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What if Jed does come back to me?

What if I can get past the hurt he has caused, only to lose him because I slept with another man?

Katie sighs, eying the food line. “This really sucks.”

“It does.” My work phone beeps with an incoming message. It takes everything in me to not dive for it in my pocket, knowing it’s Henry.

She heard it and now glares at my pocket through narrow eyes. “I’ll let you get your message from the devil. I’m going to get dinner.”

She heads for the line and I pull my phone out.

How are you?

Before I can chicken out, I type:

I’m confused.

I want to rescind the text as soon as it’s gone. He’s at Lux now. Even though he asked, I’m sure the last thing he wants to get is an emotional “confused” text. What if it makes him regret what happened?

I sit there, biting my thumbnail. Trying not to wait for a response.

Ten long minutes later, as Katie’s heading back with her tray, the three telltale dots appear, showing me that he’s typing. My heart flutters with a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

I’ll clear up things in the morning. See you at seven.

Always so cryptic. I set my phone on vibrate and stick it into my pocket, restraining myself from messaging back because what the hell does that mean?

Is every day here going to leave me reeling?

~ ~ ~ ~

I step through the service entry door to the sound of Henry’s angry voice. “I don’t care what their focus groups have told them. This is not what my family’s business stands for!”

He leans back in his chair, rolling a pen between his fingers as he listens to the man give reasons for the strategy—demographics, the future, a successful Sandals campaign—over the speaker phone, the morning sun streaming in through the window, highlighting the streaks of golden brown in his hair.

Henry’s face is stony, his jaw taut. And yet he’s still oh so beautiful, dressed in a simple charcoal suit, white shirt and silver tie that coordinates well. “I don’t give a fuck what worked for Sandals. This is Wolf! We’re not a bunch of copycats and we’re not going ahead with this campaign, Blake.” That’s his six thirty call with Wolf’s vice president of marketing. At least he’s on schedule today. “Tell them to scrap it and start over and if they can’t do that, we’ll find an agency who can. Got it?” Without even acknowledging me with a glance, he gestures me over with that infamous two-fingered waggle.

I approach, unsure of how this morning is going to go. I’m guessing it’s not a good idea to bring up last night until I’ve tested the waters.

Blake grumbles an unhappy, “Yeah.”

“I’d like to see a new concept in a week for approval, since I can’t rely on my VP to get it right.” Henry slams his finger on the orange button to hang up. The finger that was deep inside me last night, bringing me to a quivering mess in mere minutes. I squeeze my thighs together with the memory.

“Morning,” I offer softly.

Finally, Henry turns to me, stress and anger painted across his face. “I have a meeting right now?”

“Yes. A conference call with Wolf Shanghai.”

He punches a couple of keys on his laptop and sends a meeting cancellation through Outlook.

Spinning his chair to face me, his legs splayed on either side of my body, he reaches beneath my skirt, his hands running up my outer thighs. His touch makes me wet almost instantly, the dull, needy throb between my legs appearing out of thin air as if it’s been simmering there for days without relief.

“Don’t wear these anymore,” he mutters, grabbing the top of my nylons and unceremoniously tugging at them until they slip to my feet. He reaches back up to grab the sides of my panties and pulls them all the way down my legs. “Or these.” I let out a small yelp as he grabs me by the hips and hoists me onto the smooth wood as if I weigh nothing at all. Peeling my shoes, nylons, and panties off completely, he demands, “lie back.” The soft, sensual Henry from yesterday afternoon is absent.

I’m not sure what’s going to happen, but I stretch out across the hard wood surface. It’s not exactly comfortable. The sun is streaming down over me, forcing me to close my eyes and shield my face with my arm. It’s warm, at least.

Henry pushes my skirt up until it’s pooling at my waist and I’m bare. With hands gripping the backs of my thighs, he pushes my legs up and apart.

“What are you doing?” I ask with a shaky voice, acutely aware that I’m exposed in broad daylight and Henry is at eye level with the space between my legs.

“You said you were confused.”

I gasp at the first swipe of his tongue along my cleft, my legs closing of their own accord.

“No,” he growls, his firm hands denying me the moment of modesty, pushing them even farther apart, until the sides of my knees are grazing the desk’s cool surface and my pelvis is completely open to him.

“People will see!” I hiss, and yet I feel myself growing wetter with excitement.

His low chuckle vibrates against my sensitive pink flesh, only amplifying his tongue’s intoxicating strokes. “Don’t worry. No one’s going to see.”

His tongue dives deep inside me and swirls, eliciting a moan from deep within my chest.

“I was wrong,” he whispers, his breath skating across my most private spot. “Your pussy tastes even sweeter than your mouth.” He licks me again, this time flattening his tongue against me.

I’ve never had anyone speak to me like Henry does. It makes me uncomfortable and yet I crave hearing him say those words. I’m arousing him, and that makes me more aroused, more confident, more comfortable with what he’s doing to me.

I try to relax. With Henry Wolf’s face between my legs at 7:00 a.m.

It feels a thousand times better than I ever imagined it would.

His tongue leaves my core to give my clit some attention, twirling around it like Katie did for Rachel that night before he clamps down to suck and toy with it mercilessly until I whimper.

“Are you sore?”

“No,” I lie, reaching down to weave my fingers through his mop of waves. I am sore, but I forgot the discomfort the second I stepped into the cabin, longing for more of this.

He releases one of my thighs, but I no longer feel the urge to close my legs. I gasp as his finger slides into me, followed by a second.

“I’ve never felt a pussy this tight before.” He pushes a third finger in slowly and stills his hand, waiting for my body to adjust.

“Is that a problem?” I moan softly as his fingers find that same magical spot and he puts pressure on it again. I can’t help bucking into him, wanting to get closer, his tongue working my clit harder.

“No. It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

I smile and close my eyes with his words, my inhibitions quickly melting away. I no longer care that I’m half naked on Henry’s desk or that his face is in my crotch. All I want is to revel in the feel of his tongue against me, knowing that he enjoys it, and that it will end with a mind-blowing release from this pressure lower in my belly.

Henry slides his fingers out and reaches around to grip my thighs again, making my skin slick as he slides my body toward the edge of the desk and seals his mouth over my clit, sucking with punishing pressure.

“Oh!” I cry out, curling my fist through his hair as that tingle builds deep inside me, rolling my hips upwards, on the brink of another monstrous orgasm. I can’t get his mouth and tongue close enough. I grab the back of his head and pull him to me as I grind my hips against his face shamelessly.