“Oh, fuck,” Cooper muttered, tipping his head back. He dragged his fingers through Park’s hair. His skin tightened, prickling with awareness, the sound of a tongue on skin and Park’s heavy breaths sinfully Pavlovian. Suddenly Park pushed him backward so that he stumbled and fell, grunting, into the sturdy chair behind the desk, the leather creaking beneath him. “Jesus, what was that for?” “I’m being proactive. You were feeling weak in the knees.”
