Читать книгу One Night Only / No Strings - J.C. Harroway - Страница 13
ОглавлениеESSIE SPENT THE rest of the day holed up in Ben’s office answering phone calls, sending emails and hiding from Ash. For all her bravado, her encounter had left her shaken to the core. Not because his confirmation there would be no more sex in their future left her reliving their one night together, over and over until her erogenous zones ached and clamoured for a rerun, but because, burning with righteous indignation, she’d rashly clicked publish on that morning’s blog post, retitling it The OMG Pros and One-Night Cons of Casual Sex, while still reeling from their verbal and sexually charged spat. And now her tongue-in-cheek cautionary tale of her first one-night stand winged its way through cyberspace to land in the inboxes of the thousands-strong audience her relationship blog attracted.
Stupid.
Reckless.
But providing a belly-warming kick of satisfaction.
Her small, naughty smile turned into a lip nibble.
Thinking about her blog should have brought her a sense of pride. Her usual posts were heavily theoretical and science based, calling on the latest psychological research on relationships, love and the complexities of all forms of human interaction.
But crammed full of shame, betrayal and an overwhelming head spin of good sex hormones, she’d thrown caution to the wind and edited her earlier draft with personal details of her explosive but reckless night with Ash, detailing a pared-down version of the sheet-clawing sexploits and their disastrous morning-after fallout as reasons for prudence.
She’d kept it totally anonymous, only referring to Ash as Illegally Hot, but she shouldn’t have mentioned him at all. She was a professional with a serious academic reputation to consider, not some kiss-and-tell reality blogger.
Her belly twisted even as her breathing accelerated, a sickening swirl of opposing emotions. The added personal anecdotes afforded her writing an air of authority she’d never before believed she possessed. As if, overnight, she’d become a true expert, at least on her chosen topic.
Heady stuff.
She grinned, dragging her lip back under her teeth as the first comment came in, lighting up her phone with a ping.
Well, BatS*#tCrazy liked it. They’d even asked where they could find Illegally Hot...
Bugger—it was too late now for regrets.
She slammed her laptop shut with screen-cracking force. Ash didn’t strike her as an avid pop psychology reader—he’d never know.
As the triumphant head rush dwindled, the lip-gnawing insecurity returned, full-blown. She’d begun her blog, Relationships and Other Science Experiments, as a first-year psychology undergraduate. Still struggling with the knowledge of her father’s betrayal, emotionally and geographically isolated from a half-brother she’d never met and angry with her father’s desertion and the lies he’d spun to cover it up, she’d taken to putting her own complex and often overwhelming feelings and thoughts into a sort of online diary. Shortly after, she’d made the mistake of falling in what she’d assumed was love. Two tumultuous years later, the ex she’d pinned all her happily-ever-afters on had left her with her self-esteem in tatters, and her heart seriously doubtful that honest, dependable men—let alone love—actually existed.
Around the same time, she’d fallen in academic love with social psychology and her fascination with the intricacies of human relationships began, guiding both her writing and her choice of PhD study.
Initially, she’d been amazed to acquire a handful of keen followers who had warmed to her quirky, often humorous take on the complexities of interpersonal dealings. No subject was taboo. From the rude man on the Tube to the day-to-day social minefield of undergraduate life, she tackled the full gamut of complex interactions humans faced and presented the science behind them.
And now she had a whole heap more fodder for her writing in the guise of her sexy but arrogant boss, her one night of orgasmic bliss and the awkward, self-inflicted quagmire her temporary job had become.
Essie reopened her laptop, determined to end the day leaving no stone unturned when it came to her responsibilities towards Ben. With tomorrow’s to-do list stuck on a virtual sticky note on her desktop, she performed one last check of her emails before heading home.
There was one from Ben’s interior designer and another from his PA, asking for her bank account details for payroll. But it was the one from her brother, entitled A Favour, that she pounced upon.
Essie
I left some documents in the safe for Ash to sign. I can’t get hold of him—suspect he’s still jet-lagged and has fallen asleep. Can you please take them around to him and then scan the signatures through to the bank before six p.m.?
PS A spare set of keys to Ash’s apartment is also in the safe, in case he’s out of it and doesn’t hear you knock.
A combination number and address accompanied the request.
