The Tycoon's Temporary Baby(41)

Just when she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, he focused his relentless attention on the tiny bundle of nerves so central to her pleasure, stroke after stroke, until she could hardly catch her breath. Then she felt his hand at her entrance. One finger, then two, plunged into her. She dropped onto her back, arching off the desk. As her climax crashed over her, she cried his name.



It felt like more than five years. Maybe his whole life he’d been waiting to see her like this. Spread out before him on the very desk that had so often been between them. She was the most delectable treat he’d ever sampled. Hot and moist with desire. Trembling from the aftereffects of a climax. His name still a whisper on her lips.

Now, here she was. Just like he’d always wanted. And he couldn’t find a damn condom.

He had them here. Somewhere in the desk. Because he’d known for years how much he wanted her. And that some day he might act on it. Hell, there had been no “might” about it. With only the slightest hint of interest from her, he’d have acted on it. She needn’t have stripped naked for him here in his office, though that certainly had been a dream come true.

And now he couldn’t find the damn things.

He pulled one drawer out completely, dumping the contents on the floor. And then he did the same with the next drawer. And the next. Finally he found them, just when he thought the sight of her might make him come in his pants, just when his erection was twitching with the need to be inside of her.

When she saw what he’d been looking for, she was as eager as he was. He ripped open the package with trembling fingers, even as she unbuttoned his jeans and shoved them down around his hips. Then a second later, he was inside of her, her legs spread wide, her arms outstretched as she leveraged herself against the desk. Her hips bucked off the surface as he plowed into her over and over again. The feel of her body clenching around him was exquisite. The taste of her, still on his lips, was divine. But it was the sound of her cries of pleasure that sent his own climax rocketing through his body.

He knew in that moment, that he wanted her—just like this—forever. And that scared the hell out of him.



As soon as Wendy was able to move again, she sat up, pressing her face against his chest and wrapping her arms around him. She breathed in the musky scent of him. Relished the feeling of his taut muscles beneath her fingers and of his warm skin beneath her cheek. She wanted to sit like this forever, wrapped around him. Clinging to him. Her body still thrumming with pleasure. The feeling of complete and utter contentment cocooning her from the rest of the world.

But the world was out there and it wouldn’t stay away forever. So when he stepped out of her embrace, she let him go, when what she really wanted to do was hold on fast.

She moved slowly, pulling her bra back on and then her shirt. Her fingers were still fumbling with the buttons when he spoke.

“This can’t happen again.”

Her head whipped up and she stared at him. He’d turned away from her, but she could read the tension in his back as he zipped up his jeans. “Why not?”

“It’s not a good idea.” His voice was terse.

She felt that tension like a solid wall between them. She could feel him building it up. One brick at a time. One brick with each word. Part of her screamed that this wasn’t the time for an argument. That the more they talked about it, the higher the wall would become, but she just couldn’t let it go. It wasn’t in her nature to back down from a fight.

“Not good for whom?” she asked.

“For anyone.” He paused, then turned back to face her. His gaze drifted to her shirt, which hung open, her fingers having stilled midway up on their progress. “I’m afraid it’ll be bad for you.”

“Um, then you weren’t paying attention,” she said snarkily as she hopped off the desk. “Because that was extremely good for me.”

She was naked from the waist down. True, her shirt was long enough that it hit her mid-thigh, but she still felt extremely exposed. Twenty minutes ago, before he’d rocked her world off its axis, that had been a good feeling. Now, not so much.

She swiped her tights off the ground, uncomfortably aware of how his gaze followed her every movement.

“Exactly. And good sex is addictive. You’ll have a problem with that.”

That cool, clinical tone of his made her blood pressure creep up. How the hell did he sound so calm? So rational?

“What kind of problem am I supposed to have with this…this extremely addictive sex?” And damn it, her tights were inside out. She rammed her hand down one of the legs, trying to snag the ankle hem so she could right them, but anger made her clumsy.