Читать книгу The Dare Collection August 2019 - Christy McKellen - Страница 13

I STAND AS Sue ushers Blair into the smaller of the two boardrooms at the Faulkner offices, the slug of heat her appearance brings surging through my muscles and making me feel taller, as if anything were possible. It’s an amplified version of what seeing her yesterday sparked, which tells me Blair Cameron and I may have unfinished business beyond hotel renovations.

Damn, I hoped I’d be over it today; instead, I note how her green dress accentuates the glow of her skin and brings out the same shade in her eyes. Her hair is down, the tousled swath casually draped over one shoulder, exposing one side of her neck and one earlobe, which is decorated with a dangling pearl.

Why do I have the highly inconvenient urge to suck on that earlobe and tongue the pearl, perhaps undoing the professional and put-together Blair, who I am certain has brought her promised negotiation skills to the table?

Sue leaves us, silently closing the door. I step closer, extend my hand towards my worthy adversary, almost looking forward to our spar.

Blair’s fingers clasp mine, the heat in my palm increasing as if we’re a chemistry experiment, our skin-on-skin combination creating our own energy source. With reluctance I drop her hand and pull out one of the seats around the conference table, more excited than I should be for today’s negotiations.

She could have reacted very differently to last night’s farce in my office, but she managed the whole affair with discretion. Drake and Kit and the lawyers agree—we’re bound by her contract, and her designs, while modest to date, are good. Graham was clearly in sound mind when he contracted Cameron Interiors. I need to find a way to honour both the contract and his wishes, while, of course, getting what I want, too.

And where this woman is concerned, what I want has become somewhat...murky, at least physically. Damn, I almost kissed her yesterday just before we were interrupted by Graham. Her exquisite, previously forbidden closeness, her fiery, take-no-prisoners attitude, her eyes both excited and determined—I couldn’t resist.

Blair Cameron is a potent and tempting package inspiring intrigue, fascination and respect. I tell myself it’s my desire to draw a satisfactory line under this mix-up. I wait for her to settle before removing my suit jacket and sliding into my own seat, at right angles to her, swallowing the surge of lust. The family business comes first, and she’s chosen the wrong challenger if she thinks this is all going her way. The table is long, rectangular, with places for twelve, but at this proximity I can see the flush of her skin, hear the soft intake of her breath and catalogue every nuance of her body language, which speaks for her. She has nowhere to hide—a perfect position of negotiating strength. Nothing to do with how fantastic she smells or how I’m drawn to those sparks of fire in her eyes. No, it makes sense to keep my enemies—or, in her case, someone whose professional motives could be considered ruthless—close. The last time my personal life encroached on the family business, I almost lost everything. And, although it will in no way be a chore, I intend to keep a very close eye on Ms Cameron.

And what of her personal motives? Could she possibly reciprocate my interest...?

She glances around and then pours herself a glass of water from the carafe on the table between us. ‘I thought you were joking about the boardroom.’

‘Why would I joke? I take business very seriously.’ She really doesn’t know me, but that could be rectified.

She nods, shuffling her papers and giving away her nerves. ‘As do I. So let’s discuss that first.’

A surge of blood pounds in my dick at her words. First implies a second... And if not business, then perhaps pleasure.

Blair continues, ‘I have discussed it at length with Graham, and of course I’ve been there many times over the years with my father, but why don’t you tell me about the Faulkner?’

I oblige, certain my patience for the second agenda item will be rewarded. ‘As you know, the Faulkner is our oldest and smallest hotel.’ I recite some basic media-style facts by rote while my mind contemplates how enjoyable it will be to keep a close eye on this intriguing woman. ‘It’s something of an iconic landmark in Chelsea these days, and more than a business, more than a hotel, as I’m sure you understand—I grew up there.’

‘Of course.’ Her smile thuds my heart harder. ‘Graham and I have discussed the hotel’s sentimental value to your family in great detail. He even showed me some old photographs of the place when he first purchased it.’ She pauses, taking a delicate sip of water. ‘My designs are sympathetic to the heritage of the Faulkner. And I only have one major structural renovation to suggest.’

I bristle, feeling my overprotectiveness for my childhood home and concern over the changes my father may or may not have sanctioned rising up. I have no idea what state of mind Graham was in when he contracted Blair, but I know one thing: ‘major’ suggests delay, which means greater costs. The more these renovations are dragged out, the longer the hotel is out of business and the bigger her bill.

