He took a step closer and then another, and my back bumped into the door. “I want you, Fiona.” He lifted a hand, his fingertips landing along the edge of my jaw. His feather-light touch was like a blaze of fire on my skin as he stroked across the surface.

  I could hardly breathe. My belly felt tingly, almost ticklish. My need for him was a sweet, sharp pleasure that set my nerve endings alight. “I want you too,” I rasped.

  A second later, he dipped his head, dropping a kiss on one corner of my mouth and then the other. I arched into him, letting out a needy little sigh and biting my lip when he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses on the side of my neck.

  I shifted on my feet. Oh. My. God. I had never known desire like this before. Giving in to it sent oxygen rushing into the fire, fanning the flames wildly. All I wanted was to give myself over to it, to the rush of need and passion underlaid with an intense emotion. At this moment, I couldn’t grasp the depth and power of the emotion. It was a first draft, the edges rough, and the full story not formed. Yet the power of it shimmered from the first word.

  “Blake,” I rasped, his name a plea.

  “Yes, Fi?” He lifted his head, his eyes studying mine as I stood there, relieved to have a door behind me.

  My knees were liquid, and I could feel the heartbeat of my desire echoing through every cell. “I need you.”

  My honesty shocked me. But I couldn’t hide from him, and I didn’t want to. Maybe later I would regret it. In fact, I was certain I would. But right now, caught in the very flame of this moment, I couldn’t. My need was raw, elemental, the growl of a hungry animal in the snarl of a fight.

  “I know.” His eyes were dark as he held my gaze.

  A blazing second passed before his mouth was on mine, and he pressed against me. I felt the hard length of his arousal against my low belly. Our kiss exploded—lips, teeth, and tongues tangling, fighting to get enough, nearly devouring each other.

  By the time we broke apart, I gasped for air while he tugged at the buttons on my blouse, murmuring something before swearing, “Fuck me.”

  I felt cool air strike my skin as my blouse fell open. My nipples were already tight and achy. He wasted no time, undoing the clasp to my bra and letting out a growl before his mouth closed over a nipple. The sharp pleasure arrowed down to my throbbing pussy. I clenched, pressing my thighs together, trying to contain my need.

  Blake lifted his head, reaching his hand down and yanking my skirt up. His eyes were locked on mine as he reached between my thighs, his palm cupping my mound. I felt the press of his fingers against the wet silk. I bit my lip, whimpering when he shoved my panties out of the way and delved into my swollen, slippery-wet folds.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” he whispered.

  All I could do was pant in reply. He stepped back abruptly, and I cried out, bereft at the absence of his touch. We stared at each other. I nearly came on the spot when he reached down and dragged his palm over his cock, still buttoned up behind his jeans.

  “I need to be inside you when you come,” he said flatly.

  I pushed away from the door on unsteady legs and stopped in front of him. “Please,” I whispered, unashamed and so needy, so very needy.

  He spun me around. Seconds later, I stood in front of his desk, bending over as he shoved my skirt up. I felt his touch curving over my bottom before he yanked my panties down. I stepped out of them, kicking them free.

  He pushed my open blouse up my back, dropping kisses on my skin. It felt like hot drops of lava, each kiss sending heat spiraling higher and higher, hotter and hotter inside.

  I heard him murmur something, followed by the distinct sound of a condom wrapper opening. I glanced over my shoulder to see him swiftly rolling a condom on. When he caught my eyes, he straightened, lifting me, turning me, and sliding my hips on his desk.

  “I need to see you,” he rasped.

  My skirt stretched tight around my thighs. As he pushed my knees apart, it rode up farther. I watched as his eyes dropped down. I should have felt some sense of reserve, but there was none.

  His gaze lifted to mine as he dipped his fingers between my thighs and leaned down, bringing his mouth to my sex.

  I was so close to release, my clit a swollen, needy bud. He licked deeply, his fingers delving inside just before he sucked lightly on my clit. I cried out sharply, my hips bucking against his mouth as my orgasm slammed into me.