Essie dropped her head into her hands, tempted to headbutt the laptop screen and pretend she hadn’t read the urgent missive. The last thing she wanted was any further interaction with Ash after last night’s reckless abandon and today’s humiliating reunion.
Didn’t billionaires have teams of lackeys traipsing after them, doffing their caps and facilitating their masters’ every whim? Why her?
But Ben would be in the air by now en route to New York. There was no escape. If she kept her head, kept her focus on the goal and not the infuriating, sexy-as-fuck Ash...her mission couldn’t fail.
Get in. Don’t have sex with him.
Acquire a signature. Don’t have sex with him.
Get out. Don’t have sex with him.
Simple.
* * *
Ash closed his eyes, braced his palms flat on the tile and let the steaming water pound down on his head. Perhaps it would rattle some fucking sense into his brain.
Stupid. Impulsive. Fantastic sex.
He curled one hand into a fist, knuckles bloodless.
He’d moved to London to claw back control of the wrong turn his life had taken, not to embroil himself in another personal shit storm of epic proportions. While he licked his wounds and disentangled his suddenly public personal life, he’d hoped to forge a new path away from Jacob Holdings. A fresh start. Something of his own, untainted by his father.
Sleeping with the intriguing and exotic stranger he’d met in the park had been beyond reckless. He should have vetted her beyond her flirtatious smiles, her sexy laugh and her astounding body. But he’d been charmed by her bubbly, ingenuous personality, so unlike the somewhat cynical sophisticates he normally bedded.
Cynical like him.
And she’d upped the intrigue factor with her hesitant confession of her relative inexperience.
Fuck.
Ash dumped a palmful of shampoo onto his head. But knowing exactly who she was only threw up more questions. If Essie lived in London, why the hell did she need a picture of one of its iconic landmarks? If she had a degree and a PhD, why was bar work so appealing? And what was the deal with her and Ben?
He scrubbed at his scalp, nails punishing. Now, not only did he have to work with her—fucking eyeball-scalding torture right there—but he also had to watch her prance her sexy ass around his club covered in those flirty little dresses she liked to wear, all the while keeping his libido under control and his hands to his damned self.
Screwed.
He rinsed his hair, welcoming the sting as the suds ran into his eyes.
Not that he’d known it at the time, but sleeping with Essie had broken one of his life’s cardinal, cast-iron, unbreakable rules: Never screw a mate’s sister—the golden bro code every decent male lived by.
And he was decent. He didn’t use people. He didn’t cheat. And he considered the consequences of his actions.
Usually.
Unlike his no-good, lying, asshole father.
His other rule—never more than one night—well, he hadn’t broken that...yet. Although he’d been sorely tempted in his office earlier.
It was sure as shit going to test every single ounce of the rigid control he not only prided himself on but needed like oxygen in order to resist temptation. The minute she’d walked into his office behind Ben he’d wanted her again so badly he’d had to think of his whisker-chinned, sixth-grade music teacher Miss Lemmon to stave off his boner.
When he’d awoken at four that morning to find her gone, part of him had sagged back on the pillows with relief. He’d done his job. Shown her a good time—actually, a fucking fantastic time.
Yes, she’d understood the unspoken rules, sneaking out of his hotel room in the middle of the night. No number on the nightstand. No scribbled note demanding he call her. No hijacking his cell phone. But the sense of relief had done little to comfort him. A part of him, the part left restless by betrayal and humiliation, the part he’d hoped to leave behind in New York, had coiled like colic in his gut until he’d arisen before the dawn, taken a frigid shower and numbed his mind with several hours of legal work.
Despite walking away from Jacob Holdings, he still had unfinished deals for the family business, one in particular that, as shareholder, he had a personal interest in. No matter how much he might want to throw his father under the bus in retribution, he had his sisters’ future inheritance to protect and his mother’s share when her divorce from the old bastard was finalised. At least he could atone for causing the split by recommending a hotshot divorce attorney to get his mother a fair slice of the pie. But even drafting a complex and lengthy contract hadn’t dragged his mind away from the fascinating Essie.
He sighed, succumbing to the inevitable. Every muscle clenched and his cock thickened. He gave it a couple of lazy tugs as the memory of Essie’s whimpers and her cries echoed inside his head...