The reminder of a time when the roles were reversed, when it was my mistake with Sadie costing the Faulkner Group money, and my father had intervened to financially and emotionally bail me out of my marriage, stiffens my resolve to keep control of every inch of this project. I won’t be hoodwinked again.

‘Which is?’ I swallow bile, wishing I’d been present at the initial discussions. The idea my father might have been vulnerable, made decisions he might not have contemplated a year ago, leaves me jittery with guilt, shrinking my dick quicker than a lapful of ice. Not that Blair necessarily took advantage of Graham, but she must have rejoiced when the call came. Renovating a Faulkner hotel is a major coup for anyone, least of all a small company.

‘I plan to knock down the south wall behind the current reception desk in the foyer.’

I hold in my splutter of outrage and offer a cool stare, so she continues with her justification.

‘There’s just dead space behind—a cloakroom and storage room. And without that wall you’ll achieve so much more natural light into an area that’s a little gloomy, currently.’

‘Hmm, I’m not sure I like the sound of that.’

Over my dead body springs to mind, but I’m the first to admit my knee-jerk reaction is all about preserving the hotel’s heritage and looking out for my father.

She raises her eyebrows, a confident smile tugging at her pink-glossed lips. ‘Trust me—I know what I’m talking about; you’ll love the results, and opening up that space will improve the options for the foyer. You can have a separate concierge desk and a seating area.’ She’s showing her passion again, her excitement, or perhaps it’s the ruthless streak that she might have the upper hand causing the sparkle in her eyes.

I rub my chin, drawn to every move she makes, my mind returning to the reel of fantasies I’ve had about Blair Cameron in the past eighteen hours. The idea of her in control is not an unwelcome image. That hair wild as she rides me, and those shapely legs gripping my waist, while I explore the sensitivity of those nipples I see peeking through the fabric of her dress. I spread my thighs a fraction under the table to accommodate the burgeoning tightness in my trousers.

Blair pulls out her tablet once more and slides it over the table. ‘Take a look at the concept plans—try to visualise the end result.’

I glance at the images on the screen, still unconvinced.

My reticence wobbles her confident spiel, but she rallies. ‘If it’s the guest bookings that are concerning you, we can minimise delays by staging the renovations—close off one floor at a time to redecorate the guest rooms and then finish with the ground floor and the communal areas. Surely you can accommodate the minimal disruption by housing guests at your other hotels?’

She’s determined to make this work. ‘Searching for wiggle room to satisfy us both?’ I say, my respect for her persistence and flexibility growing.

She flushes as though I’ve hit a nerve, leaving me curious about what exactly is running through her mind and if it in any way correlates to the pleasurable distractions in mine.

‘It makes good business sense that we’re both happy—repeat work from satisfied clients forms a large part of my business, so I would, of course, aim to give you everything you want.’

Her words, and the double meaning my brain interprets, make my blood pound harder.

‘Ruthless and accommodating—admirable.’ My smile seems to bring a delightful flush to her skin, but the bitter tang in my mouth reminds me that I’ve fallen prey to such ruthlessness before—never again, no matter how appealing the package. And ensuring Dad hasn’t fallen prey to Blair’s charms, her radical changes, will be my top priority going forward, no matter how good her designs.

‘Yes...’ she says, ‘well...running my own business has taught me it’s the only way to stop unscrupulous people taking advantage.’ Her stare dips to the table. Perhaps because she’s just intimated I’m unscrupulous and not to be trusted. If only she knew the lack of trust is totally reciprocated.

‘Well, ruthlessness in a business setting is a worthy skill. One we share.’ Best she understands from the start I’m not simply going to roll over because she waves her contract or cites our family connections. My suspicious mind hasn’t abandoned all its wild theories—she could have cornered Graham at the golf club, played on his confusion, and now she’s here to pick over the bones, for all I know. Perhaps she plans to sabotage her father’s main competition by painting my beloved hotel lime green...

My lips twitch at that last absurd thought. That’s never going to happen.

‘Oh, I fully intend to extend the ruthlessness you admire to all areas of my life, believe me.’ Her lips part, dragging my attention south.

Fuck. Is she flirting? And how can I have the best of both worlds here—the Faulkner safe and sound and under my strict control, and this woman temporarily in my bed? My attraction to her could become a distraction I don’t need. Better to dispense with the inconvenience and focus on Dad and the renovations he’s set in motion.

‘But that falls outside the realms of this discussion,’ she says.

