What? I just insulted his dick and he’s complimenting me. I eye him, wary.

He rounds the desk and I turn as he does so and now we’re toe to toe. He’s much taller than I am so I’m forced to look up, or stare at his chest. The button of his shirt is less than a foot from me, and I’m oddly tempted to run my fingers over it, but I keep my hands to myself and tilt my neck back. I take my time though, running my tongue over my lips and taking in his jaw on my way to meeting his eyes. I have a thing for a good jaw line on a man. I could spend hours on a good jaw, starting with a nip to an earlobe and working my way down. His skin fascinates me, the hint of a five-o’clock shadow present, the texture, that jaw-clench thing. Is there a term for that?

By the time my eyes reach his they’re hooded. He wraps the fingers of one hand behind my neck, his thumb under my jaw, and then his lips are on mine. I’m expecting it this time, unlike outside my dorm, but it doesn’t change the current that runs through me with his touch. I move my hands to his chest, inside his jacket, and he’s warm under my palms, my hands sliding greedily over his shirt, desperate to feel the ridges of his chest.

My ass is on his desk and my legs are wrapped around his waist when he tears himself away from me. It takes me a second to catch up, unsure for a moment how I even got onto his desk. He steps back and clears his throat, straightening his jacket, and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen a man do, but I want him to take it off, not straighten it out. He’s adjusting the cuffs of his shirt, then his tie as I come back to reality and realize how out of control that got very quickly. The adjustment of his pants confirms that. And hell, I can already see that despite my earlier teasing, he probably has heard the words, It’s not gonna fit.

I straighten on the desk and he offers me his hand, helping me slide off to my feet.

“I’ll pick you up at seven,” he murmurs, his lips close to my ear, the heat of his breath causing a shiver to run through me.

I nod, because really, I was never not going to agree to this. I didn’t stand a chance.

“I’m not sleeping with you tonight, just so you know.” He brushes a stray strand of hair off my face and tucks it behind my ear.

Excuse me?

“I need you to respect me first,” he continues, his eyes somber.

“You cannot be serious,” I blurt out a moment before he starts to laugh.

He winks at me and pinches my ass, letting me know he’s teasing. Thank fuck. I’m so turned on from that make-out session on his desk. I haven’t had sex in a few months. I wasn’t dating anyone during my ‘make Finn fall in love with me’ campaign this fall, which is probably why I’ve been behaving like such a nut job.

Sandra is outside the office, leaning against the edge of her desk, looking like she’s ready to start biting her nails from nerves when Sawyer opens the door to his office. She straightens, concern crossing her face. “Mr. Camden, they’re quite anxious to wrap up the meeting…” She trails off as the phone on her desk rings. Her eyes dart to the phone and back to Sawyer.

She is way too young to be so wound up.

“Tell them I’m on my way,” he says, not seeming the least bit bothered that people are waiting on him. He rests his hand low on my back and guides me through the door. His hand is large and firm on my back, the heat of his skin pressing through my sweater, and I want to push him back into the office and tell Sandra to hold all his calls. But Sawyer has already murmured, “Tonight,” in my ear and disappeared down the hallway. Damn, can he wear a suit.

“They can’t even finish the meeting without him, huh?” I say to Sandra once she finishes with her phone call. I flash her a grin and roll my eyes in jest.