Ash slammed his eyes open and slapped the tile beside the showerhead. Here he was thinking about the other ways he’d like to fuck her, when there wasn’t going to be a next time. There should never have been a first time.
He’d been done with women even before he’d set foot on English soil. Plus she was Ben’s sister and now his club’s temporary manager. An employee. And, more importantly, someone he couldn’t trust.
Perhaps he could fire her? Employ a replacement manager before Ben returned from his trip and say it hadn’t worked out with Essie. But Ben, quite rightly, wouldn’t tolerate the slight. And if it came out that Ash had fucked his little sister and then fired her for humiliating him, their longstanding friendship wouldn’t survive. And right now, Ash needed his friend—the only friend he could be certain hadn’t known what his fiancée had really been up to all those years ago.
Her dumping him practically at the altar had left him struggling to trust the opposite sex, but his father’s recent revelations and the public backlash had thrown Ash into a tailspin until he no longer knew which way was up and who he could rely upon not to snigger behind his back.
Of course, Ben didn’t know the latest twist, the one that had prompted Ash’s departure from New York. How the third wheel in his past relationship—the work colleague she’d claimed to have cheated with—had been nothing but a ruse. A decoy to stave off the marriage his ex had no longer wanted and conceal what had really been happening. Ash closed his eyes against his own reflection in the glass. Some things were so shameful they couldn’t be shared, no matter how good the friend.
He completed his shower routine with a bitter taste in his mouth. A taste that morphed into the sweetest honey when Essie slipped back into his mind. With her blue eyes blazing and indignation thickening her accent and giving her extra height...he’d wanted to kiss her pinched-with-disapproval mouth and haul her spectacular ass out of his club at the same time.
She’d duped him. And no one duped him any more. He made sure of that in his professional sphere; his uncompromising reputation had become legendary.
And personally...? Fuck, there he was a mess. But he’d get there if it killed him. He’d claw back control, starting with his libido and the temptation threatening to derail him in the shape of Essie Newbold.
Now he had to spend the next two months both avoiding her and checking up on her so she had no opportunity to hoodwink him again. Not to mention hiding the fact he’d fucked her from his best friend, all the while fighting the urge to repeat the mistake.
Hi, Ben, how was New York? You know how I never date? Yeah, you understand why... Well, just FYI, I fucked your shiny new sister and I wouldn’t mind having another crack at it, no strings. Hope you don’t mind...
For a man who loved the law, loved truth and valued honesty and loyalty, he had certainly waded in some pretty murky waters recently. And it messed with his already reeling head.
He’d thought a satisfying night with the bubbly, curvaceous redhead would soothe his battered pride and redress the balance. But all it had done was land him deeper in the shit and reaffirm his stance on trusting no one.
Slamming out of the fogged-up cubicle, Ash threw a towel over his head and scrubbed at his hair. Looping that one around his damp shoulders, he quickly towelled his legs dry and then wrapped the second towel around his waist.
Just as he’d finished cleaning his teeth, he heard the noise and froze, every sense on high alert.
Someone was inside his apartment.
His SW1 penthouse apartment equipped with state-of-the-art security.
‘Um, hello...?’ A female voice.
Tossing the towel from around his neck, he strode from his en-suite bathroom, expecting perhaps to find the building manager or the cleaner he’d hired to ready the place for his arrival.
He came to a halt just inside his bedroom.
Essie stood in the doorway, her cheeks flushed as if she’d been running and her mouth hanging open as her stare took a slow, sensual meander over his naked torso. Her hot eyes settled on his groin.
He’d been hard most of the day, thinking about her and their night together. Hard in the shower, tempted to bang one out just to attain a measure of relief from the memory of her tight warmth gripping him. And now here she was. Wide eyes touching every inch of his bare skin, and the hard again parts of him behind the towel.
Her chest lifted and fell with shallow pants, which pushed her luscious, pert breasts in his direction. Having taken her time leisurely touring his body, she met his stare again.
He lifted one brow, lips twitching, tempted to fling off the towel so she could really go to town.
‘You wanted something?’ Had she come for a do-over? Fuck—that was refreshing.
It wasn’t his usual style, but damn if he wasn’t seriously considering bending the rules and bending her over. Just to clarify that it had been as ball-emptying as he remembered.