I check the grudging respect for her building inside, quashing it back down. Blair Cameron may look like a strong wind could topple her from those heels, but there’s steel running through her skeleton. Steel and ambition and fucking sexy spunk.

‘Why don’t you amend the contract to say the renovations will be staged so we can close the Faulkner to guests for the bare minimum of time?’ she says.

I slide a file her way. ‘I’ve already thought of that—the newly amended contract.’ I lean back, a slug of satisfaction stretching my lips into a small smile, while I wait for the counter-proposal I know is coming. She’s too smart, too driven to allow me off the hook so easily—after all, she has the upper hand legally, although she showed she can compromise too when she handled Graham’s mistaken identity so thoughtfully.

‘Great.’ She eyes the paperwork and then looks up.

I relax into the leather, getting comfortable, and allow my stare to wander. That she isn’t a pushover sharpens my focus, so I notice a freckle in the hollow at the base of her throat and find new colours hiding in her irises. I’m not expecting her question or the sharp change in direction.

‘Is Graham still under the impression I’m his soon-to-be daughter-in-law?’ She too relaxes back in the chair, as if all business deals conclude in this personal way.

The hair at the nape of my neck stands to attention. ‘I don’t see how what happened yesterday is relevant.’ I’m not exposing my father to curiosity or gossip, or even to her well-meaning pity.

‘You asked me to lie, to play along—that’s how it’s relevant.’ Her index fingernail taps the table and she glances down, stilling the movement. ‘I know you and I aren’t close...’ her eyes bounce back to mine ‘...but neither am I a complete stranger.’

I suck in a breath through my teeth, mentally conceding her point even as I try to wriggle free. I did ask her to play along with Dad’s misunderstanding. My father’s presence in my office when he should have been at his club gave me enough of a shock, without the added double whammy of him mistaking Blair for Sadie, back when we’d first been engaged. I was reeling.

‘No, perhaps our age difference is the reason we don’t know each other well. You’re young, in fact, to be running your own business, one of the reasons I was slightly bemused by your appointment.’

Her lush lips thin as if I’ve touched a nerve. ‘I assure you I’m capable—Graham, for one, believes in me, and I respect him too,’ she says, holding my eye contact. ‘He’s always been kind to me, made time for me, and I’d like to know how to respond when I see him again. I don’t think that’s unreasonable. In fact, I insist,’ she says, putting me in my place once more.

Could she be any more fascinating?

I conceal my own uncertainty behind a shrug. I wish I had the answers she requires. But she’s right—I have to give her something. ‘He’s...intermittently slightly confused and currently undergoing investigations.’ I tap the table, my eyes narrowing. ‘I’m afraid I can’t give you any reassurances beyond that. So I understand if you prefer to walk away now.’ Will she take the money and run? Will that be an end to this? ‘My offer of financial recompense for the time you’ve already invested, of course, stands.’

She shakes her head before I’ve even registered the hollow pang that tells me a part of me wants to work with her on this project. Her insistence should ease my suspicions that she’s in this for monetary gain. All my preconceived ideas about her, admittedly tainted by my past experiences with Sadie, were all rattled last night when she turned down my offer of financial compensation, and when she played along for the sake of my confused father. And now this morning, despite sticking to her guns, she’s amenable and conciliatory, demanding further respect from me where she could have just clung to her bottom line.

My hands tense on the arms of the chair. But all I have to do is keep a close eye on her professionally—I don’t have to trust her to enjoy her body.

‘I’m happy to sign this revised contract.’ She slides the folder closer, lining it up parallel to the edge of the table before relaxing her hands on either side on the polished oak.

I breathe a sigh of relief. ‘Great. Then our business is concluded.’ This couldn’t go better from my point of view. Not only do I have a revised contract, but I’ve also cited myself as overseer to the work. She won’t be able to change a light bulb without my prior approval.

‘Perhaps.’ Her eyes settle on mine, the rise and fall of her chest telling me I’m in no way imagining her sexual interest. I’m certain we want the same thing. And by the way this satisfactory negotiation has panned out, we could have what we want.

I incline my head, gracious in victory.

‘Will I be required to act as if I’m... Sa...your ex again?’

Damn. How the hell am I supposed to answer that? I have no idea how my father will react from one day to the next. The doctors tell me a routine and a calm environment is the best medicine, but until I have that second opinion the last thing I want to do is upset Graham further, which is why I went along with the case of mistaken identity.

‘Would that be so terrible?’ I say. ‘You handled it perfectly last night—something I’m very grateful for, by the way.’

