All Night Long

     Matt wondered what would have happened if he'd let that kiss go on just a few moments longer... if he'd pushed her jacket off of her slender shoulders and opened the little pearl buttons on that lacy blouse... if he'd unzipped that long flowing skirt and let it drop to the floor... if he'd stripped her down to nothing but those elegant high-buttoned boots and a rosy blush... if he'd lifted her up and lay her back on her wide, polished desk.
     Would she have objected? Pushed him away and slapped his face? Or would she have clutched at his bare flesh as fervently as she'd clutched at his lapels when he kissed her? Would she have melted against him, opening her body for his possession the way she'd opened her lips to his tongue? And would he be remembering how good it had felt to be sheathed inside her heat and softness instead of wondering how it might feel?
     The need to know was rapidly becoming an obsession.
     And he couldn't afford obsessions.
     And, yet, here he sat, obsessing.
     Wondering.
     Fantasizing.
     And to hell with what it could do to his career.
     No, I don't mean that, he thought with a quick spurt of guilt. His career was all important right now. It needed his full, undivided attention. Which was why he couldn't let himself be distracted by a woman who wasn't even his type in the first place.
     There was only one thing to do. He'd see her again, take her out, then take her to bed as soon as she'd let him. One night in his bed, doing everything he'd spent the last few days fantasizing about, and he'd be completely rid of his ridiculous obsession with her. Once he knew what she felt like and tasted like, once the mystery was gone, he'd be able to get her out of his mind. He hoped.
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