No. He didn’t do second times. Clearly his libido was on New York time.
She stuttered back to life. ‘I... I... Ben needs you to sign these forms for the bank. He couldn’t get hold of you.’ A pretty pink flush stained her chest above the neckline of her dress, which still bore this morning’s coffee stain. It did nothing to diminish her allure. If anything, it heightened her attractiveness, a sign she was human, clumsy and lacked the vanity to rush home and change.
‘I was in the gym and then the shower. How did you get in?’ He took the folder from her and tossed it onto the bed. Perhaps he should offer her the use of his washer and dryer...get another glimpse of that phenomenal body.
Wishful thinking, asshole.
The phone in her hand buzzed, and she glanced at it, distracted.
He dropped his towel as if he were alone and strode to the dresser, selecting a fresh pair of black cotton boxers. If she chose to waltz into his home uninvited...
‘For goodness’ sake—do you have to?’
He shot her a look, the underwear he’d been about to don still dangling from his hand. Why should he be alone in this fierce, futile and, frankly, damned inconvenient attraction? Time to play with her a little.
‘Hey, you saunter into my home, uninvited. If you don’t want to find a guy naked, I suggest you call or knock first.’
He tugged the boxers on, noting with a slug of satisfaction the way her stare clung to his nakedness until the last second. Or perhaps she was gloating at his steely length, ready for action. But he was only human. She was a beautiful woman with a knockout body—but that didn’t mean he’d act on his unconscious reaction to her. Or his conscious thoughts of splaying her over his bed and fucking her out of his system for good.
Her cheeks flamed.
Another buzz of the phone.
Someone was desperate to get hold of her.
‘Got a hot date?’
She scowled a death stare at him, dropped the phone into her bag and then fisted her hands on her hips as if she couldn’t quite believe his audacity.
Believe away, darling.
‘None of your business.’ She tossed her head with a haughty lift of her chin, the long swathe of russet hair gliding over her shoulders. How would that gorgeous hair look spread over her naked back as he took her from behind; the tips brushing her rosy nipples as he pinned her to the wall and sank to his knees in front of her; spread out over his stark white bed sheets as he pummelled her up the mattress?
‘So first you accuse me of being a liar, and now you break into my home just to give me attitude?’ He could live with the latter, but having his integrity questioned pricked at the crude stitches holding him together.
She glared but had the good grace to blush. ‘Look. I...I’m sorry about calling you a liar. You didn’t actually lie to me. I just... I was gobsmacked to see you again.’
‘Apology accepted. And that made two of us.’ Ash moved to his walk-in closet, still visualising all the ways he’d like to make her come.
‘But, I didn’t break in,’ she called after him. ‘Ben told me where to find your spare key. And I did knock.’
‘Ah, yes. Ben. A bit awkward, isn’t it?’ He selected a black T-shirt and poked his head around the door as he tugged it on, furious that his urge to touch her again was not only still present but seemed to intensify despite the stained dress, reminders of her name-calling and his own rigid rules. Well, if he had to suffer, he wanted answers. ‘Tell me, what is a graduate with a PhD doing working behind a bar?’ She was too smart for this job to be a career move, unless her degree was in hospitality management.
She bristled, her hip jutted to one side in a move that accentuated her curves and the shapely length of her bare legs. Legs he’d like to sink between...face first.
‘I...I’m considering my career options. Ben was left in the lurch, and us working together is a good opportunity to get to know each other better.’
So she had a mission that involved spending time with Ben? Damned inconvenient for him and his raging inner battle, but equally intriguing, forcing her deeper into the crevices of his mind where she’d taken up residence since yesterday. He needed an eviction notice.
Another buzz from her bag. Why didn’t she silence the damn thing?
‘Why don’t you answer that?’
She shook her head. ‘It’s just some...notifications.’ She breathed a long sigh. ‘Look, we’re all grown-ups.’ She looked at him while she twisted a few strands of her hair the way she had yesterday. Perhaps, like him, her head was saying one thing while her body had ideas on a refresher.
But Ash didn’t do regret over relationships any more—been there, done that. Look where he’d ended up after yesterday’s lapse in judgment. And he was damned determined not to give in to the unfathomable desire currently dragging at him. A desire to have a second dip in the water.
