Beyond Bliss (10 page)

A throat cleared over by the doorway. Christ, he bet even her burps sounded feminine and dainty. 

“Excuse me?” Impatience laced her sweet voice.

He clicked the mouse over the tiny dash on the window and minimized the footage on the screen. His best friend and partner was making some strange noise in his throat, so he took another moment to give him a scathing look. It was only then, when he felt in control, that he turned to face her.

The video stream didn’t do her justice. It hadn’t captured the heat in her eyes or the adorable flush that stained her cheeks. 

Or the movement of those beautiful breasts as her chest heaved with indignation. Images of his hands cupped around them as she undulated above him flashed across his mind. Smooth, silky skin stretched taut over curves that he’d worshipped with lips and fingers all night. 

Now, she stood in front of him with Tyrone and Rosie guarding her like sentinels, one at each side. The loose handle he had on his control slipped dangerously. “Do you need something Miss Harlow?” he asked tightly.

 She smiled. It was small, tight, and completely fake. “I wanted a quick meeting with you, but Rosie has assured me that your calendar is quite booked. Would you be able to spare me fifteen minutes of your time?” Her voice dripped with syrup, but it did nothing to sugarcoat the venom that blazed from her eyes. 

And there went his flaccid penis.

Cursing his uncontrollable appendage, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat and leaned his elbows on the desk so that his lap was shielded from an audience, but he needed to get her out of his office, and he had to do so quickly. 

“Go ahead.” He waved his hand dismissively as he spoke.

Behind her, Rosie choked on something between a cough and a laugh. Even though he ran his own company and led the life of a busy executive, he only behaved like a dick when the situation and people involved warranted it. Sophie didn’t deserve it, but he had to maintain some small measure of control.

And you can’t put your company at risk because you’re thinking with the wrong fucking head. 

“In private, please,” Sophie said between tightly clenched teeth. 

Rosie erupted in straight out laughter, and judging by the sounds coming from behind him, Sean was about to join her. 

“I have five minutes right now, but it has to be quick,” he said curtly. 

Tyrone and a still-laughing Rosie spun on their heels and left. She moved from the doorway and headed towards one of the chairs across from his desk right as Sean was headed out. They bumped into each other, and he bit back a curse when she sent Sean an apologetic smile.

The fucking bastard had done it on purpose. 

“Have fun guys,” Sean said with a jaunty salute and his hand on the doorknob. Just as Lucas opened his mouth to tell him not to shut the door, it slammed shut.

The resounding click at the end might as well have been from a trigger.

She sat across from him and delicately crossed her legs, keeping each of her arms at her sides on the armrests. She looked at him steadily, seemingly no longer angry, her posture cool and composed. The scent she wore attacked his senses. It was something feminine and floral, but light and fresh at the same time. His hands itched to touch her. He ached to bury his face against her soft skin and inhale the scent that was uniquely her until he could remember nothing else.

Memories of doing just that flashed across his mind once again.

Both of his heads began to throb. It shouldn’t have been possible, but he got even harder while the vein at his temple pulsed. 

Fuck.

*****

She was going to murder him before the day was over.

But she kept that thought to herself and instead folded her hands in her lap. Years of practicing law had taught her the necessity of a poker face, even under the direst duress. 

But she couldn’t help the spike of irritation she felt when he glanced at his watch. “You have four minutes and fifteen seconds left, Miss Harlow,” he muttered impatiently.

Damn him.

It was pure and utter torture sitting just a few feet away from him.

He’d leaned back in the black leather executive chair, twirling a silver Mont Blanc pen between his fingers. His pose was casual, confident, and he was clearly unperturbed by her presence. The fine material of both his shirt and suit fit his broad frame so perfectly that the garments had to have been made just for his body. His thick, dark hair appeared to be freshly cut, and despite the incredibly annoying bland expression on his face, his dark gray eyes glittered with intensity.

Of course every traitorous hormone in her body sat up and took notice. Heat spread from low in her belly to between her thighs. The tingle she felt when he was near fluttered in her chest. To her great annoyance, it had become a familiar feeling over the last four weeks.

She reminded herself that he was a pervert and a dirt bag who thought he could buy everything and anyone. He’d pretty much bought her. He’d bought her, locked her up in a pretty cage, and then proceeded to pretend like she didn’t exist.

Unfortunately, her mental coaching did nothing to sway her stubborn hormones. Almost as angry with herself as she was at him, she drew in a determined breath.

“Why did you bring me here?”

He looked at her as if she were slow. “This again? I thought we went over this with Carter.”

“If you think for one minute that I bought that tripe, you should take a look at the bridge I have for sale,” she snapped irritably.

The asshole simply arched an arrogant brow at her, but his lips twitched at the corners.

“Don’t look at me like that, Mr. Sinclair,” she sneered. “You expect me to believe that it’s pure coincidence that you happened to retain my firm—retain me exclusively—just weeks after I slept with you? Something that wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t stalked me in the first place?”

The silence that dominated the room after her outburst sparked with tension. His eyes bore into her, unwavering, and she tried to control the ball of heat that burned in her very core. His posture remained the same; the only perceptible change in his demeanor was a tic that pulsed along the line of his clean-shaven jaw.

Maybe it had been a
little
dangerous to prod him like that.

No, it had been utterly stupid to prod him like that. She’d basically put the entire firm on the line.

She held her breath, anxiously awaiting his response.

She didn’t expect him to rise from his desk and half-circle so that he leaned against it, right in front of her. Less than two feet spanned the distance between them, and her pulse throbbed at his nearness.

