by JC Harroway
She scrunched her eyes closed, willing the rapture she knew was out there. But it hovered just out of reach, her mind warring with the needs of her body and, for once, coming out on top. Her timing sucked, the need to prioritise answers over her body’s demands.
‘What’s wrong, chérie?’ His eyes cleared. His fingers stilled. He removed his hand from her panties and smoothed her skirt over her hips, hands lingering there.
She looked away. Still confused. Still balanced on a tightrope, afraid to look down for fear of what she might see. She shook her head.
Outside their business deal, she had no right to probe. But their conversation about Isabel and her doubts about the Morris deal dragged up questions.
Did he hate her family enough to deliberately conceal facts about the Morris Building? Her mouth opened and closed. She folded her arms across her waist. She had no right to answers when she herself kept a secret from him. And did she really want those answers when they could mark an end to the best sex of her life?
‘I—’ Her throat scratched. How could she question his motives without telling him the full story of the reasons for their families’ rift? Demand complete honesty from him, while concealing something so enormous herself?
He sighed, adjusting himself before putting his hands in his pockets. When he looked at her again, she shivered.
‘Are you letting me down gently, this time?’ His mouth tightened a fraction, or she might have imagined that because his tone stayed light. ‘Are you done with our little game?’ His neutral expression gave nothing away, as if he didn’t care either way. As if he could walk away, right now. Tonight. No regrets.
But could she?
His hand scrubbed his stubbled cheek as if he was about to say more, but held back. What would he say? We were just fooling around...? Au revoir?
Harley shrivelled inside.
His jaw bunched and then he smiled an unconvincing smile and shrugged. ‘It’s your choice.’ He swiped a kiss over her parted lips. And without a backwards glance, he left her reeling, as confused as ever.
CHAPTER NINE
TRENT BUZZED HARLEY in seconds before she swanned into Jack’s office with little more than a cursory knock. Eight-fifteen in the morning and her eyes sparked with fire, burnishing the green to gold, the resolute tilt to her chin announcing she had an axe to grind.
He rose from his chair and rounded the desk to meet her, his cock twitching at the sight of her all elegant, sexy as fuck and clearly pissed with him.
Could he blame her? He’d thrown down the gauntlet last night then tossed and turned, his mind racing at the possibility this was over. He’d come to know her well enough to see she hid something from him, and whatever she concealed should be none of his damned business. But the hypocrite in him wanted to pry, while keeping his own feelings securely locked behind the fantastic sex.
‘Trent said you were alone,’ she said by way of explanation, not that he assumed for one second she was here for a Monday-morning quickie to start the working week off with a bang. He rested on the front edge of his desk, feet spread and cast his eye over her from head to toe. Her tight skirt outlined the flare of her hips and her nipples peaked through her blouse. Pissed but aroused.
He slipped one hand into his pants pocket, discreetly adjusting his semi. ‘What can I do for you?’ Apart from unzip that skirt and bend that delectable ass over his desk so they could both feel better and delay the inevitable showdown. That he’d awoken alone, a hollowness gnawing at him, had already soured his day.
She held out the sheaf of documents he’d hand-delivered to her store last week.
‘I came to personally deliver these. All signed.’ She dropped her arm, her glare intensifying. ‘Tell me. Did you know the Morris Building was earmarked for demolition a year ago?’ Her chin lifted, eyes sparking as she popped out one hip and stared him down.
So she’d done a little digging. Doubted his motives? Assumed he’d allow their past to influence his business ethic? He bit back the first retort to form on his tongue and stared, poker-faced, until the flush from her chest spread to her neck.
His stomach rolled—he’d known going in they lacked trust between them, but the sting flayed him just the same. He clenched his fist in his pocket—why should it bother him now? Hadn’t he started this as a game of revenge? To show her what she’d been missing? Yes, that had fulfilled his need to control this searing chemistry between them. But could he really say his hands were spotless?
‘You know—’ he rubbed his jaw, fingers itching to get hold of her despite the wall that surrounded her, ten feet tall ‘—I can’t decide whether to kick you out—’ he rested his hands on the edge of his desk beside his hips ‘—or fuck you over my desk until we both have a do-over on this Monday morning.’ A partial lie—his mind already on board with option B.
She gave a small snort, her head shaking.
‘Answer my question.’
Jack pushed away from the desk and strode to her, reaching for the signed Morris contract and flicking his gaze over the first page, which bore his signature and hers. His insides boiled with a sickening mix of frustration and arousal. And perhaps other emotions he refused to dissect.
