Читать книгу: «In Bed With Her Tall, Sexy Handsome Boss: All Night with the Boss / The Boss's Wife for a Week / My Tall Dark Greek Boss», страница 6

‘I ate earlier,’ he replied, settling down on the end of the bed.

She couldn’t manage to eat it all, but when she finally sat back she felt a million times better. He smiled at her. She wished he wouldn’t; every time he did her resolve disappeared another inch—make that mile.

‘Now you need these.’ He shook a pill bottle at her.

She frowned.

‘Antibiotics,’ he explained. ‘You have a chest infection as well as the flu. The doctor prescribed these to clear it. So far you’ve been good about taking them.’

‘Doctor? What doctor?’

He grinned at her. ‘One of my mates is a GP. He came round after work yesterday and gave you the once-over.’

That explained the man from the Spanish Inquisition.

‘You were that worried about me?’ She took the dose and washed it down with the remainder of the pineapple juice.

‘I was.’ He smiled, the warmth lightening the atmosphere. ‘Want to stretch your legs?’

She did. She definitely did—stretch them all the way home, or so she ought.

‘Do you have something that I can put over the top of…um…’ Her voice trailed away and she gestured towards her breast with her hand. She saw the flare in his eyes as he followed the movement of her hands and hurriedly put her arms in front of her breasts to try to hide the all too pleasurable reaction there.

‘There was a matching robe.’ He stood and went to the chest of drawers, pulling a long cream-coloured silk robe off the top. ‘I’ll see you in the lounge. You can’t get lost.’ And he swiftly exited the room.

Bit late for modesty now, she thought ruefully as she swung her legs out of the bed. Still, who was she to be concerned about modesty? If she remembered right she was the one who had been on the desk, begging him to screw her in the middle of the office when people had been due back any minute. Had she no shame? Nope, she realised. Not when it came to Rory.

She sat on the bed for a few seconds, making sure she had her strength together before standing. She was still weak and, underneath it all, still tired. But she didn’t want to be lying in bed with Rory lounging on the end of it. That was just too much in the way of temptation.

She pulled the robe around her and glanced in the mirror hanging on the far wall. Her pallor surprised her. And her hair was a mess. She grimaced. What she really needed was a shower. Leaving the room, she discovered Rory was right; she couldn’t get lost. Following the sounds of activity, she passed another door—open, showing the bathroom—and another closed; she guessed it must be his bedroom. She quelled the desire to open it and take a peek.

He was in the kitchen, holding two large towels in his hand. The guy really was a mind-reader. ‘Want to have a shower? You’ll feel better.’

She stopped in front of him and stared. He really did look incredible in those close-fitting jeans and tee shirt. His chest just about took up all her vision, it was so broad. Two towels—one each? Where had her self-control gone?

‘Thank you.’ Her voice was husky. Her body was starting to feel all sensitive again and this time it wasn’t because of the fever.

Slowly he held them out to her, his eyes fixed on hers. Her heart thudded faster. She reached out and took them and looked away from him in a hurry. She had to get out of here or there would be no stopping things. ‘I should go home after. Could you give me a lift?’

‘You’re not going home tonight.’

She’d known he was going to say that. She was also aware she wasn’t going to fight him. Much. ‘Why not?’

‘It’s getting late. You’re still weak. That flat of yours is freezing.’ He’d obviously been storing up a few reasons.

‘I forgot to switch on the radiator,’ she broke in.

‘You’re staying here.’ They stared at each other. His mouth curved into a wry smile and his eyes twinkled. ‘Don’t worry. You’ll be quite safe.’

Yeah, right. It wasn’t him she was worried about. It was her own weak, needy self.

‘I’ll get that other negligee for you,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ll leave it in your room. I grabbed your toiletries bag from your flat; hopefully it has everything you need in it. It’s in the bathroom. I didn’t want to pry so I got a toothbrush and comb from the shop just in case.’

‘Gee, you’ve thought of everything,’ she said sarcastically, still fidgeting with the belt on the robe. ‘Do you do this often?’