I sense her hesitation, although she’s doing a valiant job of trying to conceal it.

I add a layer of inducement. ‘Now we’ve agreed on the specifics of the contract, if there’s anything else I can do for you in return, just let me know.’ Everyone wants something. What does Blair Cameron want if it isn’t to sabotage my hotel?

She nods, looks away and then turns back to face me with new resolve and a flash of excitement shining in her eyes. ‘Actually, I do.’

Well, this should be interesting. I smile, heat building in my chest with excitement for the demands she’s about to make.

‘Now I’m intrigued. Go on.’ My stare zeroes in on her full mouth, a mouth I’d like to feel on mine. The fire is there between us, a smoulder of embers waiting to be fanned to a blaze.

‘I’m willing to...play along should the need arise. I wouldn’t want to embarrass Graham or make things worse for him.’ Her eyes harden. ‘I prefer not to deceive him, believe me, but you’ve already put me in a difficult position.’

‘So what do you want?’

She pushes her hair back from her face. ‘If my work on the Faulkner meets your approval, you’ll write me a client testimonial I can use however I see fit.’

‘That’s easy enough.’ I’m failing to see where the rub is for me—she’s agreed to all my terms, above and beyond. ‘A glowing recommendation is something I’d do for any worthy contractor.’ I’m sensing there’s more. The second item, perhaps. ‘What else do you want?’ Everyone has a price, but can I afford hers? I hold myself still, certain her next demand will cost me one way or the other.

She hesitates, her lip caught under her top teeth, ‘I—it’s a little...unprofessional. Perhaps we should discuss it after hours.’

‘Now works just fine for me.’ I wait, curiosity a persistent drum sounding in my head. ‘Tell me, Blair.’

My hushed command does the trick in loosening her tongue.

‘Do you...find me attractive?’ she asks with a tilt of her chin.

I conceal my astonished reaction. ‘Attractive?’ My blood roars. Sexy as fuck, more like. Fascinating, whip-smart and ballsy. What is there to doubt?

She nods. ‘I could be wrong...about our...chemistry.’ Her eyes dip to the tabletop for a fraction but then they’re back, bolder than before.

I lean forward, place my arms on the table, my hands clasped together to stop myself reaching out and touching the strand of hair that has fallen over her cheek.

‘You’re not wrong. I’ve always thought you’re a beautiful woman.’ The heat in my chest slides below the belt. This is so inconvenient, but now she’s verbalised what I hoped to hear, I’m done for.

The breath she’s holding shudders out of her, the flutter of the pulse in her neck, the increased heat from her body, the subtle shift of her crossed legs all indicating she’s as turned on as me.

‘Ask your favour.’ My patience snaps. The sparks in her eyes deliver fresh blood to my groin. I’m either going to love what comes next out of those delicious lips, or my instincts are decidedly off...

‘Well... I used to have something of a teenage crush on you.’ She laughs then, despite the heightened colour in her cheeks. It’s a delightful sound—a little throaty, almost dirty and so unexpected I laugh too. I didn’t know about the crush. Yes, I recall for a while in my late twenties she blushed every time we crossed paths—which wasn’t that often—but I figured it was an awkward phase. A teenager thing.

Then I quirk one eyebrow, waiting while this new piece of information floods my body with testosterone. ‘Tell me what you want from me.’ If it’s what I’m thinking the answer is hell, yes. The fact that she knows what she wants and is negotiating it into our terms is the biggest turn-on so far. She’s accruing quite a list of attributes.

But surely it can’t be the same thing I want. The thing I’ve wanted since she looked up at me in the Faulkner Group waiting area with a flash of recognition and something else. Something bold and demanding, as ruthless as any business stipulation. Now I want to hear those other demands, hear confirmation from her sensual mouth.

She picks at a speck on her dress, something so minute it’s invisible. ‘I’m correct in thinking you’re single, right?’

I nod, watching her with renewed fanaticism. ‘I’ve done the marriage thing—now I only do casual.’ I incline my head, waiting while my heart hammers—I’ve never been propositioned like this before and to say I like it would be an understatement.

I lean a fraction closer and toss her a lifeline. ‘We might be on the same page here.’

She nods, as if she’s worked that out long before me. ‘I’d like to propose a second contract. Just a verbal one will do.’ Her eyes shine as she taps the paperwork on the table. ‘Separate to the business one so no lines are blurred.’

‘Why?’ My interest peaks with the strengthening urge to taste her delicious-looking mouth.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Why do we need a second contract?’ I know enough about her by now to know she won’t fluster and dither at my direct question, but I need to know we’re negotiating the same thing.

