Consenting Adults by J. Lea López Page B

didn't know what they were talking about. Malcolm
cleared his throat, drawing her attention back to him.
    “It seems we've come across the mistletoe,” he said,
motioning to the sprig of greenery hanging a few feet above their heads.
    “I see.”
    He trailed his fingertips over her arm. “I'd hate to end up
in a report on the human resources desk come Monday.”
    “It's only sexual harassment if it's unwanted contact.” And
she wouldn't mind a bit of contact with him at all. “Not if we're two
consenting adults.”
    “Would it be okay if I kissed you, then?”
    Sasha's breath caught low in her belly. “Yes. Quite.”
    He cupped her chin, tilting it up to meet his lips.  She
closed her eyes and surrendered to the gentle pressure of his mouth against
hers.
    What on earth had she done to get on Santa's extra special
nice list this year? Whatever it was, she would try to replicate it next year.
    He pulled away too soon. She stepped closer and stared up
into his eyes.
    “That was nice,” she said. It was more than nice, but she
didn't want to sound overeager.
    “I agree. Can we do it again?”
    Something about the way he asked tickled the base of her
spine and flooded her face with warmth. She nodded.
    This time he slid his hand to the back of her neck,
supporting her against the force of his kiss. Still gentle, but more urgent.
His tongue slipped past her lips and he tasted every inch of her mouth. She
wanted to open up and consume him completely, but the weight of several pairs
of eyes kept her desire in check. Just before she thought she might pass out,
he broke the connection and she gulped in a breath. They stood there a few more
seconds, bodies pressed together, mouths only a whisper apart.
    “Well okay.” Jake's voice broke the spell. “That's how you
do it.”
    Sasha laughed nervously and swiped her thumb across
Malcolm's bottom lip to wipe away a lipstick smudge. He raked his fingers
through her hair, sending a pleasant chill over her scalp, before pulling away
and nodding toward the bar.
    “Another drink?” He offered his elbow, which Sasha gladly
accepted.
    Once they were far enough away that their coworkers lost
interest, she squeezed his arm.
    “I don't really want another drink,” she said. His mouth was
the only thing she wanted on hers. How she could still walk in her high heels
was beyond her. Her knees were weak.
    Malcolm changed direction and led her through a side door
into a deserted hallway.
    “What did you have in mind?”
    His question caught her off guard. She thought it was pretty
obvious what she had in mind. She thought he was on the same page, but maybe
not. He didn't move to kiss her again.
    Instead, he brushed her hair away from her face, tucking it
behind her ears. The caress of his fingertips over her cheeks and around her
ears released the shiver that had been building in her spine. A faint trace of
music from the banquet room carried into the hallway.
    “How about a dance?” he asked.
    She nodded and allowed herself to be drawn close to his
body. He fit her curves just so. His arm around her waist, her hip against his,
palms pressed together. They swayed to their own rhythm. She nuzzled against
the side of his neck, breathing in a faint spicy cologne. It was surreal. To be
dancing to barely audible music, in an empty hallway, with her work crush. Who
couldn't seem to get enough of her. He slid his hands up her back, over her
arms. Brushed his lips across her neck and shoulder, but didn't kiss her.
Combed his fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp.
    “Malcolm.” She wrapped her arms around his torso. “Please
kiss me.”
    He backed her up against the wall and almost kissed her.
Almost. His breath tickled her lips. What was this game he was playing?
    “Yes,” she urged. “Please.”
    He obliged with a barrage of intense kisses, bruising her
lips and probing the recesses of her soul with his tongue. Never before had a
“crush” left her so breathless. The wall