The Millionaire Affair(31)

"Planner," she teased with a puckish smile.

"Hey, you bought these. I just put them in here." Because he was a planner.

Condom in place, he took a mental photograph of this moment. He'd never  be able to write another proposal at this desk without picturing Kimber  sprawled across it. Pink, pert nipples, heavy-lidded eyes, her red hair  spread around her head like a deviant halo.

"What's funny?"

"Absolutely nothing." If he was grinning it was because he was happy. Go  figure. He gripped her hips with both hands and slid into her in one  long, slow, smooth motion, encasing himself in her warmth. Back arched,  eyes scrunched, she held tightly to the sides of the desk. And he vowed  to give her a reason to hold on. He drove into her, slowly, deeply,  basking in each keening sound that echoed in the room as she thrashed  and called his name loud enough for the entire building to hear.         

     



 

She was on the edge. He could feel her tightening around him. Palms on  the desk on either side of her head, he switched his angle and she cried  out. But when he would have sent her over, she crossed her ankles  behind his thighs and held him in place. Her eyes were fierce, her lips  full and wet when she spoke. "On the chair."

He damn near came right then.

"That's not on the list." He flexed his hips and broke her hold.

The high heels dug into his ass. "Sit down," she commanded, her voice a breathy, throaty whisper.

"Sounds like a threat." He slid out halfway, clinging to his control while making her lose hers.

"Or else." She gasped, a weak one at that.

He thrust forward, taking his time with each inch, nearly losing it  right then. "Or else what?" he managed despite the slight tremor in his  voice.

"Why don't you sit down and find out?"



Landon stood over her, the look on his face a mix of determination and lust.

All she wanted was for her legs to cooperate so she could make good on  her promise. Since he had laid her onto his desk, she'd been coming  apart at the seams, her mind dancing, her thoughts muddled. But she  didn't want to be sated and as boneless as a jellyfish while he  continued to exert himself. Well …  she did want that, but more than that,  she wanted the position of power.

And right now, she had his full attention. So she was going to take advantage of it.

"On. The. Chair." It was more a sigh than a command, but he obeyed,  sliding from her body on an expelled breath and making her almost regret  her request. He shot her a heated look that said this better be worth  it before pulling the cushy, dark red chair over and sitting down.

This would be worth it; he had nothing to worry about.

Willing her muscles to work, she sat up. The hard surface of the desk  wasn't all that comfortable. Her spine protested, her butt bone, too, as  she pushed to standing. Landon's hands gripped the arms of his  executive chair and a mini boss/secretary fantasy she didn't even know  she had popped into her brain. She eyed the wide seat before arranging  her knees over his thighs, lining up and, without a word of warning,  sliding home.

His head dropped back as his hands clutched her bottom, his fingers  grazing the inside of each cheek. She rocked against him, delighting  when he closed his eyes and gave himself over to her. Low sounds of  pleasure eked from his throat as he lost himself in the rhythm she set.

Using the high back of the chair as an anchor, she picked up the pace.  His hands tightened around her ass, and she rode him until his entire  body went rigid, his muscles turned to steel, and a drop of sweat formed  on his brow. He was trying to hold out, but she wasn't about to let  him. One last pump and he came on a shout, her name bursting from his  lips, his teeth grinding, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

Her orgasm followed; her high cries of ecstasy mingling with his in the  warm air of his office. She'd been trying to make this about him, but  her body greedily took its own release. Unable to support her own  weight, she dropped her arms from the back of the chair and fell against  him.

He turned his head, his heavy exhalations fanning her hair. With a soft kiss against her temple, he breathed her name again.



The sexiest woman he'd ever seen draped over him like a wet towel. Only  Kimber didn't feel like a wet towel. She felt like a warm, sated woman.  Her limbs and soft scent wrapped around him, rendering him useless.

When he'd followed her in here, the goal had been to make her come  twice …  maybe three times, but she hadn't allowed him to get that far  before she'd demanded he sit down and she gave him the ride of his life.

