds gathering across the sky, and rain coming down.

My eyes are on the window when Mina sticks her head in and asks me if my food has arrived.

"Not yet," I say before pushing out of my seat and prancing to the door.

"Let me call them," she says, and we both stroll into the corridor before entering the cubicle across from mine.

Mina ends the call and assures me my food is on the way while I review financial reports with a co-worker.

Two other people join us in the room, and the space becomes crowded when I glance over my shoulder and notice a man with a brown bag walking down the corridor.

He wears a cap and a rain jacket, and his face escapes my view.

I turn to Mina to let her know my food has arrived, yet she's busy with someone else.

Something bugs me, though.

She just called the restaurant. Maybe the man was in the building when she called.

I look back and notice a silhouette in my office.

The man is tall and broad-shouldered, and his jacket glistens with rain. He sets the food on the table, and nothing seems unusual, yet I still can't tear my eyes away from him.

My colleague needs my opinion, so I peel my eyes away from the stranger and talk to him.

A few moments pass before I excuse myself and go straight to my office.

The door is open––it always is––and the room smells like food.

Iwalk in andlook around suspiciously when I notice the cap and jacket on the armchair in front of my desk.

What the…?

I check the food.

It's my favorite food: avocado toast, hard-boiled eggs, pancakes with fruit and apple syrup, and coffee.

Is that person still in my office, using the bathroom?

As crazy as it sounds, it's a real possibility. Why else wouldtheircoat and cap be on my chair?

That's unfathomable, though. No delivery person would do that, especially without asking for permission.

I don't know what to do. Go full-on crazy and check the bathroom?

I have no choice.

Mina and my co-workers are still in the other office.

Sucking in a long breath, I pull away from my desk and go straight to the bathroom.

The door is cracked open, and the closer I get, the faster my heart beats.

I stop in front of the door and sniff the air, trying to detect a smell of smoke or aftershave.

And then the door slowly opens as if someone pulls at it, and I hear a voice.

"Get in," he says, and my mouth falls open.

"Jax?" I gasp.

He pushes his hand out, grabs me, and pulls me in before dropping the door shut and locking it.

"Jax?" I murmur, staring at him in disbelief.

A smile clings to his lips while he takes me in without a damn care in the world.

"What are you doing here? Did you deliver my food?"

He tilts his chin down, still studying my outfit.

"Is that person alive?" I darkly joke, my voice serious, though.

"Uh-huh," he says, finally looking at me.

He brings his fingers to my face, and so many things are in my head.

Questions of all kinds.

"Are those his clothes? The things you dropped on the chair outside?"

He nods again while I take in his attire.

He wears fancy pants, a fitted dress shirt, and a tailored jacket.

It's not much different than what he wore on Friday.

It's only that his looks are more subtle.

He doesn't wear cologne or smells like smoke.

"I tipped him," he says, whatever that means.

Tipped him and threatened him?

Possibly.

"Don't worry about him," he says, splaying his fingers over my cheek and looking at me tenderly, making me lean into his touch.

A smile grows on his lips as I grip his wrist and kiss the palm of his hand.

He lowers his mouth to me, and I breathlessly wait for the kiss.

We kiss slowly as if I'm not at work,and thisis not Monday morning in one of Manhattan"s busiest skyscrapers.

We kiss like we're not in the bathroom, and people are not roaming outside.

As if we didn't fuck this past Saturday.

We kiss like two people who are oblivious to everything else.

"What made you come here?" I ask quietly, our eyes connected.

He gives me a smug smile.

"I wanted to see you."

"That's it?"

"Yes… I also wanted to get a sense of how boring your world is,"hesays, and I flashed an amused smile.

"You're charming."

"We both know that," he says with self-deprecating humor.

His gaze glides down, a smile still on his lips.

"How do you feel?" he asks, his hand moving down, his fingers fluttering over my skirt, his fingertips grazing the apex of my thighs. I must be red to my hairline as my cheeks catch on fire.