  Before I could even recover, he straightened, positioning his cock at my entrance and sliding in while I was still shuddering from my climax. He brought his mouth to mine, and I tasted the tang of my arousal as he kissed me.

  He filled me completely and held still before lifting his mouth from mine. “Just one more. For me.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Blake

  Fiona stared at me—her eyes dark, her lips kiss swollen, and her pussy clenching around my cock. Her tongue slid across her bottom lip when she nodded. “Okay,” she whispered.

  I was barely in control, clinging to the thinnest thread. I held still, savoring the feel of her tight and slick channel around me. After a beat, I drew back slowly, watching her as I sank inside and filled her again. I reached for her hips, pulling her closer to the edge of the desk. She curled her legs around my hips as I began to rock into her, fucking her slow and deep.

  I had no idea how long it lasted. At this moment, I was utterly in thrall to this woman. Need sizzled through me with every thrust. Her little gasps and moans and whimpers drove me mad. My balls tightened, and I knew I was close.

  I brought one hand between us to lightly circle my fingers over her plump clit. She cried out, going taut and shuddering as she came again.

  I finally let go, my release drawing tight before snapping loose sharply when I thrust one final time. She curled into me, tucking her head in the curve of my neck as I slid one arm around her and held her close.

  As I stood there holding Fiona, my pulse began to slow in the aftermath of my crashing release. I’d known I wanted Fiona. My desire for her was fierce, burning hotter and hotter as the days had passed since our first kiss.

  Yet that awareness left me unprepared for the intimacy I felt with her. There was a closeness, a comfort I’d never experienced before. I’d always enjoyed sex, but it genuinely felt casual with my emotions at a distance.

  As I felt the soft give of her skin where my hand still rested on her hip and the beat of her heart against my chest, I wanted to lift her into my arms and take her home with me. Not because I wanted more sex—although that was probably a foregone conclusion—but because I wanted to fall asleep with her beside me.

  She lifted her head, tipping it back. Her gaze was almost level with mine as she sat on my desk. We stared at each other, and she looked as stunned as I felt. Her swallowing was audible as her eyes searched mine, uncertainty swirling there.

  She took a quick breath, and I felt the gust of it on my skin when she released it. “Well,” she finally said.

  My lips tugged into a slight smile. “I should go,” she added.

  “Of course.”

  We disentangled ourselves, and moments later, Fiona looked tidy and put together. The only giveaway to the intensity of our encounter was the slight pink tinge on her cheeks.

  I walked to my office door, reaching for the handle when her voice stopped me. “I don’t think you should walk out with me.”

  I turned back. “Okay,” I said reluctantly. I wanted every second I could have with her, even just walking by her side in the hallway.

  Her hand curled more tightly around the strap of her purse where it hung over her shoulder. “I know David’s my boss, but your family owns this place. It would be —” She bit her lip, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Not great if people knew what just happened.”

  I knew everything she said was logical. Of course, it was. But I didn’t want this to be the end of the line for us. “What if I want to see you again?”

  Her gaze held mine, and I could practically see the wheels turning in her brain. “You see me almost every day I’m working,” she pointed out, neatly attempting to sidestep my question.

  “You know that’s not what I mean, Fiona.”

  The tinge on her cheeks deepened. “I know,” she said, her tone almost resigned.

  I turned to face her more fully, taking a few steps until I stood right in front of her. Lifting a hand, I smoothed back a stray lock of hair that had fallen from her tidy bun. “What if I promised to keep it quiet? No one has to know.”

  She sucked in a breath as she stared at me, shifting on her feet. “Blake —”

  Leaning down, I pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss on the side of her neck, gratified when she arched into me. When I lifted my head, I asked, “Do you really want this to be it?”

  “No,” she whispered.

  “Tell me your number.” Stepping back, I slid my phone out of my pocket.

