Читать книгу The Hudsons: Max, Bella and Devlin: Bargained Into Her Boss's Bed / Scene 3 / Propositioned Into a Foreign Affair / Scene 4 / Seduced Into a Paper Marriage - Catherine Mann, Maureen Child - Страница 10

Dana closed Max’s front door and locked it behind herself as quietly as possible, then she turned and spotted a big shadow in the dark foyer. She startled and fumbled for the security panel, intent on setting off the alarm if she had to.

The light flicked on, identifying the shadow as Max. She pressed a hand over her racing heart. The gate chime would have alerted him to her arrival. “Max, you scared me.”

“What did you tell Lewis about Honor?”

She smothered a wince. She’d been afraid he’d think the worst. “Nothing.”

“He works for Willow.”

She heard accusation in his tone, but until she had the script in hand and she was sure delivering it wouldn’t get Doug fired, she couldn’t give Max the whole story. Doug hadn’t had a copy of the script in the pile at his condo. She’d have to wait until he could look around the office when he returned from recce.

“Yes. He works for Willow. He’s been there a couple of years. And you might as well know now that I helped him get the job.”

“So that you could exchange information?”

“No.”

“Did you leak details of the Honor script to him?”

She pushed off the door and met his gaze straight on. “No, Max. Why would I do that?”

“You tell me.”

That he didn’t trust her ticked her off. “You think I sold information to our competitor?”

“Did you?”

The accusation stung. “I was trying to get information from Doug tonight, not give it to him. You wanted to know about Willow’s upcoming film. I’ve known Doug a long time. I was hoping he’d tell me what we needed to know.”

“Did he?”

“Not yet.”

“You kissed him.”

She shrugged. “Doug kisses everybody. It means nothing.”

“Yesterday you kissed me.”

Her mouth watered over the memory. She swallowed. “No. You kissed me. But I get that you didn’t know who…you weren’t awake or aware…that it wasn’t me you were thinking of.”

She was so uncomfortable with this conversation she could barely look him in the eyes.

“He’s your lover.”

She grimaced and curled her toes in her shoes. “He was. He isn’t anymore. That ended years ago.”

“Before or after he went to work at Willow?”

Why did he need to know this?

“About the same time. We didn’t want to be accused of a conflict of interest, so we ended our relationship.” By then they’d figured out they were better friends than lovers anyway. And yes, Doug had figured out she was looking for someone who could make her forget her boss. But Doug hadn’t been that guy. No way was she going to tell Max that.

“Did you promise to meet him again?”

Heat crawled up her cheeks. Not in the way he meant, but she wasn’t going to lie. “We didn’t set a date.”

“But you are going to see him again.”

“I might. He’s a friend.” If he got the script, they’d definitely meet. He was supposed to call if/when that happened and set up a rendezvous. Waiting a week or three seemed like an eternity.

Max moved closer until he loomed over her and she had to tilt her head back to hold his gaze. “I could fire you for that conflict of interest you mentioned.”

Her stomach sank. “You don’t need to do that, Max. I swear I’m not sharing company secrets. I’m trying to help, not hurt Hudson Pictures.”

“Will you sleep with him to get the information?”

She flinched and gasped. “No.”

“Will you kiss him again?”

This was a weird conversation for a man who avoided personal exchanges like he would stepping on a fire-ant hill. “Probably. I told you Doug kisses everybody.”

“Do you?”

She couldn’t gauge his mood. She’d never seen him like this…all edgy and male with a hint of aggression just below the surface. He wasn’t drunk. His words and eyes were clear and she didn’t smell liquor on his breath.

“No. I’m pretty selective who I kiss.”

His eyes narrowed. “Are you?”

He closed the gap between them. Only an inch or two separated their torsos. Her breath stalled in her chest. “Max?”

“I knew who I was kissing yesterday. I always know who I’m kissing.” He lifted her chin with his knuckle and covered her mouth with his.

Dana stood frozen with shock. Fast on the heels of that hair-raising circumstance came a potent cocktail of heat, arousal and adrenaline. His lips pressed hers open and his tongue sought and found hers in a slick, hot caress. A whimper of need slipped up her throat. Her nails bit into her palms as she struggled for sanity and fought the urge to wrap her arms around him.

