Trey
Never in a million years would I have guessed Sheridan would enjoy watching me fight. She must, though, because she launches herself right at me. I pick her up, wrap those muscular legs around my back and carry her to my office like a conquering Viking.
She laughs in my ear, low and husky. Her scent’s up in my nostrils—vanilla, orange and the feminine musk of her arousal.
Shit.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she breathes against my neck as I kick the door shut.
I push her back against the wall and grind into the notch of her legs. “Tell you what?”
“You were fighting. Why didn’t you want me to know?”
I slide my hands up under her shirt, groan when I find she’s braless. I squeeze her ample breasts, rub my thumbs over her n*****s. “I didn’t know you’d like it.” My voice sounds rough to
