Caitlin Snow slid her feet out of her low-heeled shoes and wiggled her toes, absently, it had been a long day and, as usual, she was one of the last people to leave the lab. She put down the binder she'd been holding and stepped onto the wooden stool she'd placed at the base of a tall bookcase. She could've reached the binders on the top shelf, but she hadn't been able to see the labels. Dr. Wells had told her, when she'd asked about a few medical journal entries from several years back, to look on his bookshelf since he'd catalogued them by year. Naturally the ones she needed seemed likely to be on the top shelf. She grasped the shelf for balance and glanced at the neat, orderly row of plain, white binders. She was sliding one out when she heard a voice behind her.
"You should be careful, Dr. Snow."
Caitlin turned and felt her foot slip; she clutched at the shelf but it tipped forward and she dropped the binder she was holding to try and steady it. The heavy binder struck her chest and she lost her balance. A strong pair of hands grasped her hips, steadying her.
"One of your dowels is broken," she said to Dr. Wells, placing a hand over the spot where the binder had struck.
"Don't worry about it, just come down." He didn't release her hips until both of her feet were on the carpet. She turned around and looked up at Harrison Wells who frowned up at the shelf. "Are you okay?" he asked, turning his gaze to her. She rubbed her chest and winced, sucking air in through her teeth.
"Yes, I think I'm fine." He raised a dark eyebrow and gently lifted her hand away from her chest. She automatically brought the other one up to cover and he gave her a 'Look', before pulling the other hand away.
"Let me see." He released her wrists and gently moved her collar. "Tilt your chin up." She obeyed. He parted the front of her black blouse and prodded at a dark, red and purple spot on her sternum. "You lost a button," he said absently.
Caitlin looked down and noticed the blouse's missing button had revealed the gold, lacy edges of her bra and the pale curve of her breasts. Wells' finger was against her skin and she stepped back, automatically, clutching the edges of the garment and grabbing his hand. He stood up straight, looking surprised.
"Sorry," she said, realizing how her actions might have been insulting. "It's a knee-jerk reaction when you're a girl and someone's reaching for your chest."
"I'm glad your knee didn't jerk in this case," he replied, a little coldly.
"I didn't mean that I actually thought you were-um…" She licked her lips nervously. His eyes were glacial blue, even when he smiled. He wasn't smiling now.
"What?" he asked, quietly.
"I know you weren't trying something, I was just embarrassed about my shirt." She forced her hands to relax from where they were clutching at her collar. "You're Dr. Wells," she babbled. "You wouldn't look- I mean you're not…" She sighed and decided to stop digging herself in deeper.
"I'm not what?" he asked, in the same, quiet tone. He returned his gaze to the bruise on her chest and gently pushed the fabric to the sides again. He poked at the center of the bruise.
"Ow," she said, trying to keep her hands at her sides. His touch was gentle, exploratory and slow. He used both of his thumbs to gently press in circles around the obviously sore spot. "I mean you're a scientist," she said, trying not to think about his cool fingers pressing gently at the edges of her breasts. The binder had struck just above her cleavage and a reddened area had spread out from the dark spot.
"I'm a scientist," he repeated, straightening up and sliding the edges of her blouse back together. "You think that means I'm not a man?" He didn't back away from their intimate posture against the bookshelf.
"Yes," she said, automatically. "I mean, no! I mean, of course you're a man," she gestured vaguely at his midsection and lower. "That's obvious."
"If that's how you know," he said, "I should probably get looser-fitting pants."
Caitlin opened her mouth to speak and stopped. She tried to force her brain to work but she could feel herself blushing to the roots of her hair. His gaze fell to her parted lips and stayed there for a few heartbeats before dropping to her chest again. "My hands must have been cold," he finally said, pushing away from the bookshelf and walking out of his office. "Let me know when you're done in there so I can lock up." He was already walking away, hands in his pockets, whistling softly.
Caitlin looked down, Wells' hands hadn't been cold, she didn't understand his meaning at first but realization dawned on her that the thin crepe fabric did little to hide the fact that her nipples were standing erect. She stepped back up onto the stool and put the offending binder back. She decided to look the magazine up online or at the library before she spent another moment in the office. She hurried back to her desk and grabbed her purse. There were only a handful of people still present but she waited for Wells to finish his conversation with one of the lab techs.
By the time the other man left, Caitlin was one of only three people, including Dr. Wells, who remained in the building. She picked up a paper clip and used it to hold the edges of her blouse together. She picked up her coat, a charcoal gray, London Fog trench coat. It had been drizzling rain all day so she'd worn it and brought an umbrella. She walked to where Wells was standing but saw his phone pressed to his ear. He was talking in a low voice so she went back to her desk to wait for him to finish. She searched online for the magazine volume she wanted and found only the article's abstract. She bit her lip and glanced around the corner. Wells was facing the other direction and still on the phone. She put on her coat and went back to his office, stepping back on the stool and searching the binder labels until she found the correct month and year.