She didn’t have a clue what was going on or why he was kissing her. And she didn’t care. She’d dreamed of this moment too often to question or fight it. His chest pressed her breasts and their thighs touched, and then his arm hooked around her and yanked her against him. Her heart raced and her skin flushed.

His heat scorched her, winded her, aroused her. The pressure of his mouth on hers intensified, bending her back over his arm, opening her mouth for deeper possession. She dropped her purse on the floor and gave in to the need to wind her arms around his middle for support as the room spun around her.

The warmth of his palm splayed over her hip and rose with torturous slowness to rest on her rib cage with his thumb just below her breast. Her nipple tightened in anticipation. She wanted him to touch her, ached for it. But he didn’t.

His hold loosened and he stepped away. “Don’t see Lewis again if you want to keep your job.”

Dana struggled to catch her breath and unscramble her brain. “Wha-what if I can’t promise that?”

“I’d think long and hard before I refused if I were you. Your job won’t be the only one on the line.”

And then he pivoted and climbed the stairs, leaving her alone in the foyer. Dana sagged against the front door with her heart pounding a deafening roar in her ears.

If she did as he ordered, she wouldn’t get the answers Hudson needed. Surely once she had the script Max would understand and forgive her for ignoring his command?

It was a risk she had to take.

When he saw Dana smother a yawn, Max pushed away from his desk and stood. “Take a break.”

Dana’s brown eyes found his. “It’s not even noon.”

He couldn’t think for the distraction of having her only yards away. He heard each shift of her body, every sigh and even the quiet rumble of her stomach, for pity’s sake. Working in close proximity to her had never been an issue before. Why now when he didn’t have time for this?

“We don’t have time to correct mistakes that slip by because you’re tired.”

She snapped upright. “If I were that tired I’d take a break. I know my limitations. Do you, Max?”

“Of course.” Had she changed perfumes? Her scent seemed stronger. Or maybe he was just more aware of it since that kiss last week.

Why had he kissed her?

Why had she kissed him back?

He plowed a hand through his hair and turned toward the window. He hadn’t slept worth a damn since that night because he couldn’t help wondering what she had been doing during those two hours after she’d left the restaurant with Doug Lewis. He’d worried about her driving on his twisty road after drinking champagne.

But mostly he’d wondered if she’d been in Lewis’s bed.

And why did the idea of her naked and sweaty with Lewis make his gut burn? Must be because of the possible betrayal of Hudson secrets. If she’d shared the Honor script details, what else would she share?

The air inside the office suddenly seemed stuffy. He had to get out of this room. “I’m going for a swim.”

Dana blinked, her long lashes briefly concealing the confusion in her eyes. “Okay, I’ll cover the phones.”

“No, you’ll join me. We’ll both be more alert after a break.” And maybe the chlorine in the pool would kill her scent.

“But—”

“It’s Saturday, Dana. No one important is going to call. Put on your suit. I’ll meet you outside.”

He left before she could argue and jogged upstairs to his room. Changing into swim trunks took only seconds and then he was outside on his private deck sucking up the fresh air and letting the sun bake his skin. Neither did anything to cure the restlessness riding him.

What was his problem?

He descended the circular stair to the flagstone patio. The blue pool water glistened, but a swim wasn’t really what he needed. It was just a way to physically exhaust himself so that he could concentrate.

The door from the guest room to the patio opened, and Dana strolled out wearing a black bikini. He nearly choked on his tongue. She was toned where it counted, but soft where she needed to be. Honey-golden skin wrapped her curves in a mouth-watering package. Hunger hit him like a fist in the gut. How had he missed that she had a fantasy-worthy body?

He shook himself, trying to break the spell. This was Dana, the woman who’d been right under his nose, his right hand, for the past five years.

A woman who’d stood by him through some tough times.

A woman who might have betrayed him.

An idea infiltrated his brain like smoke slipping under a door. What better way to end the pillow talk between Dana and Lewis than by keeping her out of the other man’s bed?

