“No, no.” Honey shook her head. “I’ll be fine.”
“I’m serious—”
“I’m serious, too.”
“But you were clearly anxious. Jumpy.”
She hesitated, then her mouth curved in a tiny smile. “I was sitting pretty close to you.”
Oxygen backed up in Walsh’s chest. Oh. He had no hope of holding back his grin. “So it was me, and not air travel…?”
She nodded, those new curls bouncing around her pink cheeks. “But that’s over now. All will be fine when we’re back in L.A.—I promised you that.”
But they weren’t in L.A. now—and they didn’t have to be over quite yet. Not when paradise still surrounded them. Their bubble.
And looking at her, he wanted to indulge her, spoil her, make this last night the best one yet. And then he remembered what she’d said after their first time together.
I’m not sure I could be…like that with anyone but you.
He knew what to do. Blood rushed to his cock. It felt strangled by his clothes, and he didn’t hesitate to reach down and adjust the thick length. Honey’s gaze dropped to his hand. Color flushed the skin he could see between the lapels of her terry robe.
“Am I still the boss of you?” he asked, his voice soft.
Her blue eyes found his. She swallowed. The atmosphere in the room electrified, and he held his breath.
Honey hesitated another long moment, then, nodding, got to her feet.
The pressure in his chest lessened. He’d told himself he needed to ease off when it came to her, and more fun and games would be the perfect way to release the rest of his tension.
“Come here,” he said, holding out his hand.
Her gaze didn’t leave his face as she moved around the desk. It was so quiet in the room, the sound of her long robe’s hem dragging across the area rug could be heard over the gentle shush of the surf spreading on the sand just beyond their villa.
When her cool fingers touched his palm, he enclosed her hand for a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll need the tie to that robe you’re wearing.”
Her body went rigid and her eyes widened.
“Unless you’d rather I cut up your swimsuit like I promised.”
A brief hesitation, then her free hand fumbled with the knot at her waist. Lust surged through him.
“Very good,” he told her when she passed it to him. He didn’t dare look at her body, some of its nakedness exposed by the parted sides of the terry. “Wrists together, in front of you, please.”
The request, expressed with polite detachment, had her breath hitching. But she did as instructed, and adrenaline shot through his blood, her trust as potent as any over-proofed liquor.
His cock went rock-hard and his balls began to ache. His need to fuck her was already raging through him.
But the boss wouldn’t show her any of that. Keeping his cool would only make her hotter.
He heard her swallow as he wound one end of the tie around her wrists, securing them together. It still allowed a long tail of fabric that he let drop. It brushed against the mound of her sex, and he saw her flinch at the soft contact.
“Are you all right?” he asked in concerned tones. Oh, she was, he was sure—it was just that her body was humming, already super-sensitized. “You look like you…hurt.”
“Kiss me,” she whispered.
There was nothing he wanted to do more. Leaning down, he angled his head and met her upturned mouth. His lips were gentle on hers. She made a low sound, then shifted nearer and clutched the front of his shirt with her fingers.
Instantly, he moved back and brought her hands down by grabbing the dangling end of the tie. “You’re going to cause wrinkles.”
“You should take it off,” she suggested.
“Now don’t rush the game, darling,” he said.
Then he brought her close again by pulling on the tie. He kissed her once more, sliding his tongue along her lower lip. Her mouth opened and her tongue greeted his, warm and wet and so yielding that he felt another shot of lust rush through his system.
He explored her mouth, her taste sweet and addicting. His free hand cradled her jaw, and his fingers caressed the soft, heated skin of her cheek. His mouth found its way there, and then he trailed it down her neck, feeling her body begin to tremble. He tightened his grip on the tie and let his other hand cup her breast.
She stilled as he thumbed the tight nipple, and he straightened to watch her as he toyed there. Her eyes were downcast, her gaze on his big hand playing with her tender flesh. All that sleek skin and rosy nipple made him ravenous, and he wanted to lick, suck, bite, but he held himself in check.
When he caught her peeking at him through her lashes, he gave her his best courteous smile. “Yes?”
“More,” she answered simply.
“In good time,” he said, his tone arrogant. “When I want.”
A shiver wracked her body. Then it froze as he tweaked her nipple, twisting it a little, then letting it go.
Her lips moved, mouthing another word. Please.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, and bent his head to suck on that sweet bud. His tongue swirled and flicked, and then he was sucking again, taking it deep into his mouth. She moaned and her legs shifted closer together.
Instantly, he released her nipple and shoved his foot between hers. “Keep them apart, girl.”
She looked at him, her expression helpless, her eyes dazed.
Throwing her down on the bed right this instant was an acute temptation, but playtime wasn’t over. He wasn’t ready to come, and he wasn’t ready to let Honey come, either.
“I want to taste you,” she said.
Oh, hell. His head dropped back, and he pulled in air through his nose. That was the quickest way for him to lose his resolve. Her sweet mouth engulfing his cock. Clearing his throat, he shoved the image from his mind. Another found its way to front-and-center.