Caitlin took her prize back to her work area and used the photocopier/scanner to make digital copies of the article she needed and transferred them to the thumb drive she kept on her keychain. She closed the binder and went back to the hallway which was mostly dark now. She glanced around and didn't see Dr. Wells so she hurried back to his office. She kicked off her heels, hurriedly and tugged up her pencil skirt to step up onto the stool replacing the binder in its original spot. She started to step backwards and felt a pair of hands at her waist. She managed to avoid jumping out of her skin as the strong hands all but lifted her down. His long fingers wrapped around her sides and his thumb brushed her bare skin where her shirt had ridden up. She felt his breath on her hair; he was standing directly behind her.
"Thank you," she said, turning her head to the side. She'd only worked at the lab for a short time but Wells had always been completely professional towards her. Nevertheless, there was something in his expression each time he looked at her. It was the slightest hint of familiarity, like he already knew her intimately, a term that hadn't mean much until tonight.
"You're welcome," he said, softly, without moving away.
"I didn't mean to say anything offensive," she said, turning to face him. Without her shoes he seemed so tall. "When-earlier, when you were touching my chest." She pressed her lips together. "I've lost the ability to speak tonight," she said, exhaling slowly and letting her head fall back and shoulders slump in defeat.
"What did you mean to say?" he asked, removing his glasses, the only barrier between her and his brilliantly blue eyes. "Your initial reaction was to push me away, because I was touching you," he said. "And then you told me that you shouldn't have reacted that way because I'm a scientist."
"I reacted to you touching me the same way I reacted to the last person who unexpectedly pulled open my shirt," she replied. "That was freshman year of college," she took in a breath before continuing. "Then I thought I reacted too quickly because, as a scientist and as my boss, you wouldn't have been pulling my shirt open in order to look at my breasts." She managed to get the words out, bluntly and honestly.
"I might be a man of science," he said with a slow nod, "and I might be your boss. But I am still a man and I still think like a man when I see a gold, embroidered bra and breasts pushed together."
"Oh." The word barely made it past her teeth.
His hands touched Caitlin's shoulders, drawing her coat back and sliding it down. His knuckles grazed her bare arms. Something about the gesture seemed right to her, his movements were relaxed, as if he'd done it before.
"You've made interesting use of a paperclip," he said, glancing at her chest. He dropped her coat to the floor and slid the tips of his fingers up her arms and to her collar bone. "Were you attempting to be modest?"
"Yes," she replied. "I never intended to show anyone…anything at work."
"No one else is in the building," he said, taking a tiny step closer to her. "Are you going to stop me?"
Caitlin didn't answer but Wells knew the wait was over. It was the way she stared at him, he decided. She looked at him like he could move mountains. He plucked the paper clip from the front of her blouse and gently brushed the bruise between her breasts with the tip of a finger. Her neck was slender and he could see her pulse jumping frantically in her throat. He knew it wasn't fair, but knowing the future meant you knew how someone would react to certain situations. The beautiful young woman would have never made a move unless he'd orchestrated the fall, torn off the button when her gaze had been elsewhere and asked her, point blank, if she'd thought he was a man. She might have had a crush but she never would have made the first move.
Fair or not, Harrison Wells ruthlessly used his knowledge of Caitlin Snow to direct his own actions. Her repressed, serious nature covered a woman who wanted to be pushed past her limits. He jerked her blouse open and refused to acknowledge the flash of fear in her face. He smoothed his palms over her belly and ribs, drawing them up and underneath the edges of her bra. She looked at a spot over his shoulder, freezing when confronted with the sexuality of the man she admired so much. Her nipples, dark berries under the gold lace, were tightly beaded and flushed. Her cheeks were pink and her lips were moist and slightly swollen. To a scientist, it was as clear as writing in a book. She was in a heightened state of arousal and wanted to proceed with the ritual that she'd been too embarrassed to name out loud.
Wells brushed his thumbs over the pointed tips of the perky breasts under his hands. Caitlin's breath came more hurriedly when he rubbed her nipples through the thin lace. He jerked her blouse down her arms and discarded it, reaching behind her back and unfastening the hooks in her bra. Her shoulders stiffened when he slid the lacy scrap of fabric off and dropped it on the floor. He inhaled sharply when he finally cupped her breasts in his hands. She was perfect. While not overly large, her breasts were round and firm and she leaned into his touch. She closed her eyes and took shallow, quiet breaths while he stroked and rubbed her sensitive skin.
Wells removed his suit jacket and dropped it behind him, he wanted Caitlin to touch him but lacked the patience on their first time to wait for her to take the initiative. He unbuttoned his shirt and picked up one of her delicate hands, placing her palm on his chest. He wasn't bulky but he was muscular and toned and he saw her pupils dilate when she first encountered his warm skin. She looked up and met his gaze, confusion and excitement warring for dominance. She couldn't believe what she was letting him do but she was also realizing how intense their connection was.