And the best way to do that was for Max to keep her so busy in his bed that she wouldn’t have the time or energy to think about her ex-lover.

The idea sent a rush of heat through him, but his conscience countered with a warning prickle up the back of his neck. Sleeping with an employee was never a good idea. He’d learned that lesson the hard way. But he wasn’t going to marry Dana. She’d already stated her intention of leaving Hudson as soon as possible—if she won the bet. The complication would be a problem only if she stayed on as his E.A.

Deliberately seducing her for personal gain wasn’t the decent thing to do, but it would serve dual purposes. One, having her would satisfy his curiosity so that he could quit obsessing about her and get the damned film completed on time. She’d been interfering with his concentration since she’d moved into his house. Two, by getting closer to Dana he could find out exactly what she’d shared with Lewis and what Lewis had told her about Willow’s upcoming flick.

He walked toward her and saw the exact moment she figured out something was amiss. She froze. Her lashes fluttered and her lips parted—her soft, delicious lips. He couldn’t wait for another taste. God knows, the last two kisses had only whetted his appetite.

“Max?”

As he drew nearer he let his gaze devour the sleek curtain of her long, dark hair and the round curve of her breasts swelling above the black triangles of her top. Nice. Probably real. Real wasn’t something you saw too often in Hollywood. Her chest rose and fell as if she were drawing quick, shallow breaths.

A glint of gold caught his eye, drawing his attention down her midline to just above her modest-by-Holly-wood-standards bikini bottom. A tiny piece of jewelry glimmered in her navel. Closer inspection revealed a heart dangling over the dimple of her belly button, its swing agitated by the fine tremor of her body.

Dana, his conservative assistant, had a navel ring?

He searched her face. Who was this woman who had completely hidden her true personality from him for so long? She stared back at him, eyes wide, pupils expanded, but not with fear or rejection. He saw hunger, a hunger almost as great as his own in her dark brown eyes.

If she’d given him one back-off signal, he’d respect it. The last thing he needed was an employee crying foul. But she gave no such signals. Instead she licked her lips and tilted her head to the side, sending a cascade of thick dark hair across her shoulder to semi-conceal one breast and shoulder. “I—I thought we were going to swim.”

Her whisper swept over his skin like a caress, leaving goose bumps behind. Goose bumps? When had he last experienced those? And she hadn’t even touched him yet. “Later.”

He reached for her. She met him halfway, their bodies colliding with a gentle slap. The fusion of her smooth, hot, golden skin to his forced the air from his lungs. He paused to catch his breath, to wrestle for some measure of control, to remember why he was doing this.

She might have betrayed him.

She might be planning to betray him further.

But the knowledge didn’t kill his appetite. He wanted her kiss so badly he deliberately denied himself the pleasure, grasped her upper arms and backed her toward the house. Anticipation made his mouth water.

Their bare legs brushed against each other, their bellies sliding with each step. Her breasts nudged his chest, her nipples tightened and prodded him, and her quickening exhalations puffed against his chin. Desire pooled in his groin and his muscles clenched. He could feel himself hardening against her. If she had any doubts where this was headed before, she couldn’t possibly now.

He paused on the sun-warmed flagstones outside her room, giving rational thought one last chance to derail him from this irreversible course of action, giving her one more chance to object to crossing the boss-employee line.

“Dana, if we go through that door, I am going to be inside you.”

She took a quick breath. Her hands cupped his shoulders and for a moment he thought she’d push him away. But then she looked at him through her lashes with those passion-darkened eyes and coasted her palms down his biceps and back up to his neck. With agonizing slowness, she scraped her short nails lightly down his arms, over the insides of his wrists, across his palms, before the tips of her fingers hooked his. Sauntering backward with a hip rolling gait, she tugged him toward her room, making it clear she wanted this as much as he did.

Dana wanted him.

The knowledge rocked him, shocked him. When and how had that happened? Before she’d returned his kiss, he couldn’t remember her ever giving him those kinds of signals. In fact, if anything, she’d mothered him, pampered him. Spoiled him, he admitted.

