Mason sat back. “Me and Miss Anderson? Wouldn’t you like it to be just Miss Anderson? Wouldn’t that be much better?”
The aggression in his tone caused Lorenzo to tilt his head, staring from Mason to her and then back again, ending with a smirk for Mason as he finally understood the undercurrents and a look for Camilla that made his previous facial dalliances tame by comparison, eyebrows raised and nod employed along with a knowing look.
She flushed despite not wanting to. Only upside was she didn’t feel like smiling. She dropped her gaze.
“Ah, you are a lucky man, Mr. Talbot.”
She pursed her lips, and Nigel, as a Brit, probably not even understanding the undercurrents, said, “If you don’t feel it’s necessary to go on a plant tour at this time, Mr. Talbot, you certainly are free to make that decision, but if your attorney goes, I will have to accompany my client.”
“Lorenzo wouldn’t want you there, Nigel, any more than he’d want me there, right, Lorenzo?” Mason asked.
The other man shrugged.
“All right, that’s enough,” she said quietly, sticking to the point. They could pull their dicks out and piss to mark their territory later. “It’s premature to take a plant tour or even discuss one. I need a moment alone with my client, please, for us to, ah, finish the discussion we were having. And I assure you we will discuss purchase price if it’s merited, all right?”
Lorenzo, still smiling, sauntered out, Nigel closing the door behind him.
When they were alone again, she turned on him. “That whole exchange was getting ridiculous. Is this how you plan to conduct yourself for the duration of my employment? Because I’m not finding it very promising.”
“What about you? Is this how you plan to act?” he fired back.
“Yes. I’ve done absolutely nothing unprofessional in this meeting. You’re the one who’s practically sending up smoke signals to that sleazy guy that we’re fucking. Get a grip.”
He grabbed her arms, leaning into her. A grip all right. She had forgotten how literal he was.
“No, I mean—”
“I know what you mean. Tell me you’d never consider being with him, somebody like him. Or somebody like Nigel, or fuck, anybody!”
She stared at him and he loosened his hold.
Dusting her knuckles against the hollow of his cheek, she thought how beautiful he was, how real, despite all his faults, or maybe because of them. Nothing like the sleek image of a man that Lorenzo seemed to be trying so hard to project. “No, I don’t want anyone but you. That’s the truth.”
He held her face in his hands, tucked a stray hair behind her ear. They were within inches of each other, so close she could feel his breath. Almost close enough to kiss. He looked at her lips and ran one thumb softly against them. “Then whatever you do, don’t turn me away, Camilla.”
She was the one who moved closer. Her lips crushed against his, her pulse beating wildly, and her tongue sought his.
With a groan, he cupped the back of her neck, bringing her further into the kiss, yanking the clip that secured her hair so it came tumbling down around them, his other hand busy caressing her throat, and then her breasts through the silk of her blouse, each sweep of his hand setting her on fire. They moved to standing as one, and he thrust his leg between hers, as much as her skirt would allow, causing a sensation as evocative as if he’d entered her, his erection, heavy and substantial, prodding her between her legs.
“I want you,” he murmured, bending her backward toward the table as they kissed.
As hot as that simple statement made her, she had not forgotten where they were.
“I don’t think…” she tried to get out.
But through the haze of pleasure, he positioned her until the marble table was level with her bottom and then hiked up her skirt, the rasp of his hands urgent.
Oh, Jesus.
He was drugging her with long, deep kisses that felt as if they were reaching into her heart. He managed to place his hands on her everywhere at once, fondling her sensitive breasts until her nipples were aching, yanking down her panties to her thighs so she was bare to his caresses. He divested her of her suit jacket and top, the collarless stretchy cotton not much of an impediment to him, shoving it up, and pushed aside the cups of her bra to place his hot lips on one nipple, teasing with his tongue, and then the other, licking, sucking.
She groaned at the onslaught of pleasure, the rush of it so unexpected, so inappropriate. “We can’t…we shouldn’t…Mason, no.” Her voice got firmer. “Not here.”
She put a palm to his chest, pushing lightly, and it was enough to back him away, as if he finally came to himself. Straightening, he ran a hand through his hair. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”