He laughed, that open, warm sound that had had her melting on the night she’d first met him. ‘No. Pretty much everything with you is a first.’

She wondered what he meant by that.

She headed for the bathroom pronto.

Just as he’d said, her toiletries bag sat on the vanity. She peered inside it. She always had it pretty well packed—just in case she was hit by a sudden urge to take a weekend mini-break. Just beneath her body spray rested her pill packet. She picked it up. She didn’t take them for contraceptive purposes, having not been involved with anyone since Grant. The little plastic bubble marked Saturday was full. It was still Saturday. She popped it from the foil and quickly swallowed it. A girl could never be too careful.

Stepping into the shower she turned the taps on hot. The pressure was marvellous and she couldn’t resist standing there for long moments letting the water pound on her head and body. It felt so good to get rid of the sweat. She tried not to think about him. Tried to ignore the desire swirling in her belly. It was like trying to stop a tidal wave with a flannel. They were alone. The outside world had disappeared at the door. Just her and Rory. Out of the office and in his home. And she knew and she wanted it to be just so, just for now. She reached for the shower gel—the packaging advertised its therapeutic powers—‘invigorate’. She flipped the lid and caught a whiff of the lemony citrus flavour that she associated with him. The gel lacked the underlying masculine tang that was pure Rory but it was close enough. She closed her eyes as she washed indulging in the feeling she was being enveloped by his presence.

He knocked softly on the door as she towelled dry. ‘Lissa, are you OK?’

‘Fine, I’ll be out in a tick.’

Clad in the second negligee—the same as the first only in a pretty pastel blue—and the robe, she padded back out to the lounge. The flat was marvellously warm. Even her feet, which were usually like blocks of ice, were cosy despite being bare.

He knelt, fiddling with the gas fire. ‘Sorry,’ he said, obviously hearing her arrival. ‘You were a while and I was worried maybe you’d collapsed in the shower or something.’

‘No.’ She grinned. ‘It’s a girl thing. We take our time in the shower. You guys are all the same. Turn it on, jump in, jump out, get dressed without drying properly and it’s all over.’

‘Really?’ He raised his brows. ‘And how do you know so much about it?’

‘Flatmates arguing over the power bill.’ She smiled teasingly and pulled the robe tighter. She had to admit she loved the silky feel against her skin. Smooth and sensual. Its simple design clung to her; she liked the soft rustle as she moved. She knew it had probably been outrageously expensive. It made her feel sexy. She couldn’t help but have sex on her mind. She realised she’d been staring at his jeans-clad thighs. The denim showed off their strong, muscular outline better than his suit trousers. She looked up with a start. She was so aware of him.

‘Could I get that comb? I didn’t have one in my bag.’ Her voice wobbled a bit.

‘Sure. I’ll go get it.’

She expelled the pent-up air from her lungs as he left the room briefly. But her blood started zinging again the instant he returned, comb in hand. Her fingers brushed his as she took it from him. The sensation from that slightest of touches was enough to send a tremble through her. In the hour and a half since she’d woken up her body’s awareness of him had been growing stronger and stronger. Now just the sight of him and the tiniest touch had her craving more. Her breathing shallowed. It was madness to have agreed to stay. But it was a madness she couldn’t stop.

She sat on the sofa and tried to comb her hair. After just a few seconds she felt exhausted from holding her arms up. It was pathetic. He seemed to know. She wondered if he knew everything, if he knew how turned on she was feeling, that his nearness drove her crazy. That he was so damn sexy that she just wanted to reach out and plant her mouth on his. Hard.

‘Here, let me,’ he said in a low tone. He took the comb from her nerveless hand. She turned away from him so she sat sideways on the sofa. He tucked the towel around her shoulders and carefully lifted her hair over it. With long, sure strokes he worked the comb through. The regular rhythm was soothing. Detangling and smoothing.

He stopped and she heard the click as he set the comb on the table. She felt him press the towel on her hair, sponging up the damp. Then he slid the towel away. She sat still, half holding her breath. He seemed to have paused too. And then, just when she knew it would happen, she felt his warm lips on her neck.

