Come As You Are

But then a thrill races through me because I don’t know the answer. I bring my mouth to his, brushing our lips together. As he thrusts inside me, he whispers against my face, “I don’t think it’ll take me long either. You feel too good.”

I bring my mouth to his ear. “Fuck me harder. Fuck me so hard I forget where I am.”

His groan sounds like it’s ripped from his throat as he hikes my thigh higher. He grabs my other leg, lifts me, and wraps both around his back. “Hold on tight,” he says, keeping me pinned like that, holding me up as he takes me.

I can’t move like this, and I’m sure the wall is bruising my back where it digs into the wall. I’m equally sure I don’t care as he fills me, pounds me, and delivers me to a place I haven’t been in the longest time.

A deep pull of desire tugs in the center of my belly. It pulses again, then another time.

“So close,” I cry out.

“Yes,” he grunts. He unleashes wild thrusts on me, groaning, “Want to watch you come.”

My eyes are closed, but I swear I can feel him staring at me as a wave of pleasure sweeps over, pulls me under, and overwhelms me.

Is he as turned on as I am? Is he falling apart watching me shatter? I hope so, oh God, I hope so. Because I’m breaking, and it’s intense. I part my lips, I cry out, and then my world spins away as pleasure spills over me, crashing across my skin.

I feel it everywhere. I don’t know if I’m quiet or loud. I don’t know if anyone can hear me, or if no one can.

But I can’t stop saying I’m coming, oh God, I’m coming over and over, because it feels like an endless orgasm. Like never-ending bliss.

With his hands digging into my hips, he slams into me, filling me deep as he trembles all over. When I open my eyes, I catch the tail-end of his orgasm. His face is contorted, his lips twisted and his jaw tight. After one final deep thrust, he tenses, grunts a primal moan of pleasure. Then, he relaxes.

I let my legs fall, my feet touching the floor. I’m wobbly at first. My bones need to shift from a liquid state to a solid one again. He pulls out, grabbing a tissue from the desk, and quickly disposing of the condom in a nearby trash can.

When he returns to me, there’s one more kiss coming my way.

A soft, sweet, after-the-fire kind of kiss.

A kiss that tells me this was rough and hot, but tender too.

A kiss that says he’d like another, and so would I.

“What’s your number?” he asks, and I grin, like a happy commoner, because the duke wants to see me again.

I start to tell him, then stop to ask if he wants to enter it in his cell.

Shaking his head, he dusts his lips to my neck. “I have an amazing memory.”

I shiver from the kiss, then rattle off all but the last three digits for him, when my phone chirps.

And chirps.

Then it hits me.

Bob Galloway.

Fear stabs at me—the worry that I’ll miss a big chance.

I blink, drop to my knees, grab my clutch, and rip it open, hunting for my mobile phone. It’s him.

I slide my thumb over the screen. “I have to take this call,” I whisper to my non-ninja duke.

I grab a bill from the halo on the desk, a five hundred. Waving it, I thrust it at him, mouthing, The last three digits of my number. I need to be alone for this call. I want to talk to a potential editor without looking at the man who fucked me, so I run for the door, clear my throat, and say, “Hello, Mr. Galloway,” once I reach the hallway.

By the time I’m outside, I realize I left my panties behind.

Flynn

A swath of white shimmers on the floor.

Must be one of the ribbons from her wings. Maybe it fell off, or it was ripped off, or it was manhandled during what was an absolutely unexpected but thoroughly fantastic screw against the wall. And hey, how awesome is it to meet someone who likes hot up-against-the-wall sex as much as I do? It is awesome by a factor of ten to the twenty-seventh power.

Figuring I ought to straighten this library before I leave, I bend to pick up the stray ribbon so I can toss it in the trash can.

As I touch it, a wicked grin spreads on my face. It’s not a piece of her wings. It’s her panties, and I tuck them into my pocket, laughing quietly. This is better than finding a glass slipper. Maybe she’s my dirty Cinderella. But then I’m no prince, unless Prince Charming ravaged the heroine in a library.

Hell, maybe that’s why the guy is so damn popular. Maybe that’s why men have to live up to Prince Charming—because he was secretly a dirty bastard.

I stand, patting my pocket where I’ve safely stowed the panties, as well as her number, since it’s now stored in my phone.

I head to the door when out of the corner of my eye I spot something else she forgot to grab in her mad dash. On the desk is her homemade halo with its headband, wire, and all the dollar bills wrapped around it.

I run a finger over the band, wondering if she needs this. Maybe this is her favorite headband and she’ll be glad to have that back along with the panties. Guess this gives me a double excuse to see her again.

I grab it and run a hand through my hair, hoping I don’t entirely look like I just had the best sex of my life.

Wait. Where the hell did that thought come from? Not the best sex part. Clearly, I’m well aware of how I’d rate that encounter on the How’m I Doing scale—at the pinnacle.

But the idea that I don’t want anyone to know. That’s an interesting thought, and I ruminate for a moment, roll it around in my brain until I realize where it started.

From something I saw in her expression.

Some flash of vulnerability in her eyes, even behind the mask.

I don’t know who she is, and I want to protect her. To keep her secrets. Maybe even to keep her a secret.

I straighten my shirt, tuck the halo under my arm, and head out of the library. I check my phone. It’s eleven thirty. Listening briefly to the thumping music from the ballroom, I decide my team is having a blast still, and there’s no need to return to the party. I saw everyone from Haven, chatted with my employees all night long, and endured all their mockery over my that’s-so-lame costume. Like a good leader, I bore the brunt of the outfit ridicule and gave them a chance to have some fun before we roll up our sleeves and dive into the heavy lifting of market rollout this week.

Plus, if I head home now, that means I can curl up with the newest quantum physics book I downloaded and practice my Japanese, since I have business meetings in Tokyo next month. Last time I flew across the Pacific, I was able to handle the majority of my meetings in the native language of my business partners. This time, my goal is to handle all of them.

Why?

Because. That’s why.

As I stroll down the hall, I yank my mask over my head, since I don’t need to wear it anymore, and when I turn the corner, I nearly bump into a frog.

When I first met Kermit at a conference last year, he asked me to introduce him to my VCs. Laughing, I told him I hadn’t been venture funded in five years. I was past venture funding. My brother and I had already sold our firm, and some of the money from that went to fund Haven. I’m one of the fortunate ones who are self-funded now.

Kermit didn’t care for my answer. “But you know everyone, and everyone takes your calls. And this isn’t even for me. It’s for the tech my network runs on. It’s going to blow up.”

He was a bold little bastard. Persistent. Dogged. Determined. I suppose that’s part of why he played a big role in securing his network’s money in the end. Tenacity—he has it in spades.