Recipe for Satisfacton(25)

A low growl sounded from the doorway. “Take those shoes off.”

She froze, her heart leaping into her throat. How was it possible the sexy sound of his voice scared her and excited her all at the same time? She tensed, not wanting to face him for fear of his anger. Her carelessness was completely unprofessional. But she also tightened in all the right places, a wave of heat breaking out across her skin, just waiting for his next command.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. She bent and tore the shoes from her feet. “This is so unprofessional. I should never have touched the shoes, I—”

His gaze was too intense. She couldn’t help but back away when he stalked forward. He cursed under his breath.

“I’m sorry, Jack. I didn’t think of your feelings. I’m sure it hurts to see—”

“It hurts. You have no idea how much it hurts.” He stepped closer and this time, she didn’t back away, remorse and compassion evident in his eyes. “And something else, too.”

Her breath caught.

“All I want to do is strip you down and have your legs wrapped around me as I drive into you.” He grimaced but his look was enough to draw a small gasp out of her. The desire pooling in his eyes was as deep as she’d seen on the boat. “We should finish what we started.”

His words were the secret fantasy she had longed to hear. Only air escaped from her mouth. How had he rendered her speechless already?

“Don’t you think we should finish what we had going on in that limo?”

“Um…” Despite the exuberant “yes” that played over and over again in her head, she couldn’t. She’d solidified that when she agreed to take on this job. But there was also the fact that she was pathetic in the fling department. Been there, failed that. She didn’t think her ego could take another hit.

“Sterling.” He traced his finger along the line of her jaw. “Let me have you.” He reached for her hand, the one that didn’t hold his mother’s shoe.

“I…I’m working for you.” Could they step over the line and continue to remain professional? “It’s a bad idea.”

“Is that what your brain tells you?” He directed her hand to his mouth. “Is that what the other parts of your body tell you?” He kissed each knuckle, slowly, with gentle swipes of his tongue. “I have a feeling you disagree with everything your brain is telling you right now.”

A tiny whimper escaped her.

He stepped a little closer and ran his nose along her neck, inhaling deeply. She shivered at the touch of his lips against her skin.

“Please, Sterling, let me have you,” he whispered. “Let me finish what we started. I can give you so much pleasure. I can help you find what you’re looking for.”

This was the first time a man had ever practically begged to get inside her pants. And how odd that it was coming from Jack, the sexiest, richest, hottest man she had ever encountered. He wanted her. And she just couldn’t believe it.

“Why me?” She exhaled sharply. “What do you want with me?”

“Why not you? You’re a beautiful, sexy woman, and truthfully, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

It didn’t make sense. The girl wearing the khaki skirt and flip-flops didn’t end up with the bad boy.

“You can have anyone you want. Why waste your time with someone like me?”

“You don’t look in the mirror much, do you?”

“Look, I’m going to be working for you and I need…” She stopped herself. There was no reason for him to know she was desperate. That she needed the money. He would probably kick her out of his home if he knew she was the perfect definition of a gold digger—even if she went about it honestly through valid employment. But right now, at this moment, her aching libido didn’t give a rat’s ass about the money. Was it worth the risk of ruining the reputation she’d built?

He grabbed at the neck of his shirt and pulled it over his head.

Sweet. Mother. Mary. So worth it.

He was like a real-life magazine ad. Chiseled, tanned, with a soft sprinkling of dark hair and the tattoos. His left arm was inked from wrist to shoulder. Dark swirls of black, flowers, all interwoven in an intricate design. A panther prowled down his right forearm. Scrollwork peeked up over his shoulder on the right side. Would it be rude to ask him to turn so she could better admire him? Sterling never thought she could like tattoos so much, let alone find them downright sexy.

She’d felt the ripple of his abs under his shirt when he’d pressed her up against the boat. She’d gotten a sneak peek of his ink when he’d rolled up his shirtsleeves to help her pick up the broken glass. But the image she’d built up in her head was nothing compared to the real thing.