Chapter Six

SHE could have stopped what was happening so easily. A look, a word, was all it would have taken. But she said nothing. Her eyes closed, she tilted her head, inviting Rory’s kisses to continue. They did. Slow, gentle, incredibly erotic, his lips inched down her neck. At the junction where neck met shoulder his teeth bit down gently.

A soft moan escaped her and his arms slid round to embrace her. One arm encircled her waist firmly, the other seeking her breast. He caressed her, his thumb stroking around her tight nipple. She leaned back into him. This was what she wanted, more than anything. All her concerns started slipping from her mind. Besides, she reasoned dreamily, they weren’t in the office, were they? It was perfect.

His arms tightened around her and he lifted her up, settling her across his knee as he sat back against the sofa.

She looked up at him as he held her loosely. She could feel his erection pressing against her side. She knew he was waiting for her reaction, giving her the chance to pull away. Slowly and deliberately she licked her lips. ‘Kiss me,’ she whispered, her voice wobbling with the force of the need she felt.

Just as slowly and deliberately he lowered his head. She held hers up, in perfect position. The gentle graze of his lips against hers set her nerve ends trembling. She immediately opened her mouth for more and just as quickly he came back with it. Kisses between them could never be small and gentle for long. Their banked-up passion was too strong to be contained.

She felt as if she could keep on kissing him for hours. Long deep kisses in which she finally had the freedom to explore his beautiful mouth, feel him enter hers and make his claim. But slowly, inexorably, the feeling that it wasn’t enough soared. She wanted more. She moved restlessly. His hands began a deeper exploration of her body. He loosened her robe and pushed it off her shoulders. The thin straps of the negligee followed. She lifted her arms free of them and the soft material slid to her middle, revealing her breasts. With a groan he quickly lowered his head and fastened onto the nearest nipple. Alternately licking and sucking, he created the most exquisite sensations. She watched him through half-closed eyes, turned on even more by the look of intense pleasure on his face.

His fingers trailed up and down her leg, going higher with each sweep, sliding the silk away so her thighs were exposed. Such delicious torment that she squirmed and her legs parted. Finally his hand hit the top of her thigh and slid against her warm, wet groove. She groaned in delight. That was what she wanted, more, more, more.

He lifted his head and smiled at her. ‘You like that?’

Like wasn’t the word. She rocked against his hand. He obeyed her silent order and started a slow, rhythmic stroke. She smiled back at him and pulled his head to hers, wanting to taste him again, feel him with every inch of her body. He trailed kisses over her face, down her throat and over her breasts again before passionately returning upwards to her lips and then beginning again until her face and torso were on fire, and she panted helplessly, unable to move, unable to do anything but revel in the sheer, blissful torture of his touch. His fingers gently circled and stroked until she was slick with moisture and rotating her pelvis against his teasing hand. He muttered softly between kisses. ‘I want to see you come. I want to feel it, taste it. I want to hear you. Come alive for me, beautiful. Come for me.’

It didn’t take long. His words, his lips, his hands, his fingers drove her wild.

‘Rory,’ she gasped. ‘Rory, I want…’ she gasped again, unable to get the words out. Not sure what they were any more. Relentlessly his mouth and fingers drove on, not giving her any respite. Her feet arched and her toes curled as the first shudder ripped through her. Still he worked, sucking, stroking, squeezing. Her body arched uncontrollably again and again as sensation zinged through every cell. He pulled the cry of ecstasy from her with ease.

She stilled. Shocked. Her mind refusing to function. Having felt only ache for the last few days, her body wallowed in the weightless warmth now spreading through. She couldn’t have opened her eyes if she’d tried. She was vaguely aware of his hand gently stroking her arm, her legs, of being held closely to him. A small part of her whispered for more, that there was more to come, but she wasn’t able to focus. Her consciousness floated away.

It was dark when she woke but the room was partially lit with light coming from the hallway through the open door. She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the dimness, her brain reliving what had happened when she’d last been awake. Oh, boy. Aroused again in seconds, she hungered for the main course. He lay next to her, his arm resting on her hip. He breathed evenly but she knew he was awake. She could feel the vitality emanating from him.