Wells knew how strong Caitlin's feelings were. She would tell him, eventually, and he would know when to push her. He gripped her wrist, holding eye contact, and moved her hand down his belly and over his belt to press her palm to the front of his pants. She took in a jerky breath, eyes widening when she felt the thick, hard ridge under her fingers. She squeezed, reflexively before, frightened by her own boldness, she tried to pull away.
Now was the moment, Wells knew. He moved the naïve young woman away from the bookshelf, backing her to the wall beside his couch and fastening his lips to her neck. When her bare skin met the smooth, cold surface, Caitlin tensed and gripped his forearms. He pulled her away from the wall and pushed her onto the cushions of the big couch. He slid his hands up her thighs, under her skirt and jerked her panties down her legs. He knelt on the couch, tugged her legs apart and pushed her skirt up to her waist. She tried to get her elbows under her, tried to sit up but he unbuckled his belt and her eyes were glued to his hands. She was pale, a little afraid, but he already knew how this night would end. He tore open his trousers and his erection sprang free. He pushed her thighs apart and pressed his mouth to her moist center. She tasted like heaven and the tiny whimper she let out when his tongue slid up her folds and swirled around her clitoris made him throb with need. Her trembling fingers slid into his dark hair and clutched at him when he sucked her gently.
"Ah!" Caitlin made the one syllable sound before biting her lip to hold back the noise. Her hands flew to the arm of the couch pillowed under her neck and she gripped it tightly. Wells spent a little more time with his face between her legs, learning how she liked it. His mouth moved up to her breasts and he played with them, squeezing, stroking and sucking at her nipples. Eventually he gripped her knees and moved his hips between her slender thighs.
Caitlin shook her head back and forth, eyes closed, this wasn't really happening. Her boss, brilliant and fascinating Dr. Harrison Wells hadn't just been pleasuring her with his mouth. He took a condom out of his pocket, tore the packet open and rolled the latex barrier on. He seemed to know exactly what she liked and now, pressing himself into her, she opened her eyes. His face looked almost savage. His gaze was focused on her face with a hot, possessive expression. His jaw was clenched as her body slowly gave way for his thick, erection. He was as hard as a poker, stiff and hot; it was hotter than the rest of him. He rocked his hips carefully until he was fully within her. He brought both his hands up to intertwine their fingers and hold her hands beside her head. Finally, after everything he'd been doing to her, he took her mouth. His hips began to move and he pushed his tongue past her lips.
Caitlin tasted herself on Wells' tongue, excited and surprised by him. He moved against her, a fast, brute rhythm. He was clutching her hands impatiently, moving his lips to her throat and shoulder, biting her earlobe and neck as he rutted, slapping their pelvises together, claiming her body. He groaned her name in her ear and she climaxed, arching up and crying out, writhing beneath him. He pounded into her as if he wanted to drive her through the cushions, keeping his pace until her body had stopped clenching before allowing himself to finish.
Bleary- eyed, Caitlin watched Wells' face tense up and felt his entire body stiffen and strain as his thick organ pulsed inside her. A shudder ran through him at the end and she swore his whole body blurred for a second in the dim light. They panted together and he pressed his sweaty face into her neck, catching his breath while their bodied remained connected. He levered himself up on one arm and cupped her cheek, brushing away the strands of hair that stuck to her. His eyes roved over her flushed features with an odd, surprised fascination. He kissed her tenderly, sweetly, after their bodies had cooled before sliding out of her and discarding the condom in a conveniently close trash can. She winced slightly and he paused, tucking himself away in his pants.
"Did I hurt you?" Wells asked, buckling his belt. He still knelt between Caitlin's legs and prevented her from immediately assuming a more modest pose. He liked the way she looked, open and awkward, wearing only her skirt around her waist.
"It's just been a while," she said, shyly, scooting backwards and bringing her leg up and over him so she could sit up and smooth her clothes.
"I'm not sorry." Caitlin's eyes flew to him, briefly before she turned away, nodding slightly. It wasn't a real reply but he didn't press her for one. She spied her panties in a ball on the floor but as she reached for them, Wells scooped them up and tucked them in his pocket. "You'll have to get them from me later." She nodded again, not looking at him and tucked her hair behind her ears. She got up stiffly and winced but he pretended not to notice. Her orgasm had been so pure and unexpected it was like a drug. He would never have enough of her. She stood and padded, barefoot to her shoes and coat, pulling on her blouse and stuffing her bra in her jacket pocket before swinging it over her shoulders. She walked out his office door and picked up her purse without slowing down and headed for the exit. Knowing the future; knowing that this was only the beginning for them didn't save Wells from the pang in his chest when she walked away.