Her response blows me away.

‘Because I have fantasies about you I’d like to play out.’ Her voice is breathy now, and I not only know how driven and ambitious she is, but also how she sounds when she’s turned on.

Before I can speak she continues the aural torture.

‘If we’re working closely together, something is going to happen sooner or later, and I prefer to keep sex separate from our working relationship. I don’t want anything to interfere with the Faulkner renovations. Call it a no-strings arrangement if you like.’

I shift in my seat, arousal for once in what feels like a lifetime surpassing my need to control every aspect of my life and my business. Then I recall why we’re here and what happened the last time I allowed my personal life—Sadie—to interfere with my family business. ‘I don’t often mix business with pleasure, and I’m usually the person in the driving seat when I do.’

I don’t want her having any unrealistic expectations. Anything between us will be finite.

She holds my stare, lips parted and breaths shallow. ‘That’s why we need the second contract. And you can be in the driving seat.’

I swallow hard—she’s incredible. Bold. Confronting. Captivating.

‘Oh, I know I can.’ I don’t need her permission. ‘If you want this, we do it my way.’

My mind helpfully provides a series of erotic images. The idea of making this woman’s fantasies come true turns me to granite, so I have to spread my thighs under the table. My mind trips over itself. How will this even work? She’s correct—it’s borderline unprofessional, not to mention the age gap. Fuck, who cares? If she doesn’t, I don’t. And we’re consenting adults. It’s just sex. I can keep emotions off the cards, just as I have since Sadie, so there’s no chance of me being sucked in again.

She licks her lips, perhaps an unconscious gesture...one that has a predictable effect on my body. I grit my teeth and then relax my jaw so I can speak. The sooner we’re done negotiating, the sooner we can put our verbal contract into practice. ‘Tell me what you want this second contract to include.’

She speaks without pause, telling me she’s played this conversation over in her head prior to this meeting. ‘One,’ she counts on her fingers. ‘No-strings sex. Two—it doesn’t interfere with my work on the Faulkner.’

My pulse thunders in my head. I shrug, keeping my body relaxed. ‘No feelings, no strings, just sex—easy.’

But she hasn’t finished.

‘Three—we work through my fantasies, but I’m open to any you might have.’

Fuck me! She could actually bring me to my knees... I arch my brow, fighting hard to maintain a neutral facial expression when all I want to do is sweep the conference table clear and spread her out. ‘Anything else?’

She shrugs. ‘I think that covers it.’ She sucks in a big breath, trying to conceal the move. Her eyes dart, telling me she hasn’t thought this through that far or she’s hoping I’ll simply take the lead. And I will.

Oh, we’re going to have some fun.

‘Up to the task?’ she asks, eyes heavy with want.

Hell, yes. Is there a better way to keep a close eye on what Blair Cameron does to my hotel and exploit this unexpectedly fierce chemistry?

‘I have no problem with the arrangement as laid out in this verbal contract.’ I sound as if I’m dictating a memo, not discussing how to satisfy Blair Cameron’s fantasies. ‘You tell me about these fantasies and leave the rest to me.’

Her lips purse as if she’s about to argue, even as her chest flushes with arousal.

I add another layer of incentive. ‘I promise you’ll benefit.’

‘I will?’ she asks, her tongue darting out to moisten her lip.

I nod, dropping my voice. ‘Expect to come a lot.’ I look up from her mouth to catch the flare of her pupils. ‘Expect my very enthusiastic and frequent attention. Expect to have all your fantasies fulfilled.’

She smiles as though we’re discussing paint colours or upholstery fabric, not how I’m going to give her so many orgasms she won’t be able to walk on the heels she seems to love.

‘Deal.’ She holds out her hand, the fine tremor in her fingers almost invisible. ‘Shall we shake on it?’

I take her hand and try not to smile when I hear the tiny catch in her throat as our palms connect. Before she can disengage from the most rewarding and electrifying handshake I’ve had in many years, I add another suggestion. I can’t help myself. Blair Cameron is just too much—too tempting, too sexy and too much woman.

‘I have a better idea.’ I grip her hand a fraction tighter, allowing my fingertips to dance on her delicate inner wrist, because, now I’ve touched her with something beyond the professional, I want more. I want all of her. ‘Tell me about one of these fantasies.’

My hard-on tents the front of my trousers underneath the table.