She smiled into the darkness. ‘Where am I?’

‘Where you belong.’ His low growl was immediate.

Her stomach swooped. Her pulse stepped up a gear. ‘And where’s that?’ Knowing the answer but wanting to hear it. Wanting to hear the passion in his voice.

‘In my bed.’

A rush of satisfaction pooled in her belly. It merged with desire and she pulled his head to hers, fixing her mouth to his, and passionately tongued him. Nothing else mattered. Nothing but being with him in this moment.

She pressed her body length to length against his and elation filled her as she discovered he was gloriously naked. Hot, hard, huge and finally hers.

She pulled her head back and challenged him. ‘Where’s my negligee?’

She saw the flash of white as he smiled. ‘It slipped off.’

‘You got a thing about stripping me while I’m asleep?’

She felt his hot breath on her as he chuckled. She explored his chest with her fingers, tracing through the hair. She revelled in the feeling of his hard thighs pressing against her. She longed to run her hands over those too and burrowed a little in the bed so she could.

‘I’m sorry I went to sleep on you.’ Her voice was slightly muffled. Her hands crossed over his taut abs and down. She found his nipple with her tongue and worked around it, swirling and tasting.

‘I’m not. It was beautiful. You’re beautiful.’ He smoothed a hand down her back.

‘I’m awake now,’ she said as she reached the top of his thighs with both palms.

‘No kidding.’ He seemed to struggle to get the words out.

Pleased and emboldened by the night, she took him in her hand. She’d only stroked him a couple of times, appreciating his length and girth, when he stopped her, his hand gripping her wrist like a vice.

‘Inside you,’ he muttered hoarsely. ‘I want to come inside you.’ He pulled her back up the bed and kissed her long and hard and deep and when he finally lifted his head she knew she was lost.

‘Then what are you waiting for?’

He growled with laughter and she melted more.

‘I’ve been waiting too long for this to have it over in two minutes.’

Oh. Excitement trammelled through her, an almost nervous anticipation. She didn’t know if she could handle much more. She wanted him now. It seemed as if she’d wanted him for ever. But he was relentless. His hands, his mouth, slowly, reverently, traced her body, igniting tiny fires all over that built and merged and threatened to overwhelm her reason. He tossed the bedcovers back, the heat between them keeping them more than warm enough. She learnt his body as he learnt hers. She gave free rein to all her desires, to touch him, to kiss him as she’d dreamed of night after night. But he soon pulled free of her, groaning as he reclaimed control. Then she could only lie back and let him caress her in ways she’d blushed about when fantasising.

He nipped gently at the smooth skin of her inner thighs with his teeth, then soothed the skin with lush kisses.

‘Rory,’ she whispered brokenly, ‘I can’t take any more.’

‘Yes, you can, beautiful.’ And then he kissed her right there. His tongue hungrily tasted her sweetness, lashing her with its length, his mouth fastened onto her, regularly sucking until her hips arched and her hands fisted into his hair. His fingers came to tease inside her while his other hand tormented a rock-hard nipple.

Her head thrashed and her body shook as she proved her point—her mind and body imploded as the sensations he stirred catapulted her into ecstasy.

He pressed slow kisses up her belly. ‘Are you still with me?’

The power and intensity of that orgasm had far from satisfied her. It had only worsened the unbearable ache in her womb. She needed him there.

‘Make love to me, Rory. Please.’

He stared down at her intently, rigid with desire, and then he kissed her, pressing her head down into the mattress with the force of it. The weight of his body settled onto hers and her excitement level sky-rocketed again. She felt the dampness on his skin and knew he was only just keeping himself in check.

He reached across to the bedside table.

‘It’s OK,’ she said. ‘I’m on the pill.’

‘OK.’ He gulped in a deep breath. ‘You’re sure? You’re sure you’re ready for this?’

She was more than sure and she wanted nothing between them. He moved closer and she could concentrate on nothing else but him. Her ears were finely attuned to his roughened breathing and her own shallow pants. She pulled at him to hurry, but he held back, braced above her, fixing her in place with his beautiful burning eyes. Then, as smoothly as a hot knife sliding through butter, he filled her. Oh, boy, did he fill her.