He reached past her to slide open the door. Cooled air rushed out of the house and over his skin, but did nothing to cool his desire. Once they’d crossed the threshold—literally, figuratively—there would be no going back. His feet sank into the carpet. He closed the door behind him, sealing them into the silent house.

The room smelled like her, looked like her. The other her. This woman he didn’t know. She’d added candles and framed photographs of her family and potted plants to the room.

Who was this other woman? he asked himself not for the first time.

He caught her face in his hands and stroked her smooth skin and then threaded his fingers through her thick, silky hair. Her head tilted back, but he ignored the silent invitation. He caressed her neck, her shoulders, her arms, and then he transferred his hands to her hips and drew circles over her hipbones with his thumbs. She shivered and gasped. The sound hit him low and hard.

Easing his hands upward, he outlined her narrow waist and the bottom edge of her rib cage, savoring her warm, satiny skin. Her lids fluttered closed. He bent to kiss one, then the other. Her thick lashes tickled his chin, and her back arched, pressing her pelvis into his. Need stabbed him. He sucked a sharp breath through his gritted teeth.

Dipping his head, he sipped from the shadowy warmth beneath her ear. She angled her head to give him better access. This time he didn’t refuse. The hot press of her hands at his waist jolted him. The unhurried caress of her soft hands up and down his sides urged him to rush, to push her onto her bed and bury himself inside her. He wanted her hard and fast. For that reason he kept a tightfisted grip on his control.

Mindless passion was for college kids. Smart passion, delayed satisfaction brought greater rewards. And purpose. He reminded himself he was doing this for a reason, but that reason was a little hazy when she tasted so good on his lips and on his tongue.

Nuzzling the fragrant spot behind her earlobe made her shudder in his arms. Her nails raked his back and ripped an unexpected groan from deep in his chest. He drew back, putting space between him and fighting the temptation to say to hell with slow and easy.

He traced the V-neck of her top with one finger, his eyes focusing on the nipples beading beneath the thin fabric. He wanted those tight buds in his mouth, needed to roll them around on his tongue and taste her. Instead he circled the band of black around her ribcage and drew a line down the center of her belly. He repeated the circle around her navel and then the top of her bikini bottom.

She shifted impatiently, her smooth, warm thighs sliding against each other. “Max.”

The half cry, half whimper got to him. He’d bet his Lamborghini she’d sound like that when he slid inside her the first time. And that couldn’t happen soon enough. His patience evaporated. He reached for the knot at her nape and fumbled it free. The ties dropped and the fabric slid downward with excruciating slowness before finally baring her breasts. He swallowed hard at the sight of the dusky centers.

Dana reached one arm behind her back and loosened the other tie. The top floated to the floor. He flexed his fingers in anticipation and then cupped her warm, soft flesh in his palms and buffed her nipples with his thumbs. Her breath hitched. She bit her lip. He bent his head and took a puckered tip into his mouth.

Her taste was like nothing he’d experienced before. He savored her unique flavor and her scent filled his nostrils. Her fingers threaded through his hair, holding him close as she arched into him, her free breast branding his bicep. But he wasn’t trying to escape. Not until he’d had his fill of her and cured this damned sudden and irrational obsession that had hit him like a bad case of the flu.

He shifted his mouth to the neglected soft globe and used the moisture he’d left behind to lubricate his massaging fingers on the first. Dana’s fingers tightened, her nails scraping an arousing pattern on his scalp. He wanted more.

“Mmm. That feels good,” she whispered brokenly.

Planting one knee on the floor, he hooked her bikini bottom with his thumbs and yanked it down her legs. She gripped his shoulders as she stepped out of her swimsuit, her touch hot and firm on his skin. He wanted her hands all over him, the sooner, the better.

Letting her nipple slide from his mouth, he looked up at her, at her red lips and heavy-lidded eyes, at the curve of her damp nipples, her small waist. But it was the tiny cluster of dark curls that beckoned him. He needed to taste her. Her golden skin, her sweet center, the essence of her arousal. But not yet. Not when his hunger was sharp enough to cut him.