Slowly, deliberately, he lifted the pages to eye level between them, holding the challenge in her stare with one of his own. He tore the entire document in half, the kick of sick satisfaction stirring in his belly as her eyes widened.
‘Wh-what the...?’ she stuttered.
He returned to his chair via the waste-paper basket, dropping the contract in the trash. He settled back against the leather, willing himself calm. He never lost his unflappable business exterior, his tight grip on control, but dealing with Harley pushed him to his limits. Professionally and personally.
He shrugged, his fingers steepled in front of his face. ‘Without trust...’ a shrug ‘...we have nothing worth having.’
‘So you’re back to refusing to sell?’
She would think that. Another blow to the gut. Perhaps physical communication worked best for them. They certainly had no concerns in that department.
He leaned back in his chair, fighting the urge to kiss her. ‘No. Not at all. I’ll draw up another contract, only this time I’ll put my money where my mouth is.’
She fisted both hands on her curvaceous hips, her lush mouth tight.
‘Or you could just answer my question.’
‘My actions speak for me, chérie. Consider that contract null and void.’ He rubbed his jaw with a sigh. ‘To reassure you, Ms Jacob, the Morris Building is sound. The previous owners saw more value in the land than the old building.’ The moment’s hesitation flitting across her face gave him no satisfaction.
‘I had planned to renovate that building myself, until other projects demanded more of my time.’
She dropped her defensive stance but kept him on the hook.
‘You perhaps should have mentioned that to a prospective buyer.’
He tilted his head, conceding. Fuck, she was magnificent—smart, determined, taking no bullshit.
‘I didn’t set out to dupe anyone.’ Only to use their mutual attraction to level the score—not his finest moment. But he couldn’t tell her that. Because admitting she’d hurt him nine years ago took this...fling way out of the realms of casual sex. A place he never set foot.
‘That information is public record. You perhaps should have had your team unearth information that’s clearly there for anyone to see.’
She flushed and he winced. Fuck, he’d wondered about the quality of her lawyers, but she’d take that as a personal attack. He softened his tone.
‘I’ll make you another deal.’
What was the real issue here? Her checks and the documentation he’d provided with the sale agreement would have highlighted any major structural issues with the building. This, her doubts, her easily undermined
trust, went way deeper.
Prying again? What did it matter if she didn’t trust him? And why did he want to crawl out of his skin right about now?
‘I’ll sell the very sound Morris Building to Give, if you bring me on board to renovate, pro bono.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘That’s completely unnecessary.’
Not to him. ‘The price of my integrity is worth ten times that to me.’ And the price of your trust.
Fuck—there it was again. He’d always known she’d held back. And he didn’t need her trust outside the bedroom. He focussed on her wary stare, refusing to dissect his motivations.
‘Would I sell you a dud building and then attach my name to the development?’ The irony that if she agreed they’d be in partnership together on this deal, just as their fathers had been all those years ago, made him wince. Only the stakes seemed to soar much higher. And for Harley...? He had no clue where her head was. Only her body.
She regarded him for so long, he expected her to walk out. And then her shoulders dropped by the merest fraction. ‘I don’t think you’d sell a dud.’
‘And yet you doubted me anyway?’ He shouldn’t care. But a vice constricted his chest. Yes, their families were enemies. Yes, he’d initially sought payback for the way she’d callously abandoned what they’d had nine years ago. So he’d toyed with her a little, used their chemistry to show her that he was twice the man she’d discarded... But now...?
He swallowed, throat tight, too terrified to go there.
‘I—’ She mashed her lips together as if she feared what would emerge. Hiding something herself?
‘Nothing to say?’
Emotions flitted over her exquisite features, a battle raging within. Her shoulders dropped and her guard followed until all that remained was the stark honesty and candour he’d seen every time they’d connected physically. But he longed to see it outside the bedroom, too.
With a sigh, her words rushed out. Heartfelt, stripped bare, and setting off a tidal wave of relief through his body. ‘I want you.’ A small shake of her head. ‘I’m not ready for this to end.’
So she didn’t trust him fully, but she wanted him anyway. Euphoria pounded inside him, flooding his muscles until his body screamed at him to act. To remind her how good they were together. How much better things could be...
No. This was all there was.
While he stood mute, pushing aside his own dangerous thoughts, Harley kicked off her shoes, tossed her purse on a chair and began unbuttoning her blouse.