  She recited her number, and I quickly tapped it into my phone before sending her a text.

  “That’s mine.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Fiona

  Blake: Your car is ready.

  I stared down at Blake’s text. It was just a text. And still, butterflies spun in my belly and heat rolled through me. I smiled at those four words.

  Before I had a chance to reply, his next text came in.

  Blake: I’m going to drop it off in the parking lot at your apartment.

  My lips twisted with a sigh. I was super worried about every interaction with Blake. Even though I knew I wasn’t the only person in this place he did favors for. Not by a long shot. Just the other day, I overheard him and David talking about arranging the plowing for David’s house for next winter. Apparently, Blake liked to plow snow.

  Me: Ok. I really appreciate your help. If you need a favor in return, just let me know.

  I slipped my phone into my purse and hurried from the break area out into the kitchen. It was the start of my shift for one of our busiest nights of the week.

  The kitchen was a whirlwind of activity that evening, and I thrived on it. It helped that I absolutely loved cooking, but I craved anything to keep me distracted. Between the tornado of emotions spinning inside me around Blake, what had happened the other night, and the way that message from the same evening had burrowed into my worries, I needed something to keep my mind occupied.

  “Fiona!” Tommy called over.

  I glanced up from where I drizzled a sauce over some rice. “Yeah?”

  “That halibut special you came up with this week?” He waggled his brows dramatically. “Fucking amazing. People love it. We’ve run out of halibut every single night.”

  “An eighty-six is your highest compliment,” Phil chimed in.

  I smiled, a sense of pride blooming in my chest. “It is. Thank you.”

  I didn’t realize David had walked in until he stopped beside me. “You’re doing great.”

  That was high praise from David, so I simply smiled. He cuffed me lightly on the shoulder as he passed by. By the time the evening was winding down, I was tired.

  Tommy handled closing this evening, so I headed to the break room when the last order came through. After removing my hairnet and splashing water on my face, I slipped out of the bathroom. When I saw Blake over at the table in the corner, chatting with Phil, I schooled my expression to something bland.

  I walked quickly over to the lockers, fetching my purse and coat. When I turned around, Phil was saying goodbye to Blake as he walked out the back door. Phil’s eyes caught mine. “See you tomorrow,” he called over.

  “Thanks for everything,” I called in return.

  That left me alone in the break room with Blake. I was acutely aware that at any second someone else might pass through. Even though I was leaving for the night, servers remained in the restaurant, and Tommy was finishing up orders from the bar.

  My eyes collided with Blake’s. We had maybe fifteen feet between us. The break room was spacious, but the room suddenly felt small. I willed the heat rising swiftly to cool down and prayed my cheeks didn’t turn red. It was all pointless because I could feel the blush rising to the surface.

  It felt as if cinders were falling all around us, scattering sparks through the air. I wanted to kiss Blake. I wanted to close the distance between us and let my hand fall to his chest so I could feel the beat of his heart, reminding me he was there, reminding me of that intense, elemental connection I felt with him. The force of it was so powerful I felt tugged in opposite directions—caught between the urge to let myself tumble into it, to be enthralled by it because it felt so very good, and the urge to scurry away, running as far and as fast as I could. Because I knew my heart was in danger.

  “I dropped your car off like I said. It’s in the parking lot behind your apartment.” As if he could read my mind because he probably could—that was how crazy I felt around him—he added, “It’s in parking spot two. That’s your apartment, right?”

  “How did you know?”

  “Fireweed Property Management is part of Fireweed Industries,” he said matter-of-factly.

  I let out a startled laugh. “Of course, it is.”

  Blake shrugged lightly. “I don’t handle it, but I worked there in high school, helping with maintenance. So I’m familiar with most of the properties.”

  I swallowed and nodded, my hand tightening around the strap of my purse as we stood there. One of the servers came walking in. She glanced over. “Have a good night, Fiona. That halibut dish was delish,” she said as she walked past. She tossed a quick smile in Blake’s direction before slipping into the bathroom.