She swallowed.

“Miss Harlow,” he began softly, “everything you’ve conjured is circumstantial in nature. Surely, you can do better than that? Is this what I’m paying for?”

Despite the warning in his voice that she needed to tread carefully, her temper rose, and she bolted out of her seat, needing equal footing. “You may be paying for my legal services, Mr. Sinclair, but let me make one thing clear. You. Cannot. Buy. Me. I know your game, and I’ve dealt with men like you before. You may be able to throw your money around to get people to do what you want, but I won’t be a part of whatever sick game you’re playing.” Her chest rose with indignation, but she carried on, heedless to the fact that he was slowly inching towards her. She opened her mouth, intent on making sure he understood her, but only a muffled cry escaped her throat.

Firm lips crashed against hers as he wound both hands into her thick hair to hold her in place. The fiery kiss started out as punishing, but she melted further into his embrace as his sensual mouth coaxed hers into submission. His tongue swept into her mouth, teasing little whimpers from her. One hand kept her head in a firm grip as the other urgently trailed down her neck, across the length of her back, until it spanned across her bottom. He used the opportunity to draw her closer, and she moaned when she felt the heat of his erection pressed into her soft stomach.

Whatever angry words she’d been about to spew died a quick death as he drank from her mouth. Giving into the tension that had been building between them for weeks, her body eagerly pressed against his, almost as if she were trying to crawl into him. He kept his mouth connected to hers as he lifted her, turning to deposit her on his desk. His hard body lodged itself between her thighs, and she was helpless to do anything other than wrap her legs around his waist. Thick fingers traced over the soft material of her stockings to the smooth swell of skin on her upper thighs. He pulled aside the silk center of her panties and she cried out against his mouth when he palmed her.

He tore his mouth away from hers, eyes glittering. “Fucking drenched,” he groaned. She panted as his fingers continued to dance between her folds. He pressed his thumb against the soft bundle of skin, and she gasped at the sensation. She was lost, mindless to everything except the spark his touch evoked. Her hands supported her weight as she arched into his embrace. His lips trailed against the curve of her throat, pausing to suck at the delicate skin of her pulse, as he used his other hand to yank her camisole out of her skirt. Impatient, he yanked the material up. His eyes flared with intensity when her breasts were revealed, plump mounds covered by a silky, cream lace. His head descended as he pulled one of the flimsy cups down to sample a hardened peak.

Ragged gasps tore from her throat when the warm heat of his mouth engulfed her nipple. He rolled his warm tongue around it, laving and licking before sucking at the sensitive nub. His fingers delved into her tight warmth, curving up to press against her satiny walls.

He pulled down the material covering her other breast before his mouth latched onto her newly bared nipple. The pressure inside her built to a feverish pitch, the doubled assault on both her nipple and her pussy too much to take. She worked her core against his hand, desperate for release.

Words escaped her mouth, unbidden.

More.

Please.

Yes.

He growled against her skin and intensified his efforts, scissoring his fingers in and out of her as his thumb pressed unrelentingly against her clit. The only sounds in the room were her whispered pleas, his harsh breathing, and the frenzied clicking of the friction of his fingers against the weeping moisture at her opening. She tightened around his fingers and moments later, moisture poured out of her and onto his hands as she erupted in a visceral climax.

The suction on her breast and movement between her legs slowed before coming to a full stop. Breathing heavily, she stared at him in a stunned stupor as he lifted his head and looked straight at her.

As she slowly regained her senses, it dawned on her that she was sprawled out across his desk, with his hand up her skirt and her camisole bunched around the neckline. Despite the intensity of her orgasm, horror and shame slowly filtered in. She was mortified when his eyes glittered into hers, and he finally spoke.

“You’re right. I do go after what I want, and I don’t care if I have to pay for it.” He gripped her hand tightly in his and brought it to his unrelieved erection. “If I wanted to fuck you right now, I could, and you’d let me. But I won’t, because I don’t let my dick rule my business.” He tightened his hand over hers. “This is your
proof
, Counselor Harlow, that you are here purely for professional purposes. If I wanted to track you down to get between your legs, I have no doubt that I could do so without retaining your
services
. Never had to pay for pussy, and I’m not going to start anytime soon.”

He removed his hands from between her legs before striding over to the door. “I have a private bath through that door. You can clean yourself up in there.” His eyes raked over her half-naked form one last time, his expression unreadable. “Next time you want to talk, make sure you can back up what comes out of your mouth.”

With that, he slammed out of his office.

Chapter Ten

He was going to fire Rosie as soon as she returned from her maternity leave.

He’d asked one
simple
request of her before she’d given birth. One teeny tiny little request, which should have been a piece of cake in administrative-assistant land.

Make sure that I am seated nowhere near
that
woman.

Four weeks later,
that
woman was settling herself into the plush leather first class seat on their plane to Hawaii.

Right next to him.

She’d given him a cool look when his startled gaze met hers as they boarded the plane, and he realized they were seated together. It was no different than any of the other indifferent stares she’d thrown in his direction over the last few weeks since the incident in his office.

Despite her seeming apathy, he couldn’t shake the image of her from his head, sprawled sexily all of over his desk. He’d been a bastard to her—driven more out of anger toward himself for losing control. The second he’d left the room, he wanted to turn back and wipe the hurt, confused, wide-eyed stare off of her face.

Of course he’d lied. He’d done everything he possibly could to orchestrate things just so that she’d be forced to be around him.