Free Pushing Her Buttons by Sabrina York Page B

the side. Up, down. Harder. Faster.
    We came together like a fountain, showering each other with primal juice. Even after he came, he kept pumping into me again and again as I quailed around him.
    Ah. Sweet relief.
    When it was done, when the frenzy had cooled, he withdrew and smoothed my skirt back over my ass. Then he turned me around and studied me for a long, long while. “Are you still mad?”
    I shrugged. “Mostly not.”
    “I was worried you’d be mad when you found out who I was.”
    Oh. Yeah. “I am mad about that.”
    “A lot or a little?”
    “You lied to me.”
    “Not really. Come here.” He tugged me with him, around the couch so we could sit on it properly. Meaning, me sitting sideways on his lap, not quite naked.
    “Is your name even JR?”
    I rode his shrug. “Technically.”
    “Technically?”
    “Jackson Robert.”
    “Carter.”
    “Yeah. Jackson Robert Carter.”
    I dropped my head onto his chest. “So what am I supposed to call you?” My feelings were all jumbled. I was still too close to that orgasm for any usable logic to percolate into my brain. I sat there in a huddled bundle and let it wash over me. Let him hold me as I quaked.
    “Call me anything you want, Sam.”
    “You’re my boss .” I dragged a hand through my hair. “That complicates things.”
    “Doesn’t have to.”
    “But it does.”
    “Look, Sam, I bought this company for one reason and one reason only. To have an excuse to see you. If you’re in my arms, I couldn’t care less about—what’s the name of your company again?”
    I socked him on the shoulder and laughed. “Don’t sell it. Keep it. But don’t fire anyone. They’re all worried about downsizing.”
    “They should be. There’s a bunch of idiots running things over there.”
    “Be serious.”
    “Oh, I am.”
    “About us. I meant be serious about us.”
    “Oh.” He tipped my chin until we were nose to nose, eye to eye. “I am.”
    “JR—”
    He silenced me with a kiss. And then he did it again. Although silencing me, about then… Not too difficult. “Tell me you’re okay with who I am.”
    Hope and desperation laced his expression; a niggle of contrition scratched at my conscience. But I had to keep him at bay, I couldn’t tell him the frightening truth about my feelings for him until I was sure. Until I was safe.
    “Please. Tell me you’re okay with who I am. Because that’s the last, the very last, of my secrets. Well.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Except for one more.”
    “You have one more secret?” I lifted a brow.
    He nodded.
    “Will you tell me what it is?”
    He nodded again but his gaze didn’t meet mine. He toyed with the twill on my skirt. “If this is going to continue, you need to know all my secrets, just like I need to know yours.”
    Cupping his cheek with my palm, I urged him to meet my eyes. “Tell me.” He sucked in a breath, tried to turn away. I wouldn’t let him. “Tell me.” My voice was a low thrum. I knew what he was going to say. At least I hoped I did. Because I needed to hear it. With a desperation that matched his.
    “Sam, I’m crazy about you.”
    Ah.
    Something deep within me released. He needed me as I needed him. Craved me as I craved him.
    I was not a toy to him. Or a conquest. I was not a slave or a sub.
    I was part of this.
    Part of us.
    A partner in the adventure.
    I cupped his other cheek and held his face there before me, glorying in his beauty, his vulnerability and the stark, simple truth he laid open before me. “Jackson Robert Carter.”
    “Yes?” A shudder.
    “I’m crazy about you too.”
    * * * * *
     
    Much later, so much later that the sun had dipped beneath the horizon and the street lamps had woken up for the night, and the corporate office building was an empty, echoing tomb, we emerged. Another delicious, divine and daunting tryst behind us.
    “Are you ready to go home?” he asked, and somehow the question was so much more than words.
    Home.
    Home meant us.