Finally.

It felt so damn good that for a moment her mind blanked completely as the sensation short-circuited her whole system. She realised the moan of bliss had been hers. She opened her eyes and looked up at him with a slow, rapturous smile. His unwavering gaze beat down on her. She saw the wonder and delight she felt mirrored in his face. She flexed her hips up to him a fraction.

His breath hissed between clenched teeth. ‘Not yet—’ his voice tight ‘—or it won’t be two seconds, let alone two minutes.’

She watched as he fought for control, thrilled that he, like she, had almost been obliterated the instant they had joined together. That he felt the passion for her as strongly as she did him.

Slowly he brought up his hand and stroked her hair, then down to frame her face with fingers that shook slightly. Not taking her eyes from his, she turned a little to press a tiny erotic kiss into his palm. She gave him a saucy grin and saw his serious look lighten in return.

At last he moved. Slowly releasing, then pressing close again. Slow, sure strokes that seemed to break through every barrier she’d thought she’d installed permanently. With every movement he filled her, came further into her, breaking into her heart, becoming part of her. And the thing was, it felt wonderful.

She arched to meet him, length to length, stroke to stroke. She ran her hands down his taut muscles, delighting in the ripple of hardness that greeted her.

Slowly, teasingly, he danced with her, sometimes kissing her, sometimes holding her gaze. She kissed his neck; he kissed her breast. But inevitably the pace increased. So too did the intensity and sheer physicality until at last they were pounding hard together. Over and over they met as one until her mind blanked again as he sent her over the edge. Shuddering, she was just conscious enough to feel his big body spasm as he fiercely gathered her closer, his fingers gripping her to him, roaring as finally he too lost his fight for control.

Sweat-slicked and sated, she slept. Silent in the tight embrace that he’d locked her into once he’d shifted the bulk of his weight off her. Somewhere in the back of her mind the thought niggled that she should be going home. That she should be running, far and fast. But she was tired. So tired. And so content. She would wake, see him, want him, have him and then crash again. She couldn’t remember whether that had happened three, four or five times through the night. All she knew was that it still wasn’t enough. He was a sex god. She’d never experienced such pleasure. Now that she had, she wanted it again, over and over. Just this night, she told herself, just let me have this one night.

In the morning the magic sanctuary of the darkness remained. It was as if a bubble had descended, enclosing them in a world where only they existed. Where doubts and pasts and futures lay forgotten, forbidden. She sat on one of the bar stools at the kitchen bench in her silk negligee, loving the sight of him pottering in the kitchen wearing nothing but a pair of tent-shaped boxers. There was something so decadent about the scene. He cooked her soft, creamy eggs that slipped down her throat. She beamed at him, ignoring the fact that the strap of her negligee had slipped from her shoulder and she was dangerously close to flashing him. When had anyone cooked for her last? When had anyone made her feel so cared for? So cosseted? So loved?

Her smile died as she stared at him, her breakfast abandoned. This couldn’t be love. This was just attraction. That was all it could be. He held her gaze as he tossed the pan aside and came to her, his eyes lancing, exposing her doubt. Then he bent his head and with only a few gentle touches made her forget. Forget her concern, forget her rules, forget the egg. She went up in flames. Hard and fast with her perched on the edge of the bench, him standing before her. Her negligee rucked up, his boxers halfway down his muscular thighs. Then he suddenly scooped her off the edge and took her weight himself, deeper, harder, joyous. It was as if he wanted to support all of her himself, be the foundation from which she could fly.

She leaned against him in recovery, breathing hard like him, still overwhelmed by the tornado-like climax they’d shared. He cradled her for long moments, the after-play of his hands soothing her, keeping the devils at bay.

He picked her up again and carried her to the bathroom. Stood with her under the hot shower, soaping her back, massaging her shoulders. Invigorating was definitely the word for his showers. He aroused her again, slower this time, but no less passionately.

