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The Magnate's Manifesto(36)

By:Jennifer Hayward


She didn’t know who kissed who first. It was unspoken communication, her hands cupping his jaw, devouring him, while his found the belt to her robe, untied it and pushed it off her shoulders. She moved into him until her bare skin was molded against the hard muscles of his chest, tasting him, knowing him, until she wasn’t sure where she started and he ended.

“You are so beautiful,” he rasped, his mouth leaving hers to trail a path of fire down her throat. When he hit the ultrasensitive spot between her neck and shoulder, she gasped and arched to give him better access. He took full advantage, nuzzling and exploring until she dug her hands into his shoulders and demanded more.

He drew back and took her in. Color swept every centimeter of her skin. “We can’t do this. You are my boss.”

He shook his head. “It’s never been that simple with us and you know it.”

“Jared…”

He slid a finger underneath the spaghetti strap of her nightie and slipped it off her shoulder. Her heart pounded in her chest as he weighed her breast in his palm and learned the shape of her. She could have pulled away then, should have pulled away, but the want in her shocked her, the fact she’d never let a man touch her like this becoming inconsequential somewhere around the time he took her inside the heat of his mouth and her knees went weak.

The rush, the sweet, all-encompassing rush knocked her brain sideways. She buried her fingers in his hair and closed her eyes. And for once in her life just let herself feel. Want. He slid his jean-clad leg between her thighs and brought her closer. He was hard and rough against her sensitive skin and it excited her beyond belief.

She moved against him and whimpered. “Jared…”

He slid the strap off her other shoulder and flicked his tongue over her engorged nipple. Gave her what her husky entreaty hadn’t been able to verbalize. And the unfamiliar throb inside her reached a fever pitch.

Somehow she was in his arms and he was striding across the room to the sofa in the lounge. He sat down, wrapped her legs around him and brought his mouth back to hers in a red-hot kiss that pulled her under again.

She should have been alarmed at how fast things were moving, that they were moving at all given her lack of experience, but somehow with Jared, it felt so right. She buried her mouth in the hollow of his neck and explored his musky, salty, utterly male scent.

He found the hem of her nightie and pushed it up. Her gaze tracked his movements as he trailed his fingers over the concave dip where her hip met thigh.

“You are all woman,” he murmured huskily.

“Too much, I’d say.”

He shook his head. “You are perfection. You know what I was thinking that night you asked me to choose the shoes?”

“What?”

He trailed his fingers along the edge of her panties, down to where she was on fire for him. “This.”

His whispered answer sent a shiver down her spine. Her stomach curled into a hard, tight ball as he brought his thumb to her center and rotated it so achingly slowly she thought she might go up in flames.

“I thought that if we’d been on a date,” he continued huskily, “I would have kept you there until I’d made you come…at least twice.”

She lost her composure then. “Jared—”

He put his fingers to her mouth. “Better late than never, don’t you think?”

Having never had an orgasm in her life, Bailey couldn’t answer that question. And good thing she didn’t have to, because Jared flipped their positions then, went down on his knees in front of the sofa and lifted his gaze to hers.

“Spread your legs for me, sweetheart.”

Her pulse went into overdrive, tattooing itself against her veins so hard she thought she might pass out. She didn’t know it was possible to feel so turned on and so excruciatingly self-conscious at the same time, but the blazing heat of his deep blue gaze spurred her on. Lustful. Full of want. Nothing she wasn’t ready to give.

Her thighs fell apart. He worked his palms up the inside of them, arranging her to his satisfaction until she couldn’t look anymore and closed her eyes. And then his hands were under her hips, urging her forward; his mouth was hot against her center, burning a trail against her damp panties, and Bailey forgot her name.

He tugged off her underwear with an impatient movement, setting his mouth to her heated flesh, where she was wet and wanting him. Hot, sweet pleasure coursed through her, curled her toes.

“Beautiful, you are so beautiful,” he murmured against her skin. “Twice might not be enough.”

She closed her eyes. The hot slide of his tongue against her made her whimper. And he did it again and again, varying the pressure and rhythm, asking her how she liked it. She gave him rational, honest responses at first. And then she started shaking and needing something more and she begged him to shut up.