He tears his other hand away from my face and moves it down my neck and past my collarbones before reaching my chest.

He cups a breast and lowers his mouth to kiss me again. Despite knowing what that means and how impossible it is to accomplish it here, I loop my arms around his neck and press myself into him.

I can't open my legs for him for a gazillion reasons, the most important one being that it hurts like hell.

But lust wouldn't be lust if it weren't irrational and hard to resist.

Noticing how warm I am against his frame, he slides his hands inside my jacket and peels it off my shoulders.

"You don't want to put a crease in it," he says, setting it on the edge of the sink.

He tugs at my bow with great care and undoes italongwith a couple of buttons.

When he lowers his head and runs the tip of his tongue from the swell of my breast to my lips and then slides it into my mouth, I'm already down for whatever else he has in mind.

Facing real constraints, we indulge ourselves, tasting the forbidden pleasure, knowing we can't go all the way.

Everything is delicious when it's forbidden.

I want his mouth on my body and his fingers in my hair. He slides his hands into my hair and pulls my head back, crushing my lips and deepening the kiss.

The heat becomes unbearable, and I undo two more buttons and then two more. It's a delicate fabric, and I can't risk ruining it.

Still kissing me, he slides my blouse off my shoulders, undoes it all the way, untucks it, and places it on the blazer.

My bra falls open under his touch, and a nipple hurts between his teeth when he sucks on my breast.

Extending his arm, he lets my bra drop on the rest of my clothes.

The tension only grows, and I begin to think we won't not reach the gratifying end.

My hands hold earnestly onto his neck while we kiss with abandon.

He runs his fingers down my thighs and lifts me up until my butt is lined with the vanity countertop before he tucks himself between my legs, reaches inside my skirt, rides it up, and pulls at my panties.

"It hurts," I say.

"I'll be gentle," he murmurs against my lips, pushing my panties down and leaving them around an ankle.

He slides my skirt up all the way and pulls my bare butt closer to the edge, opening me to him.

My skirt will be damaged, but that is hardly a problem now.

He takes me in as I prop myself back on my hands, push my chest out, and have my thighs hitched up on his hips.

He brings his hand to my mouth, slides his thumb between my lips, and watches me suck on it while unzipping his pants and pulling his erection out.

I throb, staring at it. Flesh and blood encased in smooth, veiny skin.

My mouth waters, yet he has different plans, running his hand down, smearing my nipples with the wetness of my mouth, and spreading the rest over my clit.

His hard-on twitches when he brings his hand back to my mouth and makes me suck on his fingers again.

I get a taste of my arousal before I watch him slowly move the same fingers up and down his length.

Flashing a smile, he presses the head of his cock against my opening before cupping my butt, pulling me to him, and entering me to the brim.

The pain is still there, but it hurts less as I'm perfectly wet for him.

"How is it?" he asks quietly, watching himself entering me.

"It feels great," I say, shaking while trying to support my body.

He reads my eyes.

"If I had a kernel of scruple, I should hand my resignation," I say.

"Why? Because you have sex in the bathroom with the delivery man?" he says, and we laugh. "You think you're the only power figure soliciting sex?" he continues, and we chuckle again.

"You just described yourself," I point out, and he says nothing, looking down again, a smile on his lips, his thumb rubbing hard against my clit, my folds open.

My arms give in, so I lean back on my elbows.

"That's even better," he says, massaging my clit and plunging into me, the fire only growing.

Sweat forms at the top of my chest, and warm, wet beads slide down between my breasts.

My hips become his hands' home as he grips me hard and rams into me.

The pain is gone.

A swirl of tingles threatens to become a hurricane, and a gasp falls from my lips when he unleashes the power of his thrusts on me.

His speed only increases as he nudges me down, drapes my legs over his arms, and fucks me hard.

I do my best not to moan while he grunts quietly, and we both come, having zero remorse.