He pressed a kiss to her breastbone, laved his way down her belly, toward the golden heart. He circled the jewelry with his tongue and she hiccupped a series of short fast breaths. As he strung kisses along her bikini line he used his hands to caress from her hips down the outside of her legs to her feet.

He curled his fingers around her ankles, grasped the delicate joints and urged her legs apart, widening her stance for balance because he intended to rock her world.

“Max?” she breathed.

He worked his hands upward on the insides of her legs this time, his palms coasting over warm, smooth soft skin. She was so damned touchable. The scent of her excitement grew stronger as he neared his target and his own desire pounded through his veins, urgent and unrelenting. He forced himself to take it slow when what he wanted to do was shoot to his feet and bury himself deep inside her with a single thrust.

He reached the back of her knees. She shivered at the scrape of his fingernails along the sensitive crease. He did it again with the same results. She clutched his hair and then released, clutched and released. Her short nails lightly outlined his ears, sending stimulating ripples cresting through him.

He finally reached her thighs and massaged their sleekly muscled length, working his way from her tensed quadriceps and hamstrings to her softer, warmer inner thighs. He traced her panty line with his thumbnails and her knees quaked. Encouraged, he leaned forward and traced the same path with his tongue, simultaneously finding her center with his fingers. She was hot, wet and ready for him. Her hands cupped his head holding him close.

Her fragrance filled his lungs and surged straight to his groin. The selfish urge to flip her on her back on the bed and ride her hard crossed his mind. Instead, he replaced his fingers with his tongue and laved the swollen flesh waiting for him, circling it, tasting it, exploring it until he found the spot that made her cry out and curl her toes into the carpet.

Her taste filled him with a desperate, ravenous hunger for more. More. More. His pulse hammered in his head, almost drowning out the sexy-as-hell sounds coming from Dana’s mouth.

“It’s too much. I can’t.” Her nails dug into his scalp. She tried to pull away.

He clamped his hands on her buttocks and intensified his oral caress. Her legs shook. She tasted so damned good, smelled so good, felt so good. He sucked her into his mouth and pumped his fingers deep inside her. Even without her moan to clue him in, he registered the exact second she quit fighting and went over the edge. Her cries filled the air and her internal muscles clenched his fingers.

He rode the wave with her, savoring each squeeze, each whimper, each spasm. And when her knees buckled, he held her upright. He kissed the pale skin between her curls and the twinkling heart and looked up at her. Her pleasure was a sight to behold. Dusky peach painted her cheeks and her lips were red and swollen from her biting them.

Her eyes slowly opened halfway and found his. The hand she had gripping his shoulder slid up the side of his neck, under his jaw and then she lifted his chin. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” And it had been. He rose and kissed her hard on the mouth.

Reality check. He’d been so eager to lose himself inside her he’d almost forgotten a critical component. “I’ve barely started. But we need a condom.”

Her lashes fluttered and she lowered her chin. “I have some.”

She bit her lip as if embarrassed by the confession, and then walked across the room. He enjoyed watching her move, and the tight curve of her bottom made him grit his teeth. Delicious.

Dana was a beautiful woman. How could he have been so blind?

She withdrew a plastic packet from her purse and turned. Despite the blush on her cheeks, there was a sexual sparkle in her eyes that grabbed him by the hormones and demanded his attention. But there was also a contradictory reticence lurking in the way her gaze bounced from his and the way she chewed her bottom lip. Her tight body language and a slight hesitation snagged his curiosity. He didn’t know what to make of this from his confident executive assistant who handled conniption-fit-throwing actors and on-set disasters without breaking a sweat.

He took the package from her, pulled her close and covered her mouth with his. Her response started out tentative but quickly became so wild and uninhibited she pushed him close to the edge of control. He nipped her bottom lip. She bit him right back—not hard, just playful. Sexy. Enticing as hell. Hunger bolted through him like lightning.

He stroked her smooth back, her soft bottom, and she mimicked his every move, squeezing where he squeezed, scratching where he scratched. He tightened his arms around her, pulling her flush against his erection for one brief moment before bringing his hand between them to find her center. She whimpered into his mouth as he thumbed her still swollen flesh.