‘It was just a one-night thing. As I told you, unlike you, I’m no expert. But isn’t it best to just...move on? Forget it ever happened?’
Was she convincing herself?
And she was right. His head had moved on pretty quickly—he’d trained himself well. But his libido, and his dick in particular, were as keen as mustard. It must be those damn flirty dresses that clung to her gorgeous tits like a second skin. Or her warm cinnamon scent infecting his bedroom. Or that pouty bottom lip her teeth kept tugging on...
‘I’m sure it makes sense to you, too. After all, we have to work together.’
He emerged from the closet tugging up his jeans and buttoning the fly, trapping his still-eager dick behind a row of studs. If only he could trap his erotic musings as easily.
‘Do we? Couldn’t you resign? Tell Ben you’ve changed your mind?’ Yes—remove temptation. She and Ben could get to know each other on their own time. His own sisters drove him crazy sometimes—how much time did they really need to spend together?
There was a small gasp as if he’d suggested abandoning kittens at the roadside. ‘I’m not letting Ben down like that.’
‘Surely he won’t care.’
For a second she paled as if he’d struck a deep, throbbing nerve. ‘Why would you say that? What has Ben said?’
Until today he’d never given much thought to Ben’s news a year or so back that he had a half-sister in London. Their friendship had stretched over the years as careers took hold, their recent contact limited to a snatched beer after work or a trip to the gym. What was the nature of Ben’s relationship with Essie? How close were they and why had she been out of the picture growing up?
One thing was certain: she didn’t know Ben well enough to be confident in his reaction to her quitting. Interesting... He shrugged. ‘I just mean I can replace you within the hour. No disruption to service.’
Fire shone from her stare. ‘Oh, I just bet you could. Well, I’m not disposable and I’m not that easily substituted.’ She stalked nearer, shunting his body temperature dangerously high with her teasing scent—summer, cinnamon and all woman. ‘I’m not an inconvenience to be sidelined, quietly slinking away as if I don’t exist.’
Whoa, where was all that coming from? He had clearly done more than touch a nerve—he’d sawed one in half and poured salt on the cut ends.
Her eyes danced over his crotch and then lifted. ‘Couldn’t you move back to New York?’
Not until the gossip-feeding frenzy had died down and his personal life was no longer entertainment news, but he wasn’t sharing that shit. And why? So that she didn’t have to feel embarrassed about over-sharing with her one-night stand? He parried with a step of his own. ‘But then what would you stare at?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re practically drooling, sweetheart. I know I was a little wiped out last night, so if you want another crack at it...’ He tilted his head towards the massive bed, which dominated the room like an elephant, every muscle tensed in anticipation of finally getting what he craved.
She closed the distance between them, eyes glazed and mouth open as if lust oozed from every pore.
‘I’m perfectly capable of separating a meaningless fuck from the work that needs to be done at the club.’ Her stare lingered on his mouth.
Was she waiting?
For the pithy reply banked up on his tongue, or another taste? His mind fogged as her proximity, her scent, her heat flooded his blood with the testosterone that had dogged him all day, just knowing she worked in the same building. Close enough to hear her throaty chuckle while she spoke to contractors and the soft humming that accompanied her fingers clacking on her keyboard.
‘My club.’ Time to remind Miss Compartmentalised who steered the ship. ‘But are you capable of the work? Ben and I need someone honest, dependable, committed.’ Ash ignored the flare that turned her irises to molten metal. He ignored the urgency of his own needs beating at his body until his muscles screamed with inertia. ‘Tell me, who are you today?’
Her hands fisted on her hips, a move that tightened the fabric across her full breasts outlining her erect nipples...begging for his tongue?
‘What does that mean?’
‘Yesterday a ditsy student tourist, today a competent professional in charge of my club? I don’t take well to being deceived.’ He battled for his legendary control, which he relied on as armour to protect himself. ‘I don’t trust you. So until I know my club is in safe hands, you and I will be working very closely together. Got that?’
Her stare narrowed but her eyes gleamed with something close to the incandescent flare burning through his veins. Perhaps that was the answer: to fuck this inexplicable chemistry out of their systems; to quench the fire. He’d said it wouldn’t happen again, but that was before she’d stormed into his bedroom. Before all her talk about meaningless fucks and moving on. Before she’d drooled over his deliberate nudity and was still mentally stripping him with her hungry, slumberous stare.
