Indecent...Desires Read Online Free PDF Page A

belly.
    Then his hands move to his trousers, work the belt, work the zip. He eases them down over his hips, then slowly pushes his boxers down to meet them.
    I am at my window before I’ve even realised that I’ve moved, my hands pressed to the cold barrier of glass as he stands there and simply lets me look. His cock is hard but he makes no move to touch himself, to give me the satisfaction I crave.
    He stares at me for a long, terrifying moment. And then he yanks the curtains closed.

Chapter Four
    The next morning he doesn’t turn up until half past nine, despite his allotted start time of eight-thirty, and by the time he wanders in, this time in a white shirt and navy blue sleeveless jumper, I am no longer Meredith the Unflappable.
    I am Meredith the Anxious. More correctly, I am Meredith the Nervous Wreck. My head is full of confused thoughts about yesterday and last night, and the fact that he has the nerve to stroll in an hour late looking cool and beautiful almost pushes me over the edge. When I stood in my window last night, he saw me. I know he did. And then he closed the curtains, which can only mean one thing. Lucas knows that I am the one who has been sending him the notes, and he is disgusted by it.
    I have decided that my only option is to ignore it. To ignore him, as much as I possibly can. It’s better this way, I tell myself.
    He stops in front of my desk. ‘Good morning.’
    â€˜You’re late,’ I point out, as I squeeze staples into a document and refuse to look at him. ‘You were supposed to be here an hour ago.’
    â€˜I slept in,’ he says, as if that excuses everything.
    I didn’t sleep at all, and I was still here on time. ‘And?’
    â€˜I’m sorry,’ he says softly. He places his hands on top of my desk and leans closer, giving me no choice but to look at him.
    God, this is humiliating. ‘What for?’
    â€˜For turning up late.’ Of course he means this morning. Of course he isn’t talking about last night. He can’t possibly know how much what he did hurt me, when he only did what he should have done in the first place. I crunch my stapler through another pile of papers, wishing he would hurry up and leave. This is beyond embarrassing now. I am just a stupid thirty-something divorcee with a crush on a much younger man. It’s desperate, really it is. And yet as I look at him now, I am filled to bursting with that powerful sense of longing. I wonder what he would do if I told him to get under my desk and put his mouth on my pussy and stay there until I tell him to come out. ‘Get to work,’ I say.
    I turn my attention back to my stapling. I don’t want him to know the effect he’s having on me. But when he turns and walks away, I watch the way the fabric of his trousers pulls tight across his arse, which is trim and muscular. I want to sink my teeth into that firm flesh. What sort of a woman thinks that? What sort of woman actually fantasises about biting a man on the arse? The sort who should be ashamed of herself. And I am. I am.
    I reply to emails and update the diary and take coffee with milk and three sugars to a senior member of staff who only drinks black. ‘Are you all right, Meredith?’ he asks, as I apologise and fluster and rush out to make a replacement cup.
    â€˜Absolutely,’ I say. ‘I do apologise. I don’t know what I was thinking.’
    Though I do. I know exactly what I was thinking. I settle myself back down at my desk and am in the middle of giving myself a severe talking to when the phone goes on my desk. Internal call. ‘Yes?’
    â€˜Ms French, it’s Lucas.’
    â€˜What do you want?’
    â€˜I’m having a bit of a problem,’ he says. His voice sounds…strange.
    â€˜What sort of problem?’
    â€˜Well, you see, I…I looked at some things on the computer again. I didn’t mean to. It was a mistake. Really, it