“This is my office. My door is open.”

“Don’t care.”

“But…I work here. People know me.”

“Still don’t care.” I unbuckled my belt and unsnapped my jeans.

She sucked in a breath. I pulled her up from her chair. She was wearing a cream-colored silk blouse and a black sheath skirt. No pantyhose from what I could tell.

I bent her over her desk and lifted her skirt. God, basic beige cotton panties. And for some reason, they were the hottest thing I’d ever seen. I ripped them off her.

“Tell me now, Melanie. Tell me now if you don’t want this, because if you don’t say no right this minute, I’m going to take you.”

“I want this,” she said softly. “Take me, Jonah. I want this.”

I plunged into her wet heat.

God, what sensation. I groaned. The sweet suction of her musky pussy completely enveloped my cock. I thrust in again and again, her beautiful ass spread out like a smorgasbord. I pumped into her, taking her. Below me, her breathing came rapidly, and soft moans escaped her lips, wafting their way to my ears, making my blood boil. I wanted to last, but before I knew it, I was nearing the edge.

“I’m going to come now, Melanie. Come hard and come into you. This is me, coming into you.”

“Yes,” she sobbed, her voice muffled by the blotter on the desk.

I pulled out, thrust once more, and emptied into her, my whole body shuddering.

I collapsed on top of her back, regretting that I hadn’t taken the time to remove all of our clothing.

There would be time for that later.

I inhaled and let out a deep breath. Finally, I withdrew.

I pulled up my jeans, snapped them, and buckled my belt. I helped Melanie up, straightening her skirt over that beautiful ass.

“I’m sorry you didn’t come. I’m sorry I couldn’t wait.”

She bit her lip. “It’s okay.”

“And I’m sorry if…”

“What?”

“If I was a little…forceful.”

She shook her head. “You asked me before you did anything. I said I wanted it.”

What if she had said no? I had been so filled with wanting. What if I hadn’t been able to stop?

Thank God she hadn’t wanted me to.

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted a woman as much as I want you. Seeing that scumbag kissing you…”

“Oliver.”

“Yes, I know it has a name.”

She sighed. “He’s not an ‘it.’ He’s a friend of mine from medical school. We were just going to have dinner.”

“It didn’t look like dinner.”

She moved away from her desk and sat down on the couch. “I don’t need to explain Oliver or anything else to you. But I would like to know why you showed up here tonight.”

I’d nearly forgotten. I did need to talk to her. “I had a talk with Tom Simpson today.”

“The mayor, right? Your friend’s father?”

“Yeah.”

She fidgeted, pulled her hands together, clasping and then unclasping them. Something was clearly bothering her, and I began to feel like an asshole. I hoped it didn’t have anything to do with Oliver Twist or whatever the hell his name was.

“Melanie? Are you okay?”

She closed her eyes and sighed. When she opened them, they were glazed over with unshed tears.

I reached toward her and cupped her cheek. “What’s going on?”

She shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. Give me a break. Is it…that other guy? Is he someone you wanted to be with? Is he…” I couldn’t bring myself to finish that sentence. Melanie Carmichael with another man wasn’t a thought I could form in my head.

“I’m fine. It’s not anything I can talk about.”

“You can tell me. My word is as good as gold.” I drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “Do you want to be with him?” It shouldn’t matter to me, but it did. I had gone batshit crazy when I saw them together.

“No, believe me. It’s not Oliver. I was telling the truth when I told you he was just a friend.”

“Why the kiss, then?” I felt like shit as soon as I’d said it. “Never mind. You don’t have to answer that. If that’s not the problem, what’s bothering you? Let me help.”

I truly did want to help. The thought of Melanie being in any kind of pain or distress bothered me. Disturbed me. Made me want to crush whoever was making her feel this way.

“I know that. But I really can’t talk about it.”

“At least tell me how I can help you.”

She rubbed her arms. “You can’t. I wish you could.”

“Oliver? Your…friend? Was he going to help you?”

“No. He’s a friend from med school, but he’s not a psychiatrist. He’s a pediatric nephrologist.”

“Nephrologist? That’s kidneys, right?”

“Yes. He just came in to town to do some work here on a temporary basis. We ran into each other at the coffee shop downstairs, and he invited me to dinner. It was all very innocent.”

Then why the kissing? The question sat on the edge of my vocal cords, but I refrained from asking it again. She was clearly upset about something, and now that I knew it didn’t have anything to do with this guy, I truly did want to help her. But she was being a closed book, as usual.

“Since you won’t talk to me, how about this? I ruined your dinner date, so can I take you to dinner?”

She smiled. Oh, what a beautiful smile it was. “You know? I’d like that.”

“Where were you going to go?”

“The sushi place a block away.”

Sushi? Really not my thing. I was a rancher, for God’s sake. A meat and potatoes kind of guy. But for Melanie Carmichael, I’d eat raw fish. “Sounds good,” I said, hoping I was pulling it off. “Sushi it is.”

She gave me another smile. And then her phone beeped. “Excuse me, I just need to take care of this.” She walked outside to the reception area to take the call. Within a few minutes, she was back. Her eyes were rimmed again with sadness—or was it fear?

“Melanie? What is it?”

“Nothing. But I’m afraid I can’t—”