She slipped into the robe knowing she ought to be pulling clothes on instead. But the tiredness controlled her and she pushed the thoughts away, tried to turn the mute button on the doubts whispering at her. What are you doing? You shouldn’t be here. You’re making a fool of yourself—he’ll make a fool of you… She pressed the mute button again. It worked that time. He bundled her up in a soft mohair blanket on the sofa, put a selection of books on the floor beside her and a jug of water. His ministrations were so tender and caring she was afraid to read the motive that lay behind them. No one had cared for her like this, not since her mother had died. Weakly she closed her eyes, blocking out the significance. Seconds later she fell asleep.

‘Lissa we need to talk.’ The sofa had sunk under his weight as soon as her eyes had opened.

‘No, we don’t, Rory.’

‘I think we do.’

‘No.’ She looked at him firmly. She didn’t want this, not now. She just wanted to feel. Just wanted to prolong the magic a little longer before she had to end it for her own protection.

His eyes were full of the unspoken. She allowed herself to indulge for a moment. But those doubts came rushing in. Was this going to be the talk where he made promises? Promises of the kind that Grant had made? As her mother’s boss had made to her? Insincere? Meaningless? She couldn’t trust him. After all, she barely knew him. The weak part of her rebelled—she did know him. She’d witnessed his integrity at work, his drive, his charm. She was in his apartment, for goodness’ sake, something that had never happened with Grant. There certainly was no sign of another woman’s presence in his life.

No. She had to believe this was just a brief moment. A fling. Once she went home, it would be over. She could never have a relationship like this in the office.

She knew he watched her intently as she thought. ‘Lissa…’

Unwilling to listen to what she thought would be lies and too afraid to take the chance they weren’t, she moved quickly to silence him, literally swallowing his words.

Later he went back to the kitchen, bringing her more soup. They ate leisurely and had each other for dessert.

At one point she woke, her body aching but sated. Her head rested on his thigh as he sat at one end of the sofa and she lay along it. Music softly played as he read. A great wave of tenderness bathed her. He was gorgeous. Such a generous lover. She wanted to do something just for him. She smiled a small secret smile. Who was she kidding? She wanted to do it for herself, while she could. She rolled over so she was facing into his body, his crotch in front of her. Before he could stop her she undid his jeans and freed him. He was rock-hard in seconds. She took him in a firm grip, squeezing slightly.

‘Lissa?’

She loved the husky note in his voice. She shushed him. ‘Just let me.’ She leaned forward and began her oral exploration. She heard his book thud on the floor. Then she was caught in her own pleasure of discovering him. She traced the ridge of him with her tongue, closed her eyes and breathed in his maleness. Nuzzling, stroking, she loved the pulsing she felt in response. Her awareness of her surroundings faded completely as she lost herself in the taste, feel and smell of him. With both hands she worked him, keeping him in place as she caressed and kissed and sucked, hot and hard.

‘Stop, stop, stop!’

She finally heard his cries. She glanced up at him.

‘I’m going to come,’ he panted.

She chuckled, her hands continuing to stroke. ‘That’s the whole point,’ and then lowered her lips again and sucked as she would her favourite lollipop. He pulsed and jerked and she revelled in the sound of his harsh groan as he gave her all he had. She loved the power of reducing him to merely a body capable of nothing but enjoying mindless pleasure, the power he had over her. A weekend of physical pleasure, that was all it was, all it could be—right?

Licking her lips, she looked up at him with a satisfied smile. ‘I’m sure it’s good for me.’

‘I know it’s good for me.’ His face was flushed and he breathed hard. ‘You’re going to give me a heart attack if you do that again.’

She pouted.

‘Just warn me next time so I can be ready,’ he explained.

‘You’re always ready.’ She slapped at his chest playfully. ‘That’s what I like about you.’

She yawned and stretched her toes. Turned again and resettled her head comfortably on his lap. Her eyes drifted shut. Warm and snug by the fire, cocooned in his arms, she’d never felt so content.

His amused voice seemed to come from miles away. ‘I thought I was supposed to be the one who rolled over and went to sleep.’