Off Limits (5 page)

W
arm
, strong hands run down my sides. They skate the curves of my hips, almost but not quite brushing my lower back, then dipping lower to grip my thighs. One hand lifts my leg easily and wraps it around a tight, perfectly sculpted ass.

“Chloe.” Max’s voice is a deep rumble that I can feel thrum through my veins—not least because I’m pressed against his chest, my hands digging into his muscular back, my breasts crushed tight against his hard, bare chest. I drag one hand around to trace his washboard abs—God, he even has that little V where his muscles dip into his waistband. I want to bite my way down that V, yank off his jeans.

He’s way ahead of me, his hands already sliding their way back up my thighs now, beneath my skirt—no, not a skirt, a dress, something loose and flowy, not at all my style. It makes me pause, but only for a second. Because then his hands sear higher along my skin, and his fingers grip my bare ass around the tiny thong I’m wearing, and I forget to worry about anything else.

“I’m going to fuck you.” His breath comes hot in my ear, just before he catches my lobe in his teeth and bites down, hard enough that I can feel it. “Right here. Right now.”

His hand tightens on my ass, and I can’t help myself. A tiny, desperate moan escapes my mouth. Without warning, he grabs my hips and spins me around—I probably leave claw marks on his back as he does it, but then I’m facing away from him, towards my desk, and he’s pushing me across it.

What if someone opens the door?
I think, but I don’t say it out loud. I don’t actually want him to stop.

Fucking hell, I’m so goddamn wet.

He parts my thighs, and I can feel the hard pressure of his cock against my ass as his hands grab at my thong, prying it aside. I’m practically shaking in anticipation now, my hands digging into the edges of the desk, but he’s stopped moving.

“Do it,” I say, then raise my voice louder. “Fuck me.”

He drives into me, and it’s almost more than I can take, a hot, exquisite pressure. He strains at my walls, his cock filling every inch of me, and when he draws back for the next thrust, I gasp in protest at losing that sensation. I don’t have to wait long, though. He slams back into me, and my hips buck into him as we find our rhythm, both of us thrusting hard, crashing together again and again, until I can’t contain myself anymore. A loud cry escapes my lips—

I blink, startled at the sound of my own voice. There’s no desk. No warm body pressed against mine, no cock buried inside me. I’m curled under my silk sheets, in my empty, silent bedroom. The bright red clock on my nightstand blurs as the time shifts.

5:24am.

Shit.

Just a dream.

I catch my breath, and try to ignore the fact that there’s a faint sheen of sweat across my skin, and an ache between my legs, a painful throb of unfulfilled desire.

“You really need to get laid, Chlo,” I mutter to myself in the quiet, dark apartment. It’s been a while since I’ve had any kind of a sex dream, and I’m pretty sure dreaming about the guy I’m currently butting heads with at work is a first for me.

I roll over in bed and yank the pillow over my head, before groaning in frustration into it. This is what happens when you haven’t had sex in . . . well, an embarrassingly long time.

You start to take out your frustration in all the worst possible places.

It was just a dream
, I tell myself as I haul my ass out of bed. No use going back to sleep now, since I’ll only have to wake up again in half an hour. Might as well get an early start.

I have a feeling today is going to be a long day.

* * *

T
he elevator doors
swing open on our floor just as Max and a tall, thin redhead stroll past, coffees in hand. Her teeth catch the fluorescent light and practically glow at me, they're so white, as she tosses her head back to laugh harder than is believable at whatever he just said. Her hand flits to his forearm and squeezes gently as she tapers off the laugh.

“Honestly, I swear that’s how it happened,” he’s saying.

“You are such a
liar
, Max.” The redhead’s shrill voice cuts through the office air.

He stops dead in the middle of the hallway to raise his eyebrows at her, the expression on his face torn between fake offense and a sly grin. “Tell me, is this the face of a dishonest man?”

Yes
, I resist snapping.

“I’ll admit you have the innocent look down pat, lawyer boy,” the woman purrs.

