Tempted by Her Billionaire Boss(28)

He cupped her jaw in his hands. "You make me want you. Need you. Crave  to be with you. I don't do relationships. That's why I walked away. Not  because I don't have feelings for you."

Having his hands on her again felt so good. She wanted to purr into him  like a cat. Her gaze held on to his. "Maybe you don't know what you're  capable of."

"Even if I was," he said harshly, "you are goodness, Frankie. I am the darkness. I would only drag you down there with me."

She moved closer because she was melting inside. "I can handle myself quite nicely, Harrison. I did the other night."

He looked down, as if he was studying the heat drawing them together.  "You can't handle my life as it is. With Leonid. Siberius. I could be  walking into a whole other playground in a few weeks, one I'm sure you  couldn't handle."

A presidential campaign. Rumors had been swirling all night about it.  Everyone expected him to do it. But she didn't care about that. She  cared about the man.

She swallowed hard. "That night at your penthouse...I've never felt like  that about anyone. I've never had that kind of a connection with  anyone. It was-" She shook her head, stumbling over the words. "My  feelings are scaring the heck out of me, too, Harrison. I don't know how  to handle them. But I won't deny them." Her gaze clung to his. "You  said I make you feel alive...you make me feel alive."

His gaze darkened. He was silent for a long moment, long enough for her  to hear her heart beating in her ears. "You'd be smart to walk away. If I  don't break your heart now, I will later."         

     



 

"You don't know that." She stepped closer until the heat of their bodies  melded into one another. "There are no sure things in life. You can't  insulate yourself against pain. It's impossible."

She thought she might see a flicker of awareness in his eyes. That she  was right. That he'd been locking his feelings away for far too long.  Her heart thrummed in her chest as he brought his mouth down to brush  against the corner of hers. "There are far better bets than to take a  chance on me. I'm not going to lie."

"I don't think so." Her soul reached out for his. "Let yourself go. Follow your instincts. I'll jump if you will."

He murmured something unintelligible against her mouth. Sparks flew  between them, their bodies too close, too aware of their wanting not to  seize it. Take it. His mouth shifted to cover hers more fully. She moved  into him, like water finding a path again. After the uncertainty of  this past week, she wanted comfort. She wanted to know she was right.

He kissed her hard, his mouth hungry, lacking in finesse. She had pushed  him out of his comfort zone. His hands moved restlessly down to shape  her breasts, the curve of her thighs through the silky material of her  dress. "You look so good in this," he muttered when they came up for  air. "I almost knocked Coburn senseless."

She smiled against his mouth. "He was provoking a reaction."

"He succeeded." The hand that shaped her hips pulled her hard against  him. His arousal lay between them, potent and ready. Frankie gasped.  "Harrison."

He grabbed her hand and walked toward the boathouse. She tugged on his fingers in a halfhearted protest. "Not here."

"You wanted me to go with my instincts. Live with it." He pulled open  the door and tugged her through it. The interior of the boathouse was  dimly lit, wooden seating surrounding the empty slip where the water  slapped against the boards.

"Isn't everyone supposed to be down here soon for the fireworks?"

He backed her up against the wall, his gaze dark and dangerous. "We have  a good twenty, twenty-five minutes. More than enough time."

Fire raged in her belly, a forbidden, excited pull tugging at her insides. Really? He was really going to do this?

"People saw us leave." She attempted a last-ditch effort at sanity.

He pushed the straps of her dress off her shoulder and put his mouth to  the rounded curve. "This would not be the biggest scandal in history.  Trust me."

That didn't actually convince her, but his hands peeling her dress to  her waist distracted her enough that she forgot all about it. She was  braless beneath it, the style making undergarments impossible. His rough  rumble of approval reverberated through her head. He cupped both  breasts in his big hands, bending his head to capture one in his mouth.  His lips and tongue played with the hard peak until it was distended and  throbbing. Until she was aching inside. Then he switched his attention  to the other.

His palms made a foray under her dress and pushed it up her thighs. Her  silk panties were a mere wisp of fabric under his heated gaze. He left  them on and dropped to his knees. His rough command to hold her dress up  was all that proceeded the hot possession of his mouth on her.