He had no regrets.

Tonight had been a fantasy come to life.

Number eight. Check.

What were there? Two left? Maybe once they reached the end of the list, they could start over at one again. Against the door …

He smiled. He could go for another round against the door.

Her teeth closed over the tendon running from his shoulder to jaw, and  she bit him lightly. "You're tense here," she said against his heated  flesh. She pursed her lips and kissed him gently, soothing the phantom  sting of the bite.

"I don't know how." He was still inside her, his arms lying limply at  his sides. He wanted to wrap them around her, lift her off his lap, and  carry her to the nearest shower. Or to bed. But he couldn't find the  energy.

"Me, either," she mumbled. "This is the least stressful week of my life."

Her delivery was so dry, he laughed, the sound tumbling through his  chest, loosening him more. Being with her was so easy. He didn't  remember ever having been with a woman and it being easy at the same  time. Lissa hadn't been cuddly, and he hadn't, either …  until now,  apparently. All he wanted to do was sit here and continue breathing in  the faint sweetness of Kimber's hair. And he was in absolutely no hurry  to remove her from his lap.         

     



 

She had more willpower than he had, pushing off him. He groaned when the  cold air hit his skin, his eyes still closed, his brain on vacation.

"Oh," he heard her say.

"Oh?" he repeated. A tap on his shoulder forced him to open his eyes.  She stood at the front of his chair, gestured to his lap, and bit her  lip.

He dipped his chin and looked down at the condom. Oh? More like Oh shit.

The latex had broken. Wide open. And he'd stayed inside her long enough to …

Shit. Long enough.

"I'm …  um … " She shook her head instead of finishing her thought, then  pointed to the door and shuffled out of his office. He heard her  footsteps retreat down the hall, toward one of their bedrooms, he  guessed.

He surveyed the mess on his lap again. No good.

Potentially very bad, if he were being honest.

After a brief stop in the bathroom bisecting the hallway to clean  himself up, he checked his room. Empty. He walked the corridor to the  opposite end and entered Kimber's old room. She was in there; he could  hear the shower running in the attached bath.

He let himself into the steam-filled room and refused to panic. Or maybe  he refused to accept the possibility that they'd just made a baby on  his leather office chair. Wasn't like there was a whole hell of a lot  they could do about it now, anyway. The shower in here was smaller than  the one in his room, the air infused with cucumber body wash his  housekeeper must not have thrown out. It smelled like Kimber in here.  Cool, refreshing, sexy Kimber.

"It's me," he announced like a moron. Who else would it be? He parted  the dark blue curtain and found a soapy and very distraught redhead  inside. "Wash your back?"

She smoothed her wet hair and nodded, rivulets of water running down her  face. He stepped beneath the hot, hot spray to stand next to her. "I  hope you're not trying to scald me off of you." He thought he was  kidding, but the words were a lance to his chest.

She shook her head. "I'm not." She braced her arms over her breasts, looking …  well, terrified.

He planted his hands on her arms and rubbed, bending to meet her eyes. Green eyes filled with doubt. With fear.

"What are the odds?" he asked her, a smile plastered to his face.  Because the truth was, the odds were pretty slim with him and Rachel but  she'd wound up pregnant, too. He swallowed a wave of nausea.

This is not that. It wasn't the same at all.

"Slim," she admitted, closing her eyes.

"Take a deep breath for me."

She lowered her arms and sucked in a lungful of air. He shouldn't, but  couldn't keep from admiring her pert pink nipples and the water  streaming off of them. It took everything in him not to put his tongue  on one for a taste.

A bottle of body wash stood on a shelf over her head. He poured some on  his hands and rubbed them together. "One more breath." She inhaled  again, and he put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around,  rubbing the stress from her back and from her arms, kneading the tension  from the muscles in her lower back. Her shoulders fell and she relaxed  into his slow, gentle massage, his touch meant to soothe and pull her  out of her panic.