Her mouth hung open while said stare burned the flesh from his features. ‘I’d never do anything to damage Ben’s business—you’re just paranoid.’ She dropped her bag and fisted her hands on her hips once more.
He inched closer, chest puffed. ‘You’ve got that right. It works well for me these days.’
Her eyes blazed. ‘I’m here to help my brother open his club. No matter how much you want me gone.’ Her breath hitched. ‘Unless I hear it from Ben that my services are no longer required, I’m staying, so you’d better get used to the idea.’
She jutted her chin forward, bringing her mouth only centimetres from his, her breath fanning his face. She looked halfway to orgasm already—panting, flushed, her mouth saying one thing while her body strained in his direction.
Don’t touch her.
Back away.
Too late...
In less than a heartbeat she’d pushed her hands into his still-damp hair and dragged his face down. But he’d been on the move himself. He scooped her around the waist and hauled her from the floor. Their mouths clashed and she gave a cry close to a victory wail as she parted her lips under the surge and slide of his ferocious kiss.
All reason fled. Their tongues touched, the thrust and parry of wildness a perfectly matched duel. Her body moulded to his as if they’d been forged side by side. Her passion seemed to enflame the lust that had been simmering in him since she’d swanned into his office this morning—his knees almost buckled. He wasn’t alone.
Who was this woman he couldn’t resist? Her wilful determination turned him on as much as it pissed him off and her demanding sexuality was...magnificent. His first impressions about her had been dead wrong. Essie fully embraced her sexuality—another fascinating aspect to her complex personality.
Like electricity and water, they sparked off each other. Her hands twisted his hair until he growled. Her greedy mouth sucked on his lips as if she wanted to consume him whole and her thighs clung to his waist as he hoisted her higher to press his steely length against her warm, wet centre, delivering the friction they both seemed to crave.
If he hadn’t been staring her down, eye-to-eye, while they consumed each other, his eyes would have rolled back in his head. Her fantastic body aligned with his, her wet heat seeped through the denim covering his thigh as she ground herself there and her nipples poked through the two layers of clothing separating her chest from his.
A fresh surge of blood turned his dick to granite.
Yes.
One more time to banish this tigress masquerading as a pussycat from his system and restore his control over the explosive situation. He didn’t need to trust her. He just had to fuck her. Just sex. Great sex. One last astounding time.
With one arm now curled around his neck like a vice, her free hand snaked between their bodies to rub him through his jeans before fumbling for the buttons of his fly. She writhed in his arms, all sexy little whimpers and catches of her breath. Fuck, she was a hellcat. Challenging, uninhibited, eager. He’d been doomed from the minute he’d opened his eyes to the sight of her yesterday in the sun-dappled park.
He spread his feet, cementing his balance so he could do a little exploring of his own. Cupping her ass in one hand, Ash delved beneath the hem of her dress with the other. His fingers skimmed her thigh, zeroing in on her to find the source of the warm patch on his jeans—her soaked panties. With their working mouths and challenging stares still locked, he slipped his fingers beyond the cotton and lace.
She was fiery hot and slick against his fingers, and when he swiped forward and located her clit she broke free from the kiss with a moan. Her sultry glare—half fuck you, half fuck me—dared him. Spurred him on. Not that he required the encouragement.
In two strides, he’d deposited her ass on the edge of his dresser, which, like the rest of his home, was sleek, minimal and uncluttered. She spread her thighs, welcoming him into the cradle of space she created with a tug of his shirt.
While his fingers resumed the slip and slide against her, his other hand sought her pebbled nipple, strumming through the layers of fabric. But that wasn’t enough for her. She released her grip on his shoulders long enough to unbutton the top few buttons of her dress and yank both it and her bra down, exposing one pale, creamy shoulder and a perfect, pink-tipped breast.
Fuck.
He groaned.
Perfection.
He dived to get his mouth on her. Just one more taste. Then he’d stop this madness.
But Essie was having none of that. One hand returned to his hair, her grip punishing and directive while the other drove him wild by rubbing his erection through his clothes. Her pert flesh filled his mouth and he sucked hard, drawing her in deeper and guided by her continued twisting and tugging on his hair and her repeated ‘yes’es. Her hips shunted against his hand, as if she was as desperate for her release as he was.