Oh, dear God.

Frankie leaned back against the wall, hands clutching her dress, eyes  closing at the long, lush strokes of his tongue. Her fingertips dug into  the wood on either side of her. His strokes moved deeper, came harder.  The only sounds in the boathouse were her breath coming in quick pants  now and the water slapping against the wood.

"Harrison."

He nudged her legs farther apart with his elbows. His big hands held her  thighs wide as he took her apart with deep, urgent strokes. With a  tunnel-visioned focus on the throbbing center of her that shattered her  completely. Her moan as she came was so loud in the echoing space, it  froze her in place.

What if someone had heard?

Harrison rose. His expression was beyond caring, beyond anything except  his end goal. He picked her up, braced her back against the wall and  released himself, his strength, the bulging muscles of his biceps as  held her in place, a massive turn-on. He moved the fabric of her panties  aside and notched his erection into her hot, aching flesh. A low groan  tore from his throat. "Please tell me you're protected." She nodded, not  sure she would have stopped him even if she hadn't been. She was that  far gone.

He buried his face in her neck. Took her with a forceful thrust that  stole her breath. She pressed her head against the wall. "God-that's..."

He withdrew and thrust into her again. And again. She dug her nails into  his biceps and held on. She wanted everything he had to give her, every  piece of the wildness, because it gave her hope he could let go. That  he would give in to the magic that was them.         

     



 

Strain wrote its way across his face as he increased the pace, chasing  his pleasure. Frankie brought his mouth down to hers. "Now."

He took more of her weight in his hands, ground his hips against her  until his movement set her flesh on fire. She writhed against him,  helped him reach the spot she needed. He didn't stop until she groaned  in his mouth and sensation ripped her apart again. Then he tightened his  hands around her hips and found his release. Hot, hard and  uncontrollable, his orgasm sent a flood of warmth through her. It was  the most complete she'd ever felt in her life.

It was long seconds later, minutes maybe, before either of them moved.  Harrison let her feet slide to the floor, his face buried in her neck. A  thin layer of perspiration blanketed his brow. Her heart struggled to  find its normal rhythm.

Voices outside ripped them out of their stupor. Her heart crashed against her chest. Oh, my God.

Harrison recovered before she did, pushing her dress down over her hips  and sliding the straps over her shoulders. "Fix your hair," he muttered,  reaching down to make himself decent. She moved her hands up to smooth  it but so many curls had escaped, there was no way she was getting it  back the way it had been.

The voices got louder. They were directly outside. She threw Harrison a panicked glance. "I can't fix it."

He ran the back of his hand over his brow. "Forget about it. It looks windswept."

He straightened his jacket and reached for her hand. "The side door. We can slip into the crowd."

They exited the door, emerging into the cool night air to find most of  the party had moved down to the shore for the fireworks. Any hope she  had of stealthily merging into it was crushed by the appearance of  Evelyn Grant, a frown on her face, Coburn directly behind her. Coburn's  eyes went to her hair, which was always perfectly in place. Widened.  Then it traveled to Harrison who looked utterly cool and collected.  Coburn's gaze dropped lower. Frankie's followed. Oh, dear lord, no.  Harrison had a dirt smudge on the knees of his trousers. Both knees.

Coburn turned away. Frankie saw his shoulders shaking. Evelyn Grant  waved a finger at her son. "Honestly, Harrison. The only thing I asked  you to do was round up people for the fireworks."

He lifted a shoulder. "Frankie hadn't seen the view. Apologies, forgot all about the time."

Evelyn's mouth pursed. "Can you at least ask them to start?"

Harrison kept her by his side as he walked over and gave the  instructions to the crew. He tucked her in front of him, arms around  her, as the fireworks exploded across the sky, crackling into a  starburst of red, blue and white, the brilliant stars falling down  around them. She leaned back in his arms. The dazzling display felt like  a stunning new beginning of something. Harrison lowered his mouth to  her ear. "We made better ones."