Chapter 127 (1/2)

“I . . . Okay,” he says.

I laugh and caress his cheek. I love catching him off guard. “What is he, when I have you?”

His eyes flutter and he finally smiles. I am relieved that I am learning how to disengage the bomb that is Hardin. “I love you,” he says and presses his lips to mine. “I am sorry for blowing up like that.”

“I accept your apology; now let me show you my office!” I say in a cheery voice.

“I don’t deserve you,” he says quietly, too quietly. I choose to ignore it and keep my uplifting attitude.

“So what do you think?” I beam.

He chuckles and listens intently as I show him every detail, every book on the shelf and the empty picture frame on my desk.

“I was thinking I want to put a picture of us here,” I tell him.

We have never taken any pictures together, and the thought hadn’t even crossed my mind until I placed the empty frame there. Hardin doesn’t seem like the type who would smile for a camera, even on a cell phone.

“Oh. I don’t really do pictures,” he says, confirming my thoughts.

But when he sees I’m a little embarrassed by being shut down, he strains to say, “I mean . . . I guess I could take one. Just one, though.”

“Let’s worry about that later.” I smile and he seems relieved.

“Now can we move on to how sexy you look in that dress. It’s been driving me crazy since I got here.” His voice is a full octave deeper and he takes a step toward me. My body heats immediately; his words never cease to unravel me.

“You’re lucky I didn’t open my eyes this morning. If I had . . .” He traces his fingertips along the neckline of my dress. “I wouldn’t have let you leave.”

He brings his other hand to the hem of my dress and caresses my thigh.

“Hardin . . .” I warn. My voice betrays me and comes out as more of a moan.

“What, babe . . . you don’t want me to do this?” He lifts me up and sits me on the edge of my desk.

“It’s . . .” My thoughts are clouded by his lips against my neck. I dig my fingers into his hair and he nips at my skin. “We can’t . . . someone could come in . . . or something.” The words are jumbled and don’t make much sense. He puts his hands on my thighs and opens them farther.

“There is a lock on the door for a reason . . . I really want to take you right here, on this desk. Or maybe against the window.” His mouth travels lower on my chest. The idea of what he is proposing sends electricity through my body. His fingers brush over the lace on my panties and he sucks a breath through his teeth.

“You’re killing me,” he groans as he looks between my legs to see the white lace set I bought yesterday. I can’t believe I am letting this happen, on a desk in my new office on the second day of my internship. The idea thrills me as much as it terrifies me.