At that moment, Max's eyes flash straight to me, and his expression shifts. Now it seems caught between polite amusement and annoyance. I assume the latter is because I've just burst into the middle of his latest office flirtation.

And yet, my stupid, traitor lizard brain can't stop reliving the dream this morning. His hands tracing over my body, searing hot, and our torsos pressed together, my nails digging into his sculpted back. . .

My cheeks flush, and he lifts an eyebrow. I swallow hard and cross the lobby, trying to pretend that my body has not become suddenly, acutely aware of his every shift, the way his body tracks mine, so he's facing me my whole walk across the entrance. I swear I can
feel
his gaze boring into me, even though I avert my eyes.

"See you in ten, Chloe," he calls, just before I reach the hallway, where I can escape him for a few more minutes before our client arrives.

"Who's that?" I hear the redhead ask, and then I'm thankfully around the corner and away, safely escaped from the thudding of my heart in my chest, the strange nervous sensation firing through my veins.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I
know
what Max Davis is like. Irrefutably. Just look at him out there now, for Christ's sake. Inside my office, I shut the door and take a few deep breaths.

The sight of my desk and the sharp memory of being bent over it in the dream does not help calm me the hell down. I toss my purse on it, grab everything I'll need for this meeting, and leave early for the client interview.

I spent half the night last night rewatching the couple of Suzie Steel workout videos I own. The woman has charisma, I'll give her that. And she definitely motivates me to get off my ass and break a sweat. I can see how she got so famous at what she does.

Still, it's one thing to be familiar with the public personality. It's quite another when, a few minutes later, I'm shaking her hand face-to-face as my assistant escorts her into the conference room I've booked. She's my height, which is funny—in the videos, I always pictured her as taller for some reason.

As I rise, she offers a hand to shake. Her grip is uncomfortably tight as she pumps my arm up and down enthusiastically. "Suzie Steel here, good to meet you, you must be the girl, right, MacIntyre? Good Scottish name, always loved the Scots—nice handshake on you, but grip a little harder, hey?" She squeezes my fingers again in demonstration, and I lose feeling in my pinky.

Hopefully the wince doesn't show on my face. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Steel." It's an even bigger pleasure when she finally lets my hand drop. I try not to gasp too loudly in relief. "I'm a big fan of your work, by the way. Your newest series is the first thing that's managed to get my butt out of bed and moving early in years," I admit with a small smile.

She beams back at me like this is the best news she's ever heard. "So you're familiar with the routine! Do you have Abs and Ass or just One Toned Booty?" she asks, naming her two most recent releases.

Of course, Max chooses that moment to push open the office door. I pray he hasn't caught her last sentence, but given the deeply amused smirk he levels in my direction, I'm pretty sure he did.

"Uh, both," I admit, color flooding my cheeks. Especially when Max nods in agreement over her shoulder, mouthing
One Toned Booty
.

Suzie's 100 megawatt smile, if anything, grows even bigger. "Well great! Let me know what you think, hey? I always love getting feedback from my loyal rubbers—oh, that's what I call you ladies who rub it out with me on the regular," she adds with a wink, while Max attempts not to die of laughter behind her. "And who's this hunk of luscious eye candy?" she says abruptly, turning toward the door when Max emits a soft snort of laughter. "You can't possibly be my other attorney, can you? Davis?"

"The very same," he replies, instantly sobering his expression with the professional speed of a poker player. He shakes the hand she offers, and I garner a small ounce of pleasure in watching his jaw suddenly clench and his eyebrows contract at the force of her grip.

At least I'm not the only one.

"Well isn't this just my lucky day," Suzie drawls in her low, gravelly voice. "Not just a pretty young fan defending me, but a hottie as well." She winks at him, and I enjoy the way his ears turn red at the ends.

So the office manwhore can be embarrassed after all. Who knew?

And yet he plays it off, winking back at her. "Between the two of us, I'd say you're in safe hands," he says. "Though," he adds, cracking his fingers gently once she finally releases him, "I must admit, they may not be as strong as yours."

