Saving the CEO(32)

Once he surrendered mentally, his body took over. Pushing himself up to his knees, he lunged at her, eyes on her mouth—so he didn’t notice her outstretched palm until it made contact with his chest, halting his progress.

“Ah, ah, ah. We’re not done negotiating.”

“Yes we are.” He closed his hand around her wrist and levered it down.

She scrambled to her feet. “Nope, there’s one more condition.”

“A moment ago you were trying to convince me we should do this. And now we’re talking conditions? What did I miss?”

She grinned. “I want to be in charge.”

What the hell? He cocked his head and issued a cool, “Excuse me?”

Her chin jutted out. “Exactly what I said. I want you to do what I say.” But then she lost her nerve and quickly added, “Not forever—or not for our three nights, I mean. Just right now.”

…

Cassie felt powerful. Foolish, but powerful. A pretty weird combination, but she was trying hard to hold on to the powerful part. It was just that now they had essentially decided to spend the next few days sleeping together, her mind had suddenly gone a little crazy with the possibilities. She wasn’t deluding herself. Jack Winter was going to be the best sex she would have in her life—it was never going to get any better. So for the short time he was hers, she wanted him every which way. And though she’d enjoyed last night more than…well, pretty much anything ever, being in this office had planted an idea in her mind. A brazen idea. One that already had her restless and bothered. She tried to explain. “Last night you were sort of…in charge.”

“I don’t remember you objecting.”

“Heck, no!” she exclaimed, a little louder than was probably dignified. “I just want my turn, is all. I want you to sit back and…let me have my way with you.” She grinned at the clichéd phrase, but it was the best she could do.

“And why would you think I would object?”

“Because you’re bossy.”

That earned her a wry smile. “I like to think of it more as being focused.”

“Whatever.”

He held up his hands in a caricature of surrender. “I don’t even know why we’re having this conversation. Because I’m not arguing. And yet we’re arguing. Only an idiot would take a pass on letting Cassie James have her way with him.”

“Oh.” She had girded herself to persuade him and was taken a little off guard by his easy capitulation.

“Let’s go get a cab.” He stood, his voice thick with desire.

“No!” she said, a little too loudly. “We stay here.”

He wasn’t going to like that. Even though Jack Winter was sex personified, she got the feeling he didn’t like the idea of doing it in his office. It would remind him of how much he was breaching his stand against mixing business and pleasure. Still, he didn’t say anything, just narrowed his eyebrows in a slightly annoyed way.

“Sit,” she said, pointing to the sofa.

When he didn’t move immediately, she placed her palm on his chest and gave him a gentle push. He walked backward toward the sofa until his calves brushed against it. Scowling, he sat.

She moved around the room, switching off most but not all of the lamps and enjoying him watching her. He was dying of curiosity, she could tell, but he wasn’t going to say anything. When the room was suitably dim, she took a stroll around its perimeter, letting her hand glide along the cold glass of the window walls. In truth, she was screwing up her courage.

She made one lap, his eyes burning her, though she didn’t spare him a glance. Fake it till you make it. Moving to stand in front of him she said, “Take out your cock.” That was the truth. That’s what she wanted him to do. There was something about just asking for what you wanted, with no apology, that was intoxicating. The telltale ache took hold between her legs.

His eyebrows shot up. She’d ruffled him. Good. He hesitated a bit too long, though, so she put her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrows back at him. After a momentary standoff in which they stared at each other, frozen, he lifted his hips and pulled his pants and boxers down. His penis, freed from its constraints, jumped to attention.

“Now you,” he said, his voice thick.

“Ah, ah.” She held up a finger. “Who’s in charge here?” He scowled but remained silent, so she issued her next order. “Shirt, too.”

Her skin buzzed with victory and anticipation when he obeyed. Jack Winter, naked on the sofa in his office—dang. She had a fleeting notion to take out her phone and take a picture so she could remember, years from now, that this actually happened, but she doubted he’d let her control of the situation extend that far.