The corners of his mouth quirked a bit as he put his hand back on my arm. "You're shaking." He ran a hand through his hair, his dark blue eyes searching mine.
Her face flashed across my mind, and I fought the tears away. His eyes on me, his scent, his five o'clock shadow-all of it was comforting, which made the tears an even greater possibility. Funny how when you have someone to cry on, the tears are more willing to a show up and make a scene.
"Shit. Come here." His words were gruff, but he pulled me into his arms with a gentleness that shocked me more than if he'd hit me.
I rested my cheek against his chest, his heartbeat strong and steady beneath his dress shirt. His tie was gone, and his top buttons were open. I stood there in his arms, letting him hold me as tears rolled down my face. I didn't sob, no dramatics. I just cried silent tears for the woman in the photo.
Mr. Granade rubbed a hand down my back as my breath hitched.
"It's okay. I know, Caroline. It's okay." He spoke into my hair since, without my shoes, I was a foot shorter than him.
"It's just so horrible, is all." As if that explained me turning into a blubbering mess.
"I know. I shouldn't have let you look through those without me here. It's late. You're tired. I just didn't think. That was my mistake." The low rumble of his voice against my ear was soothing, just like his hand at my back.
I would definitely give myself a stern talking-to later about my crybaby antics. But for now, I just wanted to stay in his arms. After a few more moments, I got myself under control and wiped my eyes. He stepped back, though he kept his hands on my arms.
"Better?"
"Yes, better." Thank God for waterproof mascara or I would have ruined his shirt. "Thank you."
I looked at him and resolved to suck it up. I put my shoulders back just a little and lifted my chin. My simple movements caused something to change as he watched me, his lids lowering the slightest bit. The air was different, charged somehow. The concern in his face shifted until his wolfish gaze was back. My breath caught in my throat, but not because of fear. It was pure desire that roared to life inside me, heating my skin. I bit my bottom lip. His gaze followed the movement and then his mouth was on mine.
I closed my eyes, unable to process what was happening. His hands were at my back clutching me to him as his lips owned mine. I moaned into his mouth and raised on my tiptoes to get even closer. He tasted like whisky and mint. He tilted his head to the side and slanted over me, his tongue licking me and seeking entrance. I gave it to him, opening and letting him plunder my mouth, my tongue stroking his.
My breath left my body and everything in me was focused on the connection between us. My nerve endings were exploding, chill bumps radiating down my arms. He pulled me closer and lifted me so I was sitting on the desk. I wrapped my arms around him as he fisted my hair and pulled my head back. He wedged his hips between my legs, my skirt stretching to its limit as I spread for him. He was possessing me, his body mastering mine. I'd wanted this, wanted him, but it was only then I realized it was more than just a want. I was starved for him.
He ran his hand down my back to my ass and pulled me toward him. My skirt rode up my thighs as my legs opened wider. I was perched on the edge of the desk, his hard length pushing up against my sweet spot as he groaned. I was already so hot, so wet for him that I was certain he could feel it through his slacks.
He gripped my hair tighter and moved down to my neck, his five o'clock shadow sending chills through me as he fastened his lips to my throat. I couldn't stop the hooker moan that rose from me. All I could think of was him, his lips, his cock between my legs. There was nothing else. . . until he palmed my breast through my blouse.
My hips bucked against him as he squeezed me hard, almost to the point of pain, before easing off and brushing his thumb over my stiff nipple.
"Fuck," he said against my neck and ground his cock into me.
The pressure on my clit sent little explosions of pleasure detonating through me. He moved down to my breasts and yanked my hair harder, forcing me to arch into him. He fastened on my nipple through my shirt, sucking the hard bud into his mouth as he squeezed my ass with his other hand.
When he clenched my nipple between his teeth, I gripped the edge of my desk so hard I thought I might crack a nail. I wouldn't have cared. I was at his mercy, and there was nowhere else I wanted to be.
"I have to stop." His voice was a rasp, sex in every note. Instead of following through with his words, he ran a hand up my thigh, pushing my skirt up onto my hips.