  “I should go,” I said.

  The table in the corner was by the employee entrance. Blake reached for the door, holding it open for me as I walked over. The heat of his presence was like a blaze on my skin as I walked by.

  “Good night, Fiona.”

  I couldn’t even trust myself to speak, so I simply nodded. My eyes snagged his once more before I tore them away and walked out into the darkness. The evening air was cool on my cheeks. I took several deep breaths and began walking quickly through the parking area before turning toward the street.

  I loved my job. I loved that I could walk home and feel safe.

  I need to be careful and not screw this up.

  I told myself I could resist Blake.

  Lia was asleep when I got home, and my mom was dozing on the couch. I looked around our small apartment, my lips curling in a smile. Maybe it wasn’t much, but I loved it. We had a cozy living room and kitchen and three whole bedrooms. They may be small bedrooms, but they were bedrooms. Until we moved here, I had shared my bedroom with my daughter. After I broke up with Johnny, I stayed with my parents. Then my dad passed, and it was just my mom, Lia, and me.

  Lia barely woke up when I kissed her good night. I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and climbed into my own bed.

  I had started to read when my phone vibrated on the small table beside my bed. I eyed it suspiciously. No one texted me this late, so curiosity got the best of me, and I reached for it. The moment my eyes saw Blake’s name flash on the screen, my belly flipped. Heat flared on my cheeks, and I put the phone down quickly.

  I tried to read my book, but my eyes kept sliding to my phone.

  Laughing softly, I reached for it again after reading the same paragraph in my book three times.

  Blake: I want to see you again.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Blake

  I was at home, sitting at my kitchen table, once again staring out into the darkness. The lights of the harbor shimmered on the water. The rising moon cast the mountains to the side of my view with a pearly glow.

  My phone vibrated on the table, and my eyes whipped down to the screen.

  Fiona: Blake…

  I wasn’t going to leave it at that. I couldn’t.

  I knew it wasn’t smart. I knew that everything we did had to be a secret. But I wanted Fiona. Oh sure, sex was tangled up in it, but that wasn’t all. For now, though, I had to shift, adjusting my jeans over the swell of my arousal. Just thinking about her got me aroused.

  Lifting my phone, I tapped out another text.

  Me: Do you mind when I call you Fi?

  I didn’t even look out the windows this time, staring at the screen. The seconds ticked by before the gray dots appeared, indicating she was replying.

  Fiona: Of course not. It’s just a nickname. There’s nothing special about it. Other people use it.

  My heart was kicking along. I thought about how she said there was nothing special. I thought about overhearing Tommy call her that the other day. I wasn’t a jealous guy. There wasn’t any vibe whatsoever between Fiona and any of the guys who worked in the kitchen. Yet I was jealous they were friendly with her. It was beyond irrational, and I damn well knew it.

  Me: Tell me when I can see you again.

  Fiona: I’m sure you’ll see me at work tomorrow.

  I practically growled as I tapped out my response.

  Me: That’s not what I mean.

  Fiona: I don’t know how to do this.

  Me: Tell me your next night off.

  Fiona: The night after tomorrow.

  Me: Can I pick you up?

  Fiona: OMG. No!

  My lips curled in a smile.

  Me: Understood. I’d like to make you dinner. I know you’re a mom, though, so maybe getting away for a night isn’t an option.

  Fiona: If I ask, my mom would be thrilled to know I was having dinner with friends.

  Me: Okay then. 6 o’clock?

  Fiona: Yes. For the record, I’m not so sure about this.

  Me: For the record, I understand. I know we’re good together. And I know you know that.

  Fiona: Maybe.

  Me: I want you. Right, this second. But I’ll wait. I just have one question.

  Fiona: What’s that?

  Me: Are you wet?

  Fiona: Blake!

  Me: That’s not an answer.

  Fiona: Good night, Blake.