Turning toward Cara, I noticed she’d placed a single chocolate cupcake on my desk. I also noticed she was leaning over just enough for me to catch a peek down her shirt.

Good girl.

“What’s this for?” I asked, pointing toward the confectionary delight.

“Well, you said you wanted to celebrate every anniversary. Even the cheesy ones. So, today marks a first for us.”

My eyebrow rose in confusion.

“Today, one week ago, you kissed me for the first time.”

“We’re celebrating our first kiss?” I asked.

A giant smile spread across her face.

“But I thought we weren’t allowed to do such things in the office? Professionalism and all.”

“I said we had to stay professional during office hours. It’s after five,” she reminded me, motioning toward the clock.

Rising, I grabbed the cupcake in my hand and walked around the desk, leaning against it in front of her. She moved closer as I scooped off some of the frosting with my finger. I watched as she bent down and licked it off with her pretty pink lips.

“I’d like to see you do that with something else,” I said as her mouth sucked every inch of frosting from my skin.

“I think we can arrange that, Mr. Cavenaugh.”

I grinned. “Just so we’re clear, you and I are no longer being professional?”

“No.”

“Good. Then go lock the door,” I demanded.

“Yes.” Her voice was breathless.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir,” she added, her gaze meeting mine, as she clicked the lock in place.

“I want you here.” I pointed to the desk.

She did as I’d said, loving every minute of this game as much as I was.

I’d never fucked a woman at work. I’d never planned to. It was out of bounds.

But with Cara? Everything was in bounds. Everything counted.

“Hands here. Don’t move them.” I instructed, turning my attention to the edge of the desk. She eagerly placed each hand flat and wide on the grainy wood. I walked around her, admiring her, loving her.

She was wearing one of her beloved sweater dresses and tights. I pushed her legs wide, running my hands up her inner thighs.

“What’s this?” I asked. I’d expected to find classic tights, but I’d found lace instead. Lifting her dress, I smiled.

My innocent, sweet girl was wearing her signature cotton panties—doughnut print, this time—but today, she’d added lace thigh-highs.

“What a little conundrum you are,” I said in approval, dragging the cotton panties down her silky legs until they hit the floor.

She kicked them aside as I stepped in close.

“Remember, don’t move your hands,” I reminded her.

I made quick work of my jacket and tie. My fingers worked the belt and fly of my pants with precision. I was already hard. Hell, I’d been hard for days, even minutes after having her.