“Maybe later,” he said, drawing her toward the bed with the robe-tie tether. Then he pulled back the covers. “Climb on,” he said, helping her onto her back.
He stared down at her. The robe was sliding off her shoulders and bunched around her knees, but now was not the time to release her from his bonds. Instead, he drew her arms over her head and knotted the material around one of the slats in the headboard. Her eyes were saucers and her chest rose and fell with unsteady breaths, her breasts half-obscured by the disheveled robe.
He decided to do something about that.
Taking his time, he re-arranged the material, spreading the sides to fully reveal her body. Then, starting at the hem, he rolled up the robe in the direction of the pillows, until it was a thick bolster beneath her hips, tilting them to just the right angle.
Standing back, he inspected his work.
She was breathing faster.
“Relax,” he murmured, then bent over her bare breasts and licked a nipple, wetting it before moving on to the other. She arched and moaned and, still dressed, he kneeled on the mattress to straddle her body as he continued to tease her, working her nipples until she chanted his name. When he bit down on one, his teeth administering just the edge of pain, her hands jerked, the knots limiting her movement.
“Oh, God,” she moaned. “Please, Walsh.”
The plea jacked up the temperature in the room, and he rolled off the mattress and stripped his shirt away. Then his fingertip traced a line down her torso, around her navel, and to the apex of her cleft. Her legs fell apart
“I’ve been waiting for just that invitation,” he murmured, then returned to the bed and moved between her thighs, prepared to feast. She made another little pleading noise, and he glanced up.
“Such a pretty girl,” he said. “With such a pretty pussy. I can’t wait to eat you.”
Her folds were juicy and sweet, and he closed his eyes, inhaling her fragrance and relishing her taste. His palms kept her legs spread for him as he tongued her folds, exploring her private, pulsing inner flesh. She was moaning, cal
ling his name, but he ignored her appeals. Once, he looked up and took his mouth away.
“Shh,” he told her, gripping her thighs harder with his fingers. “This is for me. I’m doing this how I want.”
Liar. He wondered if she realized her every twitch and sound and heavy breath was really controlling the action. He monitored her arousal by the flush on her face and the tightness of her muscles. Her belly was taut and quivering when he finally turned his attention to her clit. As he tongued it firmly, he worked three fingers into her tight, wet channel.
She arched, her heels digging into the mattress, the back of her head pushing into the pillow. Her body began to shake, and he didn’t let up, instead coaxing every last swell of orgasm from her. When she finally quieted, he slid his hand free from her and pressed kisses up her damp torso. Then he worked the knot around her wrists free.
Her arms dropped to her sides, and he massaged the muscles, appreciating her sated expression. Finally, her eyes fluttered open.
“Walsh,” she said. “Wow.”
More than a little smug, he smiled, wondering if he’d rendered her boneless.
Then, in a surprise move, she jackknifed up and pounced, taking him to his back.
He found himself surrounded by a gleeful and determined little body. “My turn,” she said, her hands at his shoulders, her cleft wet against his gut.
Raising one brow, he didn’t let his autocratic attitude drop.
“Girl…” he warned.
Her expression softened, she dropped her head, then gazed at him through her lashes, the flirt in her finding its way out again. She licked her lips. “Please…sir?”
“Scamp,” he said, laughing.
She laughed too—a giggle really, that he loved hearing from his trusty admin—and then she scooted down to kneel at his side while he made quick work of the rest of his clothes. He lay back against the pillows, two bunched beneath his head. She studied his cock, and at the rapt expression on her face, he thought he just might explode.
It made him take back a semblance of control. He slid one of her hands under his hip and pinned the other to his thigh with the flat of his palm.
“Now,” he said, cupping the back of her hand and directing it lower. “Lick me. Suck.”
She shivered, then her warm breath bathed his skin, and she was doing as she’d been told, licking, sucking, driving him mad. His fingers twisted in her hair to keep her curls off her face so he could see the show—her reddened lips and her hollowed cheeks. He swallowed his groan, and as his lust coiled in his belly, he wondered if she knew how good she was at the game.
She was winning.
He wondered if she realized that with her mouth on him she had all the Monopoly money in the bank, all the green houses and the red hotels. And just for another slide of her slick tongue on his hard flesh, he’d award her all the tokens, too—including the terrier and the top hat and even the fucking shoe.
And as the cum rocketed up his shaft and she resisted his efforts to pull her off his raging dick, he wondered if she knew…
If she knew she was everything.
The orgasm took him down like an undertow, and he didn’t fight the riptide of pleasure that pulled him away, far and fast, from that sudden, sobering thought.
Chapter 11
I’m a goddess, Honey told herself, as she smiled at the server trundling the room service cart into the villa. The handsome young man seemed to agree, because he returned her smile and cast her an appreciative glance as he passed. Nothing too forward, just the right amount of admiring.
He sent her another similar one over his shoulder as he went out the door.
Walsh prowled from his room at the same moment.
“What the hell was he looking at?” he demanded as the door shut behind the other man.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, bustling over to the cart to remove the metal cover from a plate. “Breakfast smells good.”
