Emma’s eyes widen, and she steps back, some of the wind leaving her sails. “What? No, he didn’t.”
“Yes, he fucking did.” I’m ready to kill just thinking about it.
Emma opens her mouth, then shuts it as her gaze goes to something behind me. Spinning around, I see that some of the customers who’d been browsing are standing there, watching the fight with the avid curiosity of rubberneckers.
“Excuse us,” Emma says tightly and marches toward me. Grabbing my arm, she tows me toward a door in the back marked “Employees Only.” Pushing it open, she all but drags me into a small, stuffy room filled with boxes and shuts the door behind us.
Then she rounds on me, gray eyes narrowed and hands going to her hips. “I don’t care what Ian’s penis was or wasn’t doing,” she says in a low, furious voice. “He’s my boss’s nephew, and he had no idea I have a boyfriend—”
“Why the fuck not?” I advance on her. “We’re living together.”
“Yes, but it just happened and…” She gulps, backing away as she registers the look on my face. “Marcus, be reasonable. I’ve only met the guy a couple of times and—”
I catch her against the wall, pinning her in place by placing my palms on either side of her head. Dipping my head, I growl, “You just said he’s your boss’s nephew.”
She bravely lifts her chin. “Mr. Smithson doesn’t know about you either. It’s been so busy here we’ve had no time to talk. I was going to tell him next week, when I officially changed my address, but—”
I cut her off with a savage kiss, the jealousy transforming into a searing need to claim her, to brand her in the most primal way possible. Gripping her hair in one fist, I arch her head back, devouring her mouth, and after an initial startled moment, she responds with the same fierce hunger, her arms wrapping tightly around my neck and her tongue dueling with mine.
The heat inside me turns volcanic, all the fury transmuting into blazing lust. Mine. She’s fucking mine. With my free hand, I tear at the button of her jeans, blind to everything but the urge to be inside her, and she reciprocates, her small hands fumbling at my fly as I lift her up to sit on the nearby stack of boxes and tug the jeans and underwear down her legs.
It’s awkward as hell with her ankles locked together and her sneakers in the way, but all my focus is on the tight, slick clasp of her body as I thrust into her, on her smothered gasp against my lips and how her hands spasmodically grip my hair. Our tongues tangle again, the kiss mimicking the unrestrained joining of our bodies. We go at it like animals, oblivious to our surroundings, and it’s only at the last second, as I feel the spasms of her orgasm begin, that a sliver of reason cuts through the fog of lust and I remember to pull out as I come.
Breathing heavily, I watch my seed land on her bare thigh, the thick white liquid decorating her pale skin, and then I meet her gaze. Her eyes are soft and dazed, her pupils still dilated from arousal, but I can see the clarity returning to the gray depths as the awareness of where we are and what we’ve done seeps in.
“Here,” I murmur, pulling a tissue from my jacket pocket before she can panic. “Let me get you cleaned up.” Moving swiftly, I wipe away the visible evidence of our joining, even as I mentally curse myself for yet another slip-up.
By pulling out, I made pregnancy less likely, but not impossible.
“Kitten,” I begin apologetically, but Emma is already shaking her head, her eyes wide and horrified as her hand flies up to press against her mouth.
“I can’t believe we just—oh my God, this is where I work. There are customers outside and…” Her gaze drops to her bare legs, and her face and throat turn pink. “Oh, fuck. Let me down. Right now.”
I step back, and she hops off the boxes, frantically pulling up her jeans and underwear as I stuff the used tissue back into my pocket and zip up my fly. Her deliciously round ass jiggles as she works the tight jeans up her creamy thighs, and though I should be completely spent, my cock attempts a demonstration of renewed interest in my pants.
Now’s not the time to indulge the greedy bastard, though, as my kitten looks more than a little upset. Carefully, I extend a hand toward her. “Emma…”
“Don’t talk,” she hisses, backing away. “Don’t even make a sound. We just… where anyone could hear… Oh God, I can’t even—”
“Shh, it’s okay.” Catching her arms, I pull her against my chest for a soothing hug. “We were only here for a few minutes, and we were pretty quiet.” Or at least I think we were; from what I recall, our mouths were mostly occupied with kissing. Either way, I tell her reassuringly, “You won’t get into any kind of trouble, I promise.”
“You can’t promise that.” Her words are muffled against my chest.
I stroke her back. “Yes, I can. From what I’ve seen of him, this Ian asshole will likely be too embarrassed by his gaffe to complain to his uncle, and if any of the customers say something about the backroom goings-on… Well, I’ll deal with the fallout if it happens. An in-person apology from me, accompanied by a check for a hundred grand or so, should go a long way toward smoothing your boss’s feathers—should any of them get ruffled in the first place.”
Instead of calming her, my explanation brings back her anger. Pulling back, she nails me with a narrow-eyed look. “You think money is a fix for everything?”
“Not everything.” There’s no amount in the world that can transport me back in time so I