Her eyes widen as her hand slips from mine, and she sucks in a small, excited gasp that shoots straight to my balls. ‘Now? Here?’ She glances at the closed door, stands and smooths her palms down her thighs as if she’s contemplating fleeing. But not Blair, although she must have guessed I’d be burning with curiosity to hear about these fantasies.

I nod, slowly, so she gets the message while my mind leafs through all the delicious possibilities. I swivel my chair, keeping my thighs spread so she can see the effect her particular negotiating skills have on me from her standing position. I give her a beat or two to take in the bulge I can’t conceal, then I stand too, moving close so she has to look up if she wants to maintain her bold, almost challenging eye contact.

I’m close enough to kiss her, but I draw out the anticipation, even though I can’t seem to stop looking at her mouth.

‘I’d like to hear them all, but start with the first one you can remember.’ My blood simmers. This verbal foreplay is not something I would usually indulge in at the office, but she’s irresistible. She’s thrown me completely with her bold request, and I’m not one to be outdone.

Her colour darkens, and I inch closer until her nipples brush my chest as she sucks in another shaky breath.

I tuck the strand of hair I’ve been longing to touch over her shoulder, loving the shudder that seems to rattle her entire frame as she inhales. ‘Come on, Blair. Let’s hear it.’

The minute lift of her chin, her go-to move of bravery, heralds her final act of surrender.

‘I... I used to touch myself and think about you.’ Her confession is accompanied by a breathy sigh, which takes my body from keen to barely restrained. My fingers twitch to get hold of her sensational body, to touch every inch, taste her all over and hear her moans of pleasure.

‘How old were you?’ I’m almost scared to ask.

She shrugs. ‘Seventeen...eighteen.’

Fuck. I couldn’t even think of that then, but I can sure as shit do more than think about it today.

I nod, arch my brow, enjoy the gust of her warm breath on my lips. ‘Show me.’

Her eyes go wide.

My pulse pounds through my head, driving me. ‘Go on.’ Excitement crackles between us like static electricity. ‘See what happens.’

She flushes, her gaze once more drifting to the door. ‘Now? I don’t think I can, not here.’

Oh, no, this isn’t the woman who’s just negotiated a sexual dalliance between us as successfully as she’s manoeuvred her company into a lucrative deal. This contradictory coyness won’t do in light of what she’s just told me. I want everything. Now.

I lean close, dip my head so my breath snakes over her exposed earlobe and her shudder wafts the scent of her hair over me.

‘Liar,’ I whisper, fighting the need to taste the skin of her neck.

She sways closer and I ease back, a tease, keeping my distance, torturing us both. For now. But the struggle is real, the deep and relentless need catching me off guard.

I continue in the same husky voice, ‘It’s your call, of course.’

She’s panting now, her breath brushing my lips, and it takes every scrap of control I possess not to kiss her. But not yet. She’s set a challenge, one my libido is raring to meet.

And I want to hear every detail of these fantasies. I want to know how her inventive and open mind works, especially the part that not only conjured up fantasies about me, but also had the mettle to proposition me in the Faulkner boardroom.

‘Tell me.’ I allow my hushed words to bathe the space between our mouths. ‘Would you be in the bath or in your bed? Would I walk in and catch you with your hand down the front of your underwear? Would you stop touching yourself, or continue knowing I couldn’t look away?’

Excitement sparks in her eyes. The space between her body and mine floods with pheromones, the air temperature rising and generating enough electrical activity to start a thunderstorm.

‘Go on,’ I taunt. ‘Let me watch you now.’

She reaches for my forearms with both hands, as if she needs me to balance. But the look she raises to mine is pure challenge. She may have hesitated out of a sense of professionalism, but I can tell there’s no way she’ll allow me to wrestle control of her fantasy from her, and I’m happy to concede for the reward of watching this fascinating and beautiful woman claim her pleasure.

‘Okay.’ Her voice is husky with need or nerves, but she drops one hand to her side and slips it under the hem of her dress.

Triumph flares in my chest even as my knees weaken—she’s astounding. Brave and determined and capable of anything. And fuck me if the fact she knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to chase it isn’t the biggest turn-on so far.

She drags in a shaky breath, her whole body trembling with its force. I look down to see her dress hitched up and her hand buried between her legs, but sheltered from my view by the bunched-up fabric.

I swallow hard. She’s a dream. A siren. A goddess sent to test me.

I call on every scrap of strength I possess not to touch her, and force my voice to continue in the same low tone. ‘What would you have done if I’d caught you touching yourself? What would you have said?’

