She shook her head, her gaze locked on the floor.
“Clearly it’s something. Fess up.” Gesturing for her to go first, he followed her out of the restaurant. Watching her pert ass sway under that pencil skirt was certifiable torture.
He let her maintain her silence until they got to the bus stop. “You’re going to have to communicate with me at some point, Grace. Might as well start now.”
When she finally answered, she just stared down the street as if she was waiting for a glimpse of the bus. “I don’t have to converse with you over anything but the practicum. The sooner you get that through your head, the happier this temporary work assignment will be for both of us.”
Well, that smarted. “Right. There’s a small problem with viewing things in such a limited way, though.”
Still staring down the street, her answer was uninterested. “Which is?”
Uninterested just wouldn’t do. He spun her around and pulled her into his arms in one fluid movement. His mouth found hers before she could voice her protest. He moved with clear intent and without consideration for who might be nearby. It was irrelevant. He wanted to show her what the moment meant to him. It was like some compulsion that drove him to mindlessly go where his heart led. Let the cards fall where they may.
She made an unintelligible sound even as she fisted his jacket and pulled him forward, closer.
Justin delved into her mouth, the urge to earn her capitulation urging him on like he was a thoroughbred in the final stretch of a high-stakes race. He didn’t wait for her invitation. Instead, he simply took pleasure and sought to give twice as much in return.
Running his hands into her hair, he cupped her head, angled it for better access and took what was so crucial to him. Gave her what she wanted. A dark and demanding desire reared its head when Grace responded, pulling his body more firmly against hers.
Yes. This. More. With her, his mind purred. Only her.
Lips and teeth and tongue, he fought to own the moment, to own her. Her breath skated across his cheek on every exhale, scalding him, no doubt branding him. She tasted of chocolate cream pie, presented undiluted temptation, smelled like an invitation to sin.
He slid his hand around her waist and pulled at her shirt, untucking it just enough that he could slip his fingers under the waistband of her skirt. Skin to skin was his undoing. “Grace,” he whispered into her mouth.
“Stop,” she wheezed. “Stop it, Justin.” Pushing at his chest, she stumbled away a couple of steps and dragged a hand across her mouth. Her hair was a riot of loose curls. Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink that told a tale of passion nearly unleashed. Nearly.
Not close enough.
“You said lunch,” she said on a heavy breath. “Lunch.”
All his blood had flooded to his groin, and his brain wasn’t working. “We had lunch.”
“We’re on the clock.”
Reality blew through him like a bomb blast.
“You preach to me about doing the right thing, about how I’m not supposed to impugn your honor because it’s somehow holy territory.” Her chest heaved. The green of her eyes was wild. “Well, you just violated the code of ethics without blinking, and you did it right after you broke your word to me.”