Tempting the CEO(13)

The lobby was a lot busier than when I had left this morning. We boarded a crowded elevator that thinned out as it got closer to our floor until we were alone in it. He grinned at me. “I was sorry to wake up to find you gone.”

“I had a meeting,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest in defense and blocking his view.

“Me too, but if you’d been in bed beside me I’d have skipped it.”

“Well, I don’t have that luxury.”

“You do now.”

We stepped out onto the floor, but when we got to his door, I said, “Look, last night was, er, great, fun…”

His card key worked flawlessly yet again.

“But I didn’t know who you were. And now that I do, I just can’t.”

His smile slipped as he turned the door handle. “Why not?”

“It’s a conflict of interest. You’re on the other side.”

“I own your client now, or I will as soon as the deal closes. So we’re on the same side now, right?” He nudged me into his room, and weakling that I was, I went. He shut the door behind me, shrugging out of his jacket. “Besides, now that I know who you are and I’ve seen you in action, I want you even more. I love intellectual girls.”

“I bet,” I scoffed. “I’m sure you were attracted to me at the ice machine because you saw the native intelligence in my eyes.”

“That and you have big boobs and look like a Victoria’s Secret model. And of course you were in a towel, and who can resist that?”

I shook my head as he wrapped his arms around my waist. “Come on. Once more for old time’s sake.”

“You’re really unrepentant about this kind of thing, aren’t you? What did Bob say? ‘A whiff of you-know-what’?”

“Bob has such a way with words. Must be why I pay him $800 an hour. But sex is sex, Angie.”

“Don’t call me Angie,” I snapped.

“Okay, Suzy.” He pushed my long hair behind my shoulders and brushed my neck with the softest of kisses. My skin tingled as he slipped my suit jacket off my arms and went for the buttons on my shirt. “I’ll make it good. I promise.”

I didn’t doubt it for a second.





Chapter Four

Sometimes it hurt like hell to have professional ethics. But he was, like, kind of on the other side. I doubt my negotiating skills would be sluggish from the additional orgasms he would undoubtedly foist on me, but who the hell knew? There was a reason they made these kind of rules up, wasn’t there?

Besides, somehow knowing who he was—having him know who I was—took some of the lighthearted feel out of the whole thing. That and the fact that he didn’t particularly seem to care one way or the other. He didn’t ask anything more about my real life or my real job or my real anything other than that lame “what about you” back out on the sidewalk. And he dropped that pretty darn quickly at the slightest rebuff from me in favor of checking me out. In fact, he’d done more trying to get to know me when I was pretending to be Suzy. Of course then he’d also been trying to get into my panties.

So what did I expect?

Well, great sex, yeah. But did the fact that he now knew where I’d gone to college and seen me in working mode make me want him to respect me more?

See, this was why I wasn’t good at hookups. He was still reminiscing about my perky breasts—and trying to get another look at them as we spoke, having made short work of the top few buttons on my shirt—and I was hoping he’d ask me what my grade point average had been when I graduated. It was pathetic.

“No.” I meant to snap it out, but it didn’t come out that way. It sounded more playful than I intended it to be. I guess I wasn’t quite on my game after the four or five orgasms he’d already given me last night.

He slid my shirt down my shoulders, his warm, knowing mouth already quite familiar with all the sensitive points on his way down to the curve of my breasts. The hollow at the base of my throat. The soft skin beneath my collarbone. My head fell back, eyes closed, as he lingered at each of them, relearning what made me arch and moan, a flick of his tongue here, a press of his lips there. He tugged my skirt up in back, working in slow arousing caresses up to each cheek of my bottom.

“See? Isn’t this better than brunch?” he whispered.

Oh, God. I could really get used to this.

With a firm pressure, he urged my hips up to meet his, the throbbing I could feel deep between my legs answering the throbbing of his jutting cock. I gripped his shoulders through the expensive silk of his dress shirt and rubbed against him as shamelessly as a stripper pole dancing. He latched onto one nipple still covered by my bra and nipped, and I almost came from that, his erection grinding into me and his teeth scraping my nipple through the layer of cloth.