And she felt good, like she might be able to sprout wings and fly off into the blue sky, touring over the golden sand and beautiful ocean just outside the patio doors.
“Since when have you become a morning person?” Walsh asked, still sounding bad-tempered.
“I’ve always been a morning person,” Honey said, taking a second look at him. In light khaki slacks and a black silk, short-sleeved shirt, he looked sophisticated and powerful and totally out of her league.
Her mood tried to lower at that, but she reminded herself that for three days that hadn’t been the case, and those three days, darn it, had changed her in a happy way.
“Come eat your food before it gets cold,” she told him.
He seated himself at the table. “Where’s yours?”
“I’m not hungry.”
His head came up and he gave her a disconcerting study. She refused to fidget under his intense gaze.
Then she couldn’t stand it any longer. “I’m not some gadget you need to figure out.”
She’d seen him do that before, tinker with the malfunctioning toaster-oven in the company lunchroom or fix the broken window lever on her car. She knew it relaxed him, but she didn’t want to be the focus of his attention at the moment. Their personal time was over, and she was busy resurrecting if not all, at least some of her defenses.
That was only smart, considering they were returning to their professional relationship.
“I like the dress,” he said, his tone turning mild. He picked up his coffee.
“Thank you, and you should like it, since you picked it out.” The sundress was one of the items from the boutique. “When we’re back in L.A., you can give me the receipt for the things you bought, and I’ll reimburse you. As a matter of fact, if you have it now…” The dark look gathering on his face gave her pause. She scurried to her laptop. “Never mind.”
Whether they were purchased by Walsh or not, she was happy to be bringing the new clothes home. Maybe shopping wouldn’t be such a chore if one was bent on selecting bright colors and filmy lingerie. At the idea, she perked up a little more. Cool…perhaps she’d gained a new hobby.
One more thing the long weekend had given her.
“Anything…sore?”
Her gaze swiveled in Walsh’s direction, then jerked back to her laptop screen, completely avoiding her wrists, which had so securely been tied. To the bed.
“Huh? Oh, um, no. Certainly, um, not.” Unfortunately the days away hadn’t eradicated her tendency to blush. She could feel her face beginning to burn.
Not that she was ashamed or anything about yesterday evening. Walsh was a fine lover—
Oh, who was she kidding? He was smokin’. Inventive and amusing and accepting and arousing, and about a million more adjectives that she could name. Most importantly, he’d shown her how to enjoy herself in bed. Her inhibitions and hang-ups hadn’t found space on the mattress once he was on it with her.
As she’d said after he’d given her that incredible orgasm—a memory she’d replayed practically all night long—wow.
“You’ll tell me if you have any problems?”
She flicked him a glance. “I have a car reserved to drive me to the airport tomorrow. I’ve already checked in for my flight. There isn’t going to be any trouble.”
“I meant any regrets. Remorse. Uncomfortable thoughts you might have.”
Uncomfortable thoughts? Uncomfortable thoughts because her big bad boss had been attracted enough to play sweet and sexy fun-and-games? He’d liberated her.
Why, for the first time in a long while she could imagine herself acting with abandon with some man. He’d be a dark-haired, dark-eyed, heavy-shouldered god of a guy who’d say just the right things to flip her switch. She’d drop her fears and ultimately her entire guard, and she’d give her heart to him.
An ominous chill trickled over her skin. Honey leaped to her feet and moved quickly about the room, searching for anything Walsh might have left behind. Searching for something that would redirect the dangerous t
urn of her mind as well.
“Is this your pen? No, it’s mine. How about this mother-of-pearl bracelet? No, obviously that’s mine, too.”
She was acting like a spooked, silly goose.
And she couldn’t seem to help herself.
Because suddenly she felt this…this worrisome sense of loss.
Everyone got maudlin at the end of a vacation, she assured herself. And remember, she still had another twenty-four hours to enjoy. Perhaps she’d spend all day on the beach. Walsh hadn’t asked her to attend any of the consortium’s scheduled events in his place. She was free…and free of him.
On the other side of the room she sensed him getting to his feet. Good. It was time for him to leave. And then she could be alone and think goddess thoughts about herself and also fantasize about some dark-haired, dark-eyed, heavy-shouldered man she might find—
“Honey.” Walsh put his hands on her shoulders and turned her toward him.
She stared up at the dark-haired, dark-eyed, heavy-shouldered man whose bed she would never play in again. They’d both made promises about that.
But the heat of his hands felt so familiar and familiar too was the jittery response of her nervous system and the traitorous goose bumps that rose on her skin. She remembered that Dayna had said a fling with him was the sure way to get this crush out of her system, and obviously that hadn’t worked just yet. But by the time she was home, surely, surely she’d be cured.
His hands slid to her neck then up into her hair. He tilted her head back, his thumbs brushing the lobes of her ears. She fought off a shiver.
“I’m sorry we had to cut this short,” he said.
“Don’t be. This is good news for the business.”
He nodded, then sighed. “I wish…”
She wondered if he could see all her wishes on her face. He’d have to be blind not to…or willfully so.
Wishful Sinful (Rock Royalty Book 5) Page 16