She looks up with the need which is mirrored in me burning in her beautiful eyes. ‘Kiss me.’

It’s what I want to hear, the exact invitation I need.

I cup her face, holding her stare and tilting her head to the desired angle, but taking my sweet time even though I want to taste the lush lips only millimetres from mine with a ferocity I’m struggling to control.

‘Just so you know, I’ve wanted to kiss you since I walked into the waiting area and saw you yesterday.’ I give her no time to absorb my words, her tiny gasp signal enough that she’s registered them. I slide my mouth over her parted lips and drag her body to mine so every soft inch of her is pressed up against the hardness she inspires.

One swipe, two, three... Who’s counting?

She parts her lips further, accepting the push of my tongue inside. My fingers tangle in that swath of blonde silk and she whimpers under me, her whole body slack and her eyes, which have remained open throughout, glazing over.

I pull back, foolishly thinking I’m done with the kiss, only to tilt my head sideways and enjoy it from the opposite angle—an experience that’s as good as the first time, because now she’s practically writhing all over me and clutching at my hair with her free hand as she kisses me back.

Just one more taste. Just one more minute, then I’ll put a stop to this and walk away.

Energy pours through me, electrifying every cell in my body. The reality of Blair Cameron has blown my mind. This room has never hosted such agreeable negotiations. I feel a new shiny brass plaque is in order to commemorate the great contract agreement of the Faulkner Group and Cameron Interiors.

But I want more now I’ve had one taste. I can’t help myself. Knowing she’s still touching herself under that dress, thinking of me, wanting me, recalling fantasies of me...

We part, panting and gasping.

‘As good as you fantasised?’ My voice is gruff. I’m at the office. It’s before ten in the morning and all I can think about is laying her back on the oak conference table for a look under this dress.

Her mouth is swollen and I touch her lips, wiping the moisture from them with the pads of my fingers. They’re smooth, red, a sexy haven I want to see slack with ecstasy, gasping my name and wrapped around my dick.

She nods, her head shaky, but then, in a bold move I should have expected, she sucks the pad of my index finger into her mouth and swivels her hips so her belly crushes my erection between us. ‘Then I would have asked you to touch me.’

The groan in my head abolishes any reservation and spurs me on.

Her lips return to mine, her kiss sexy and bold, slaying me.

In one move I hoist her up and deposit her on the table, stepping into the space she creates for me by spreading her thighs. She doesn’t care that she’s creased her dress by bunching it up her bare, toned legs. She doesn’t care that we could be disturbed at any minute. My own workplace principles are shot to hell by the heat coming from between her legs as I wedge myself closer. I can’t get close enough.

I kiss her again, this time hissing at the ferocity with which she twists my hair. But revenge tastes as sweet as her mouth when I slide my hand up one thigh, my fingers joining hers tangling in the shoved-aside crotch of her damp underwear and her soft, slick centre.

This is madness. What the hell is she doing to me? Any minute now I’ll come to my senses and stop.

She bucks against my hand, her fingers and mine sliding together to rub all the right places, and I wedge my hips closer to stop her slipping from the edge of the table. Then she snatches her own hand away so she can brace her arms behind her on the table.

‘Yes,’ she hisses around our kiss. ‘Oh... Reid!’

My fingers glide over her swollen clit. A triumphant growl resonates past my tight throat. I pull away from her mouth to watch her pleasure streak across her beautiful face as I work the bundle of nerves. ‘This is what you used to think about?’

She nods as I glance down to where all that deliciousness is exposed for my eyes only. I enjoy the view of my fingers working her, loving her gasp when I push one finger inside her and continue to circle her clit with my thumb.

‘Yes...and I thought about you last night while I made myself come with my vibrator.’ Her hips undulate in time with the rhythm of my plunging finger.

Fuck. I’m toast. This woman is almost too hot for me to handle. ‘Oh, I’m going to want to see that some time.’ I reward her with a second finger and revel in the cry snatched from her throat.

Her head falls back and I scrape my lips along the column of her neck, sucking in the essence of her soft skin. ‘So you came to my office this morning with this very intention. Hoping to get what you wanted, to get me hard and get yourself off.’

‘Yes. Oh...yes.’ Her honesty slays me, her willingness to boldly and ruthlessly claim what she wants weakening my knees so I need to spread my feet wider to support her on the table’s edge.

‘Tell me you want to get off here, now, in my boardroom, where anyone could find us.’ I tongue her earlobe, flicking at the dangling pearl.