Just one more time. Until he worked this baffling urge from his off-kilter system. This time he’d walk away sated, equilibrium restored. Cured.
Pinning her to the furniture with his hips, he pushed two fingers inside her and feathered his thumb over her clit. His mouth returned to hers while his fingers strummed the damp nipple his mouth left behind.
True to the Essie of last night, she clawed his shoulders, her moans growing in frequency and volume.
‘Tell me when you’re close,’ he mumbled against her lips, reluctant to break away from her breathy and frantic kisses.
She nodded, her eyes heavy and her hair a wild tumble around her flushed face. His clothing was practically cutting off his blood supply to his groin. But he couldn’t move, couldn’t have stopped now if he’d had a gun to his head.
He left her breast long enough to scoop one arm around her hips and shunt her ass to the edge of the dresser, changing the angle of her hips.
She cried out and tore her mouth from his. ‘Yes, now... I’m...’
He dived on her exposed nipple once more, laving and lapping like a starving man as his fingers plundered her slickness and his thumb circled her swollen clit.
She detonated, her whole body taut as her orgasm jolted her forward. If he hadn’t been there to block her fall the force of it would have tumbled her from the edge of the furniture. Ash kept up the sucking and circling until he’d wrung every spasm from her magnificent, trembling body. Until she pushed at his shoulders instead of clawing at them.
Her head fell forward, resting on his chest. ‘Oh, wow...’
The scent of her hair made his eyes roll back. Thank fuck she couldn’t see. He recited the most boring legal jargon he could think of to stop himself from burying his nose there and taking a deep, decadent inhalation. He’d fall asleep surrounded by her honeyed scent, just as he had last night...
Fuck.
His blood turned to liquid nitrogen.
What the hell was he doing?
He couldn’t trust this woman.
He couldn’t trust anyone.
His body turned rigid as reality dawned.
This had disaster written all over it. This business venture was his fresh start—a place no one knew him or his fucked-up family. A place of anonymity to regroup and wrestle back control. Why was he so fascinated in her? Why couldn’t he stay away?
He stepped back, tugging his hand from Essie’s underwear and avoiding her confused stare. He lowered her to the floor, steadying her by the elbows while she found her balance and righted her debauched clothing.
Too late for gentlemanly heroics now. Not that he claimed to be either. Not any more. That was a fool’s game.
He sucked back a swallow that reminded him of all the reasons his head had been right about this ill-advised encounter after all. He’d tasted betrayal—a different kind, but it sucked all the same. He was done with trusting the wrong person.
The humiliating scene at the Jacob Holdings offices flashed into his head. On discovering his father had been cheating on his mother, he’d lashed out at the man he’d worked alongside for ten years. He’d expected his old man to bristle, maybe tell him to mind his own business, but he hadn’t expected the vile mouthful of home truths he’d received in return.
Fire snaked along his frozen blood vessels, reminding him of the subsequent damage he’d inflicted, especially on the mother he’d been trying to protect.
He turned away, adjusting his rapidly diminishing hard-on, which recoiled at both the bitter memories of his fight with Hal and the reality that he barely knew this woman he couldn’t seem to leave alone.
‘What? We’re done?’
He turned back and offered a single, decisive nod. End it now. With his sanity and dignity intact, his fresh start still tenable and his principles only slightly grubby.
For the longest beat she stared, her expression neutral but her eyes stormy. Wordlessly she skirted him as if he were a shark and walked to his bed. She collected the file he’d tossed there earlier and returned to stand in front of him.
‘So, counsellor—’ she blatantly eyed the bulge in his jeans ‘—the defence rests?’
His fingers curled into fists to stop himself from kissing her sassy mouth once more. Pissed at him and flushed from her orgasm, she was even more breathtaking.
He ground his jaw clenched. ‘I think it’s best.’ He’d never needed his attorney poker face more.
She barked a humourless snort. ‘Don’t worry. I may not be an expert at casual sex, but I am an expert at surviving rejection.’
What the fuck...?
She pressed the file to his chest, holding it there until his hand replaced hers.
‘This needs to be scanned by six.’ She slid one last look down his torso to his still-hard dick. ‘Have a good evening.’
And she left.
