Proof of Concept

“Mr. Vale—” My voice was barely a whisper, my heart suddenly pounding against my ribs.

“Carter,” he corrected, his voice low and rough. “If we’re going to be working this closely together, we might as well dispense with the formalities.”

I gulped, my skin buzzing where he touched me. This was a terrible idea. A disaster waiting to happen. He was my boss, at least temporarily. The man who held my team’s future—and mine—in his hands.

I knew all the reasons I should pull away. Every HR policy, every feminist principle, every shred of self-preservation screamed at me to put distance between us.

But then he leaned in, his breath heating my cheek, and every logical thought vanished.

“Margo,” he murmured, my name a caress on his lips.

And then his mouth was on mine.

The first touch was electric, a shock to my system that short-circuited every rational thought. His lips were firm, demanding, but not harsh. He kissed me like he did everything else—with absolute focus and devastating thoroughness.

I melted into him, my body betraying every principle I held dear. My hands fisted in the crisp cotton of his shirt, pulling him closer. He made a low sound in his throat, his arms banding around me, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of my head, the other splaying across my lower back, pressing me flush against him.

The kiss deepened, his tongue sliding against mine, exploring, claiming. He tasted like coffee and something uniquely him, something dark and addictive. I felt dizzy, lightheaded, as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room.

When we finally broke apart, my lips felt swollen, my breath coming in short, sharp pants. His eyes were dark, pupils blown, his hair mussed from my fingers.

We stared at each other for a long, charged moment, the only sound the ragged symphony of our breathing.

Then reality crashed over me like a bucket of ice water. I scrambled back, my hand flying to my mouth. “We can’t do this. This is a mistake.”

He reached for me, but I evaded his touch. “Margo—”

“No.” I shook my head, backing toward the door. “This never happened. We never happened.” I fumbled for the doorknob, my fingers shaking. “I have to go.”

I fled the room like the hounds of hell were at my heels, my heels clicking a frantic rhythm against the marble floor. I didn’t slow down until I reached the elevator, jabbing the down button with more force than necessary.

As the doors slid shut, I sagged against the wall, my legs suddenly weak. What had I just done? What was I thinking?

“You weren’t thinking,” I muttered to my reflection in the polished metal. “That’s the problem.”

I closed my eyes, but all I could see was the heat in Carter’s eyes, feel the phantom pressure of his lips against mine. My fingers trembled as I touched my mouth, the skin sensitive and slightly swollen.

This couldn’t happen again. I wouldn’t let it. No matter how much my body craved his touch, no matter how my heart raced at the memory of his kiss.

But as the elevator descended, carrying me farther away from him, I couldn’t escape the conviction that I was making a mistake. That I was running from something that could be…everything.

I avoided him for the next week. Every time I saw him in the hall, I turned and walked the other way. I screened his calls, had my assistant handle any requests he sent my way. I was a coward, and I knew it, but I didn’t trust myself around him. Not yet. Not when the memory of that kiss still burned so brightly in my mind.

But avoidance could only last so long. Especially when Sterling & Finch sent us both to Chicago for a high-stakes pitch to a major client—a client that could make or break our year.

I spent the entire flight to O’Hare on high alert, my body tense, my nerves frayed. Every time Carter shifted in his seat beside me, I flinched, half-expecting him to touch me. To push me. To demand we finish what we started.

But he was the perfect professional, his attention focused solely on his laptop, his demeanor inscrutable. As if that night in the conference room had never happened.

It was infuriating. And more than a little disappointing.

By the time we reached our hotel, I was strung tighter than a bowstring, my emotions a tangled mess of anxiety, anticipation, and anger—though whether I was angry at him or myself, I couldn’t say.

Our rooms were adjoining, a fact that sent a fresh wave of panic through me. I barricaded myself inside, flipping the deadbolt and chaining the door for good measure. As if that would keep him out. As if I even wanted it to.

I lasted all of an hour before a knock sounded at the door. I froze, my heart leaping into my throat. I knew who it was before I even opened it.

Sure enough, Carter stood on the other side, his jacket slung over his arm, his tie loose around his neck. He’d unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt, revealing a slice of tanned skin that made my mouth go dry.

His eyes swept over me, hot and hungry, before returning to my face. “We need to talk.”

I gulped, my hand tightening on the doorframe. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Bullshit.” He took a step closer, his body filling the doorway, his scent wrapping around me like a caress. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I’ve been busy.” My voice came out breathy, betraying me.

“Liar.” He reached out, his fingertips grazing my cheek, tracing the line of my jaw. “You’re afraid.”

I turned my face away, but I didn’t pull back. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“You’re afraid of this.” His thumb brushed over my lower lip, his touch achingly gentle. “Of us.”

“There is no us.” I forced the words out, even as my body swayed toward his. “There can’t be.”

“Why?” He leaned in, his lips grazing the shell of my ear. “Because of some arbitrary HR policy? Because I’m your boss?”

“Yes!” I pulled back, my heart hammering against my ribs. “For all those reasons and more.”

He studied me for a long moment, his demeanor inscrutable. Then he nodded once, as if coming to a decision. “Alright. We’ll play it your way.”

Relief washed over me, so potent it left me lightheaded. “Thank you. I appreciate your understanding.”

But instead of leaving, he stepped into the room, crowding me back, kicking the door shut behind him. “I understand plenty, Margo.” He backed me toward the bed, his eyes dark with intent. “I understand that you want me as much as I want you. I understand that you’re just looking for permission to let yourself have it.”

I shook my head, even as my body trembled with need. “No. That’s not—”

He cut me off with a kiss, his mouth hot and demanding on mine. I resisted for all of a heartbeat before I melted into him, my arms winding around his neck, my body pressing against his.

We tumbled onto the bed in a jumble of limbs, mouths fused, hands roaming. He kissed me like he was drowning and I was his only source of air, his tongue sliding against mine, his teeth nipping at my lower lip.

I whimpered into his mouth, my fingers weaving through his hair, pulling him closer. He settled between my thighs, his hardness pressing against my core, and I arched into him, seeking more friction, more heat.

“Carter,” I gasped as his mouth moved down my throat, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin. “Please.”

“Please what?” He pushed up my skirt, his palm skimming up my thigh, hooking into my panties. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you.” I rocked against his hand, mindless with need. “I want this.”

He yanked my panties aside, his fingers sliding through my wetness. “Thank fuck.” He circled my clit with his thumb, teasing me, tormenting me. “Because I don’t think I could stop even if you asked me to.”

Then his mouth was on me, hot and wet and filthy, and I stopped thinking altogether. I fisted my hands in the sheets, my hips bucking, my breath coming in sharp, desperate gasps.

He worked me with lips and tongue and teeth, driving me higher and higher, until I was teetering on the edge of release. Then he pulled back, his fingers replacing his mouth, thrusting inside me, curling to hit that perfect spot.

I came with a cry, my body shuddering, my vision whiting out. He wrung every last tremor from me, his touch relentless, merciless, perfect.

When I finally floated back down, he was kissing his way up my body, his clothes vanished somewhere along the way. I blinked up at him, dazed and sated and still hungry for more.