I’m on my toes now, my fingers digging into his shoulder, pulling myself up to get closer to him.
“Violet,” he says, his voice bottoming out. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not listening to a word I’ve just said?”
“Do you ever shut up?”
The grin is back, lopsided. I realize his other hand is on the small of my back, my body pressed against his.
“Only when my mouth is otherwise occupied,” he says. “And since there’s no way you’re going to kiss me right now, I guess I’ll just keep —”
I kiss him. It’s the wrong thing to do for about a thousand reasons, but it feels like walking out of the shade and into the sunlight, that warm full-body bliss.
He kisses me back, hard. Our bodies crush together, his hand on my back, his mouth opening, the kiss deepening.
“Liar,” I whisper, pulling back.
He grabs my hips and spins me, walks me backward, eyes blazing, teasing smile on his face.
“You can’t say I don’t know you,” he says.
My butt hits the conference table and he kisses me again, boosting me up onto it. I’ve got his shirt in one fist and I draw him in, closer, his body between my knees.
His tongue’s in my mouth. My other hand is in his hair, fingers woven through the unruly strands, his body firm against mine as his fingers knead my spine, like he’s trying to draw me in even closer.
God, bad ideas feel so good. I let his shirt go and run my hand over his torso, the muscles flexing under his shirt as I do. Heat pools inside me, dangerous and overwhelming.
He nips at my bottom lip, and my eyelids flutter open.
“You’re right,” he murmurs. “This is a terrible idea.”
We kiss again, mouths open. He slides one hand under my shirt, his hand warm on my back.
“Awful,” I agree, gasping for breath.
I wrap my legs around him, pulling him in. I realize with a shock that he’s already hard, his thick length pressing against me and without meaning to, I rock my hips against him.
Eli groans. It’s quiet, but the noise vibrates through me like a symphony and I pull at him harder. I want more: more of that noise, more of this kiss, more of him.
His hand under my shirt slides up. I squeeze him with my thighs, my nails digging into his back, and he traces the bottom of one underwire with his thumb. My back arches and I gasp. Eli chuckles, taking my bottom lip between his teeth.
“Right,” says a voice outside. “So we’ll move the chairs first, and then when the other two get here we’ll tackle —”
I practically leap off the table, shoving Eli away with both hands and sliding off, landing on one foot. I manage to pivot and land in one of the chairs, where I instantly cross my legs and lace my hands together over my head in the world’s most casual pose.
Eli leans against the table.
“ — The tables, and then we can deal with the centerpieces — oh hey, guys!”
Monica, one of our coworkers, walks past the open door of the conference room and waves at us.
“Hi,” I call back. Eli waves.
“ — So I think can can get that all finished by nine…”
Eli starts laughing.
“What?” I hiss, adjusting my shirt. I’m pretty sure my face is bright red.
“You,” he says, still grinning. “That’s the most suspicious I’ve ever seen a person look.”
I rake my eyes down his body, aftershocks still running through my own. He looks perfectly casual, like we’ve been standing here and talking about oyster sliders or something.
“I told you not to do it,” he says, grinning, his words a slow drawl. “You should listen to me more often.”
See? Infuriating.
I stand, running a hand through my probably-insane hair, and look him straight in the eye. Shivers prickle down my spine.
“Don’t you dare —"
“Fool me once, Loveless,” I say, and walk past him, to the boxes of paper cranes against the far wall. “Don’t you have a job to get to?”
I’m very, very tempted to close the conference room door, lock it, and go back to what we were doing. Insanely tempted. Instead I stand in front of the boxes, staring at a blank wall, my arms folded over my chest.
“I guess,” he says, his footsteps coming closer. “You need help carrying those somewhere?”
I shake my head, still facing the wall. I’m a little afraid that if I look at him I’ll do something crazy, like tear all my clothes off.
“We’ve still gotta string them up,” I say, and pause. Now he’s standing right behind me, and I can feel him there, even though we’re not touching. “Thanks, though. For everything.”
“Any time, Violet,” he says, his low, slow voice sending shivers down my spine. “Just holler.”
Gently, he takes my hair in one hand, moves it to the side. Before I can ask what he’s doing he presses his warm lips to the back of my neck.