The #1 Bestsellers Collection 2011(121)

Holly trembled as his hands slid around to the front of her body. One hand stroked upwards to caress her breast, and the other down where it slid inside the sheer lace of her panties and dragged them away to expose the dark coils of hair that led to her private core.

“Y-esss,” the word hissed past her lips as he parted the folds of her flesh and gently stroked the centre of tension that wound her body hard against his like a bow. Unaccustomed sensation cascaded through her, building in undulating waves, but riding on the crest of those waves surfed a flicker of fear. She was losing control, surrendering absolutely to him.

“So do I.”

His words were almost her undoing, yet she clenched her body tight—holding on, holding back, trying to regain some measure of restraint.

Connor slid one finger inside the liquid heat that threatened to send him over the edge. He struggled to meet the challenge of maintaining an intellectual distance from the vision in the glass and the waves of heat and passion that emanated from the woman shaking in his arms—against his insistent body.

Their reflection only served to incite him to a higher plane of need. Her glowing creamy skin fractured by the scanty line of red lace and framed by the darkness of his black suit behind her. The total contrast in their state of dress did nothing to lower the raging want that almost threatened to undo him, to send him uncontrollably over the edge in a way he hadn’t experienced since his early teens.

He focused on Holly’s face and noted, with powerful pleasure, how her eyes glittered. No longer with tears, but with a dark intense blue flame of passion.

With a slick finger he circled the hood of swollen flesh concealing the sensitive bud of nerve endings he knew would send her over the edge. Her breath quickened and the luscious swell of her breasts tightened and lifted as he gently increased pressure.

Her cry of release was a trophy to his ears, and he supported her body against the screaming responsive demands of his own as she shuddered to completion. He felt all-powerful. For the first time in forever, he felt like a man who had it all.

Well, not quite all, he acceded as he slid her underpants further down, exposing the globes of her buttocks, buttocks that as they’d pressed against him had been driving him closer and closer to losing control.

He bent her forward, placing her hands to rest on the surface of his desk, and swiftly released himself from the confines of his trousers. He guided himself forward until his tip nestled at her entrance. He was acutely sensitive, still feeling the tiny tremors that pulsed through her, waiting, holding back until he could hold back no longer.

The guttural cry that ripped from his throat as he thrust forward was as foreign to him as the concept of making love to his PA on his desk, yet for some reason—here, now—it all seemed perfectly right.

She was tight, almost unbearably so, and from somewhere he miraculously found the strength to hold back until he felt her mould to his length, to sheath him with her wet heat until instinct overrode sensibility. Her body stiffened as he drove his full length into her and he reached around again to caress her sensitive nub. Taking the time to bring her to climax again was excruciating, until the rhythmic pull of her inner muscles took him suddenly, gloriously, over the edge.

Spent, mentally and physically, and breathing in great gulps, Connor collapsed over Holly’s back. Bit by bit he became aware of their surroundings. Of the way his body pressed against hers, the feel of her silky smooth buttocks against his groin, her knotted fists beneath the spread of his fingers where he’d imprisoned them against the polished surface of his desk.

His desk.

The distant “ping” of the elevator returning to their floor rudely brought him to his senses. Someone was outside in the main office.

Reluctantly he withdrew from Holly and hastily rearranged his clothes before bending to assist her with the twisted swathe of her gown from where it lay about her feet.

As she slid her underpants back up, Connor caught sight of a telltale stain on her inner thighs. Blood?

“Here,” he said, retrieving a handkerchief from his pocket, “You have your period.”

“No.” Her voice was strained. “It’s not my period.” She shimmied back into her gown, hiding the luminescent glory of her skin behind the rich glowing fabric.

“What?”

“I said I don’t have my period.” Holly smoothed her gown with shaking hands.

“You mean …” Connor was lost for words. She was a virgin? Or at least she had been until he’d taken her like a rutting stag. He grabbed her hand and stopped her as she started to walk away.

“Holly, you can’t just leave. We need to talk.”