Page 4 of Finale (North Security)
“Is that a yes?” I ask.
Her blue eyes flash. “There’s no way in hell.”
“Not even for Chef Bautista?”
“Not for any chef in the world. I can’t even tell if you’re joking right now. Or just playing some kind of prank. This is a business transaction.”
“Our marriage would be a business transaction.”
She laughs, a wild sound. I want her to make that sound with my tongue on her clit. “Let’s assume I’m even contemplating this idea. Are you suggesting a marriage in name only?”
“Oh darling. We’re going to have sex.” I glance down at her. That sweet little black pantsuit that she uses as a shield, as if anything could cover her innate sensuality. Every man who meets with her in this conference room wants to spread her naked on the shining wood table. Myself included. “I suppose a test run is in order. A spreadsheet with numbers that add up.”
“What?” Her blue eyes are clouded. She’s affected by how close we are. She feels the attraction the same as I do. We’re both just animals beneath the pretty trappings, and her instincts warn her body to prepare itself.
Her pale skin turns pink. I want to see where else she’s pink. I settle for her mouth.
A light brush of my lips over hers.
And then again.
I knew we’d have chemistry, but I’m still surprised by the heat that streaks through me. The hunger. It demands satisfaction. Here. Now. More.
I press harder, showing her how it will be between us. I’m commanding in all areas of my life—business and personal. And definitely sex.
“Should I make a table of your lips? Should I draw a graph of your taste?” I murmur to her, probing deeper, questing with my tongue, searching for that feminine flavor. There she is. She holds herself very still as if she’s never been kissed.
Her soft cry sounds almost lost, and then she tentatively kisses me back.
This was only supposed to be a test. For her. For myself. To see if we were compatible, to prove to her that we were. A sense of unassailable rightness propels me forward, until I’m nibbling on her lush bottom lip, biting down so I can hear her high-pitched moan of protest.
I’m not touching her anywhere, only my mouth to hers. My hands are at my side, turned into fists so I don’t grab her. She’s the one who grabs me. Her little hands pull at my suit jacket, tugging, tugging. The warmth of her body seeps through the wool and linen.
She gasps and pulls away, cheeks flushed. “This is in-in-inappropriate.”
I’m gratified by that small stutter, proof that she’s affected. Because I’m bloody well affected. I thought I was hard when the elevator doors opened and I got a glimpse of that tight body encased in a sophisticated suit. Now I’m so erect I’m aching.
“If this shocks you, wait until our wedding night.”
“We’re not getting married.”
“Don’t fool yourself. I could have your pantsuit off, legs spread wide, my tongue in your pretty little cunt if I wanted. You’d come loud enough that your father would hear it down the hallway.”
Her blue eyes are midnight with arousal. “Then why don’t you?”
Eager girl. I’m going to enjoy her. “We live in a modern world, but I’m a traditional man. The first time we have sex will be on our wedding night.”
She scoffs. It would be more convincing if her pupils weren’t dilated. If her breath wasn’t coming fast. She’s the dictionary definition of aroused. “You’re insane.”
“And you’re lovely. Beautiful. Divine. The first time I saw you, I wanted you.”
A roll of her pretty eyes. “I bet you say that at every investor meeting.”
That makes me grin. “I didn’t fall in love until I found out you’d made the spreadsheets, though. Precise. Smart. You gave me what I wanted before I knew I needed it.”
“I should call security. I should have you thrown out of the building.”
“You won’t.”
She skirts the table, putting it between us, using it as a shield. “Sit,” she says, her voice imperious. She’s used to men who obey her. And for now, I will. She’s not mine yet. Not mine to control, to fuck, to play with.
I sit down in a conference chair and lean back, hands behind my head. “Are you ready to discuss the terms of our merger?”
Hands smooth her jacket. She gives a little shake of her head. She’s trying to compose herself. As if there’s a chance in hell I’m going to write a check and walk away. The black padfolio she brought sits in front of me now. We’ve switched places. I open it and turn the pages. It’s a printout of the proposal she sent me, with her notes scribbled in the margins. Ideas she wants to emphasize. Talking points. A few numbers written down.
My eyebrows go up. “That low? You must be desperate for money.”