Her hips gyrate faster and she grips fistfuls of my shirt so tightly, I wonder if I’ll need to explain the missing buttons.

‘I want to get off.’ Her huge eyes are dark with arousal, clinging to mine. Begging. ‘It’s been so long.’ She gasps. ‘Reid, make me come.’

Fuck, she’s magnificent. I can’t stop now. I want to worship her, to witness her orgasm and how it undoes her put-together appearance. I want her as frantic and desperate as she’s made me. And more than that, I want to fulfil her fantasy.

‘Every time I have a meeting in here, I’m going to think of you, sexy as fuck on my conference table, taking what you want, your sexy mouth demanding an orgasm. No deal, no meeting will ever be the same. Understand?’

She whimpers, dragging my mouth back to hers with desperate tugs around my neck and shoulders. I kiss her and talk around our kisses, although her mouth is so wild, it’s a struggle to get coherent words out. But my mouth runs away with itself, perhaps encouraged by the new deal we’ve struck. I can’t seem to shut up.

‘Next time you wear a dress, I want you to forget the underwear. I want to know that, if you’re horny, there’s nothing to get in my way. Nothing to stop me going down on you and tasting all this delicious sweetness between your legs.’ I twist my wrist, scissoring my fingers and pressing down on her clit with my thumb.

She’s there. With a sexy moan she throws her head back and comes, her tight muscles gripping my fingers while she rides my hand through the body-racking tremors. I kiss her through her climax, swallowing up her cries, each one a bolt of victory through my chest.

Spent, she collapses forward, her head heavy on my shoulder as her breathing settles. And then she looks up, vulnerable and breath-stealing and more beautiful than I’ve ever seen her.

I take my hand from between her legs, not ready to let her go just yet. I scoop my other arm around her waist, tugging her closer so we’re nose-to-nose and I’m still sandwiched between her glorious thighs, what she does to me evident in my strung-taut body and my steel-hard dick. Stringing out the fantasy with my own erotic twist, I raise one wet finger to her mouth and trace her full bottom lip with her own desire. Her warm breath gusts over my fingertip and renewed excitement flashes in her eyes.

‘Taste yourself.’ My command, whisper-soft, murmured against her swollen lips makes her eyes widen.

She obeys, her tongue tracing where my finger has been. This time I trace her top lip and then I kiss her, every sense full of her—her scent, the vision of her flushed from her orgasm and the taste of her. All of her.

‘Mmm...delicious...’ I say around our kiss. ‘I can’t wait for more.’ Then I step away and adjust myself, my own breathing ragged as I get myself back under control. If I don’t stop there, we’re at serious risk of being caught full-out fucking in the Faulkner Group’s boardroom.

She frowns as I shrug into my suit jacket.

‘What about you?’ Her voice croaks as she slips from the table and pushes down her dress before loosely finger-combing her hair to conceal what has just taken place.

‘I have a ten o’clock meeting.’ Regret makes my voice a little gruff. I scoop up the signed paperwork and straighten my tie for something to do with my hands besides touch. She’s way too tempting. And now I’ve had a brief taste...the roar in my head tells me how close I am to taking more. Taking everything. Blair Cameron could become an overwhelming addiction without careful management.

‘Okay.’ She turns away from me, head down, and busies herself with her bag.

Oh, no. She wants to live out her fantasies. Well, my first tactic is anticipation. Sure, I could clear my diary, take her home right now. That’s what my body screams at me to do. But by the next time I touch her we’ll both be so primed...the reward will multiply exponentially.

I press up behind her once more, reminding her with the prod of my erection in the small of her back that, sadly, it’s business as usual. The scent of sex and coconut shampoo lingers as I nuzzle her hair, seeking her soft, silky earlobe and the delicate pearl, which I tug between my lips. ‘Are you free for dinner tonight?’

She gasps, melts back into me and then corrects herself, standing tall as she nods.

I allow my lips to linger, just below her ear—a sensitive spot if the trembles jolting her shoulders are any indication. ‘I’ll call you later. Have a good day, Blair.’

Her head snaps around, her eyes teetering on the edge of a glare. I wink and she smiles. How could she not? I’m pretty certain I just rocked her world. Her legs are obviously still a little unstable, because she’s swaying on those heels she favours.

I leave the room, leave her to compose herself, while I ignore the wants of my own body and get back to my day. Who knew this deal would become so...rewarding?

I temper my wide grin. No one likes a smug bastard.