"I dunno." She lifts her eyebrows at him. "Seems like you've got a pretty tight grip there yourself, mister. Maybe you should give your partner some pointers."

His eyes flash to mine. "I don't think Chloe needs any help in the gripping department."

Suzie smirks, appraising me too. "Fair point. I can see just how
gripping
she is for a guy like you." Suzie flashes him another wink, and his ears do the turning pink thing again.

I shut my eyes for a moment. I can already tell this is going to be a long meeting. "Maybe we should get started," I say as I pull out a chair for Suzie.

"Aw, Davis, your girl here is a shy one." Suzie actually clucks her tongue as she sits down.

"Oh trust me, she's anything but shy," he responds, eyes still fixed on mine. My heart races in my ears as those dark, emerald green eyes reel me in, trap me in place. He’s dressed as formally as ever, in a sharp-cut suit and a perfectly knotted tie, his jawline fresh-shaved, which reveals just how sharply his bones are cut. I want to run my hands over his cheeks, feel those razor-sharp bones myself, then let him trap my mouth with his, wrap his strong hands around my hips. . .

Shit. I rip my gaze free and drop into my seat.

"That's good." Suzie crosses her arms on the table. "I like my litigators aggressive, after all."

"Trust me, Ms. Steel, we're going to do everything in our power to make sure that this company stops trading on your personal reputation," I reply, my game face back on now.

Of course, Suzie immediately flusters me by grinning over her shoulder at Max. "Ooh, I see what you mean. She's feisty when she's in business mode."

The rest of the whole meeting goes like that. Every time I try to rope us on-topic and talk strategy, Suzie finds some way to derail me. Normally by pointing out how feisty I am. Or how chiseled Max is. Her word, not mine.

"I mean it, you should think about modeling on the side," she's telling him as we finally near the end of our preliminary discussions. "You've got the face for it. And, as far as I can tell, the body." Her gaze rakes down his chest in a long, languorous stare.

Even Max squirms a little at her examination, though he keeps his easygoing smirk on his face the whole time. "Well, much as I'm enjoying the ego boost, I don't think I'd have the temperament for it. All that holding a pose in front of a camera?"

"Sounds right up your alley to me," I mutter. "Showing off before legions of fangirls, being the center of attention . . ."

"I don't know about that," Suzie interrupts, and for once this whole meeting, she actually sounds thoughtful. "I think your boy here is less of an attention whore than you give him credit for, Miss MacIntyre."

"Thank you, Ms. Steel." Max flashes her a wink. "It's good to know someone still sees the real me."

"Or is so blinded by the good looks that they can't see an inch past the facade," I counter.

If anything, his smile just widens. "So you admit you find me good-looking."

Suzie leans back in her chair and mimes eating popcorn as she glances back and forth between us.

For my part, I just roll my eyes. "I said nothing of the sort. Now, Ms. Steel, since you didn't file for a trademark when you began using this saying, we'll need to collect evidence that you used it first. Original recordings would be best, something time-stamped ideally, that we could use to prove the date when you first started using the phrases they stole publicly."

"No problem there. I've got hundreds of tapes. Heck, there's some old VHS ones from back when I was first getting started, rehearsal takes and the like, I think. Would those work?"

"That sounds perfect. So we should set up a meeting—”

"You two should come out to my place," she says abruptly. "I'm up by Napa, just a few hours' drive. I've got shelves on shelves of the tapes, and I've still got a VHS player to boot, so it'll be easy to watch them all there."

"Oh." I blink a couple of times, and exchange a glance with Max. Now that I'm thinking about it, I don't actually have any way to play a VHS tape here. I sure as heck don't have one in my apartment, and I doubt there's any in the office supply storage here at work either. Even we moved away from tech quite that old, a long time ago. Max stares back at me and shrugs, probably thinking the same thing. "Well, sure," I start slowly. "Maybe we could drive up for a morning sometime next week and—”