She yanked her mouth free. “Max, I want you.”

“And you’re going to have me as soon as you do one more thing for me.”

“What?” Her body tensed in his arms and her nails dug into his shoulders. He quickened his caress. Orgasm overtook her.

“That’s what I was waiting for,” he whispered against her temple once she stopped shuddering.

Her lips and teeth found his shoulder, surprising him with a gentle love bite and punching him with another arousing jolt. She impatiently shoved his swim trunks down his legs and wrapped her fingers around his length. She stroked him long and slow from base to tip and back again.

His teeth clamped shut on a furnace blast of desire. It slammed him like a runaway trolley, winding him, making his head spin. He struggled to right himself and then kicked aside his trunks and tore the condom open with his teeth. She tried to take it from him, but he was so triggered he didn’t dare let her. He grabbed her hand and redirected it to less dangerous territory—his waist. Only that ended up being more hazardous than he’d anticipated as her nails traced havoc-wreaking patterns on his skin with devastating results.

He rolled on the latex with an unsteady hand, ripped back the comforter and backed her onto the mattress. She lay down and he caressed her long, luscious legs apart. He wanted to feast on her, to nibble from toes to earlobes, lingering and making her cry out again and again. He wanted that too much.

How could he want Dana this way when he’d never had a sexual thought about her before that kiss? He brushed aside the question and positioned himself. He intended to take it slow, to control his passion and keep his head the way he always did, but then she wrapped a hand around his nape, pulling him down for a kiss, and simultaneously hooked a leg behind his butt and pressed him forward. Slow and rational ceased to be an option.

He sank deep into her mouth and into the hot, slick glove of her body simultaneously. Hunger grabbed him by the groin and the throat, and a groan of pleasure barreled its way out of his chest. Instinct took over. He couldn’t slow the thrust of his tongue or his hips. She met him stroke for stroke, engaging in a mental and physical tug of war for control. Reining himself in was no longer a sure thing. It was a damned risky proposition.

He fought through the animalistic drive riding him and tried to focus on her pleasure. This was about her, about keeping her from Lewis’s bed. But damned if he gave a flip about his motives at the moment.

He swiveled his hips against her. She broke the kiss. “That f-feels g-good.”

Her breathy, broken words drove him to repeat the maneuver again and again until her back bowed and her nails raked his back, his thighs, his chest. She nipped his shoulder—another gentle love bite—and that was all it took. He crossed the line, the point of no return. He pounded into her. Deeper, harder, faster. Again. Again. Her gasps and cries fueled him.

When he felt her tense, heard her breath catch, he did the same. Fighting his way back from the brink became a lost cause. Orgasm ripped through her, making her body squeeze his and forcing the air from her lungs in a sexy groan. And he lost it. His own release battered him over and over until he was spent. His lungs burned. His arm muscles quivered and then collapsed. He landed on her. It took seconds to regain his strength and lift himself from the warm, damp, soft cushion of her body. Not that he wanted to leave. And that worried him.

Her eyes remained closed, her lashes a dark fan on her flushed cheeks. But it was the smile curving her lips that nailed him right in the chest. He leaned down and brushed his mouth over hers.

What the…?

His arms snapped straight and then he rolled off her and landed on the bed. The bed that smelled like Dana. Like Dana and hot sex.

Why had he kissed her that way? He didn’t do tender gestures. Not anymore. Sex was sex. Basic. Primal. Satisfaction of a need. And in this case, a way to protect his assets. No emotion required or desired.

But damn, he wanted to ask her about that smile. If it meant what he thought it did—that this was more than just physical release for her—then he needed to warn her. Temporary was his MO. His only MO. He would never marry again.

But if he warned her off and she got huffy, then his honesty could cause problems. One, she might quit. Two, she might pout and refuse to speak to him—the way Karen sometimes had. Three, anger might drive her back to Lewis. None of those options would help him get Honor completed on time.

So he’d have to suck it up and hope like hell she didn’t get emotionally attached. Because happily ever after might make for a great film, but it had no place in his life.