Excerpt: Hunter Pains

No one stopped Roxy on their way into the building or up to one of several floors housing the offices of Cavanaugh Realty Trust. She was commanding—in her element as she sauntered past reception and said she had a meeting to take.
She closed the office door, leaned against it and smiled.
“No little velvet dress,” he mused, moving in to fan open her coat.
“I could arrange it. If that’s your thing.”
“We’re here to work on your things.”
“I like knowing your things.”
One slip of his finger and he could curl underneath the fabric, caress her soft skin. Hunter stepped in close, hovered his mouth over her neck.
“You’re my thing,” he whispered.
Roxy shivered, then grabbed his lapels and pulled him flush against her. “It’s not fair, how badly you make me want you.”
He wasn’t spinning higher off those words. He wasn’t. “This wouldn’t work very well if I didn’t.”
“And I suppose you think this is working well.”
Always fighting him. He smiled at her. “I do. Because I know what you need.”
“And what’s that?”
She tried to tug off his coat, but Hunter held her still, shoved her back against the door. “You need to combat me first. To be told what a brat you are. You’re like me. Sex isn’t enough for you. You need your mind fucked. You need me deep in your head, twisting things around. You need to feel more than just pleasure. You need a fight or you’re gonna get bored.”
Roxy groaned, then smirked. “Yeah. You’re right.”
She attempted to grapple with his coat, then growled when he wouldn’t let her move. Hunter laughed and released his hold on her, allowed her to shove it off him. She shed her coat next, and he permitted it, because it was fun to let her think she was in charge for a minute. She reached for his belt and started unlatching it. Hunter wrenched her hands up, held them between them.
“But there’s one thing you have to remember, Sugar.”
“What’s that?”
He leaned in close. “That I will always win that fight.”
He kissed her then, raked his teeth over her lower lip. Roxy kissed him back with equal fervor. Hunter released her hands, allowed her to wrap them around his neck, and picked her up. He was losing his focus, letting his desire for her cloud what he’d brought her here for, but it felt too good to have her clinging to him, her legs hooked over his hips, any cold he’d felt outside burning off with the fevered pitch of their desperate kisses. He walked to the window, then let her down to her feet. She didn’t fight back when he turned her around to face the glass and pressed her palms against it. Or when he pressed his own palm to her belly and slid it beneath the waistband of her leggings.
“Fuck yes,” she whispered.
“People can see us, you know.”
Her grin reflected off the window. “I know.”