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Fall Into You (Morally Gray, #2)(59)

Author:J.T. Geissinger

When I don’t respond because I’m struggling with how much I want to see her versus what I know is right, she whispers, “Please?”

Please. Never has a single word had such an effect on my body.

I close my eyes and attempt to banish the image of her begging me to let her come as I drive into her cunt from behind. Bent over my desk, her skirt pushed up over her perfect ass, my hard dick dripping with her— “Yes,” I say too loudly. “Now. Come up now. Immediately.”

I slam the phone down and exhale a hard breath.

Fucking hell. This has disaster written all over it. Next thing I know, I’ll be eighty-five years old, and Shay and I will finally be going on our first date.

I pace until I hear a knock on the door. The moment I open it and I see her face, I know I’ve already lost.

I pull her inside by her wrist, close and lock the door, take her in my arms, and kiss her.

Shay

The kiss catches me completely off guard.

Expecting to be met with some cold, professional version of Cole who’d tell me again that there could be nothing between us, I steeled myself on the elevator ride up. I was ready with my arguments. I had all my speeches prepared. We had to work something out so we could be together, and that was it.

Then he opened the door and fell on me like a starving man.

His mouth is hot and demanding. His tongue delves deep. He holds me against his body with his arms wound tightly around my back and drinks from my mouth until I’m dizzy.

Then he sets me firmly away from him and steps back, shaking his head.

“We can’t do this, Shay.”

Unsteady and breathing hard, I take a moment to gather my wits and try to understand what he’s saying. “You mean here? We can’t do this in your office?”

“No. I mean at all.”

Hurt by his words and the hardness in his voice, I turn and walk away. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. And before you open your mouth again, let me tell you something…”

I stop a few feet away from his desk and stare at the copy of Love in the Time of Cholera sitting on the blotter. When I turn to look at him, he sighs and drags a hand through his hair.

“I thought you didn’t like romance novels.”

“I don’t.”

“Then why is that book on your desk?”

“It’s a long story. How are you?”

I take a moment to inspect his expression. It’s intense. Worried. Yearning. Ambivalent. He stands with his back ramrod straight and his head slightly lowered, arms at his sides, legs spread apart, hands flexed. He looks like he’s fighting himself not to break into a run, grab me, and kiss me again.

Folding my arms over my chest, I stare at him. “I’m well. Thank you for asking. You?”

“Fine. Thanks.”

His intense gaze rakes up and down my body. He licks his lips and shifts his weight from foot to foot.

“Cole, if you seriously think you can act like there are no feelings between us, and we’re just going to go about our lives as if nothing ever happened, you’re not as smart as I thought you were.”

“I never said there were no feelings. I said we can’t do anything about them.”

I look at him in his beautiful navy-blue suit with his gorgeous face and his strong body, and wonder how such a perfect specimen of a man could be this absurd.

“So you’re planning on spending the rest of your life alone, is that it?”

“Yes.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Also yes. You look beautiful today. I love that color on you.”

“Color? I’m wearing black.”

“It’s perfect. You’re so perfect, I could go blind.”

I can’t help it. Despite my hurt and confusion, I smile. “You know, for someone who’s trying to convince me we can’t have a relationship, you’re doing a terrible job.”

“I don’t want you to think it’s because I don’t want you. I want you like I’ve never wanted anything. But I’m not good for you, Shay. I’m not…good.”

My heart is a sucker for this man. He stares at me with such seriousness on his face and in his eyes and voice, trying to tell me why we can’t be together, but I can barely hear him over the pounding of my pulse. It’s a roar of kiss me kiss me kiss me in my ears, deafening me.

I sit on the edge of his desk and close my eyes, trying to block it out.

A moment later, he strokes a hand over my hair.

“Are you really okay?”

His voice is soft, close to my ear. I nod but don’t open my eyes because I want him to keep touching me.

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