His cock surged against the front of his pants. Barely nine in the morning and he seriously contemplated fucking her in his office? His mind filtered through his calendar for the morning—nothing that couldn’t wait.
Without waiting for his reaction, Harley locked the door she’d stormed through only minutes earlier and sauntered his way, hips swinging as she crossed his office on stockinged feet. She perched her delectable ass on the edge of his desk between his spread thighs. With a little shimmy, she’d lifted the figure-hugging skirt to mid-thigh and he got a glimpse of lace-topped stockings.
Fuck. He was so done for. Although this form of communication, all they had, worked for him, part of him, the small niggle at the back of his mind, for the first time, entertained the possibility of more.
He came to his feet and Harley yanked on his tie, pulling his mouth down to hers. She took, pressing her tongue into his mouth with a whimper that pounded need through him. But that part of him held out for more.
He’d had his revenge; he’d proved to her again and again his worth as a lover. But he was nowhere near done, his need for her evolving, morphing, transforming.
He kissed her back, ignoring the ‘why’ in his head. He’d draw out her faith piece by piece if he had to.
His hands grasped her hips and he slid her ass forward to the edge of the desk and onto his rock-hard erection.
‘Do we have a new deal?’ He wouldn’t let her hide. He ground his hips into her, one hand cupping her breast, his thumb honing in on her puckered nipple. He wasn’t her toy, available to scratch any itch she might have. If she still wanted to play, he wanted her assurances, her belief in their professional partnership at a very minimum. A starting point.
Her head fell back. She spread her thighs wider, pressed her heat closer. ‘Yes. I’m sorry.’ Her sincere stare burned into his while she waited, poised, like him, on the edge of a new precipice. But he was as powerless to this physical need as she seemed. He slanted his mouth across hers, pouring his passion, his honour, his commitment into the kiss that stole a throaty gasp from her throat.
She loosened his tie, undoing shirt buttons with impatient hands. His hand slipped between them, his fingers probing beneath her drenched panties. He found her clit, primed and plump, and rubbed the pad of his thumb there as he tore his mouth from hers and said, ‘Do you trust me...to help you build your school?’ Fuck, what was wrong with him? Why push this? She was ready, begging him.
Her hips jerked and she reached for his belt.
‘Yes.’ Her mouth traced his jaw, his neck and between his pecs. She groaned, her face buried in the hair on his chest. ‘Yes, Jack, I do.’
Appeased for now, he ripped at his fly, the scent of her arousal as potent as the hit of his morning coffee, his stamina at its limit.
‘Quick... Hurry.’ Her frantic hands freed him from his boxers, shoving his clothing over his hips as she returned her mouth to his with nibbling kisses that drove him perilously close to the edge.
He left her briefly to stride to his personal bathroom and locate a condom. When he returned, tearing into the foil with his teeth as he crossed the room, she’d shimmied out of her panties and lifted her skirt to waist height.
Her sophisticated look would be ruined, but she didn’t seem to care, any more than he cared that her ass was crushing some blueprints and his laptop was at risk of hitting the floor.
Within seconds, he filled her and they groaned together, chests heaving as if they’d held their breath for too long. The rightness of it, of her, made his head swim—euphoria or trepidation? He couldn’t tell and didn’t want to look too closely.
As he pounded them both to a torrid climax that left Harley wailing loud enough for the whole building to hear, he made himself a vow to discover what she held back. He didn’t stop to question his own motives.
* * *
Two days later Harley wished Belinda goodnight just before closing time, her mind, as always, on Jack. He’d flown to Paris the day she’d confronted him about the Morris Building, a prior business meeting requiring his attention. He’d made sure to send the revised contract over before he’d left, along with a personal note that left her reassured and cranky at the same time.
Looking forward to our new working relationship. I have to be back in Paris in a week but hope to begin on the Morris plans before I leave again.
The more she thought about him, the more restless she grew. Had this, somewhere along the way, shifted from just sex? Every time he popped into her head, her chest pinched. Every text alert sent her heart rate soaring and then plummeting, and she counted down the hours to his return tomorrow.
She braced herself against the bite of the evening chill as she stepped out onto the street. Then she came to a halt.
Jack stood at the kerb, leaning up against his car with his phone in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other. Seeing her, he quickly pocketed the phone and strode in her direction, his grin lighting her up inside as much as the sexy smoulder coming from his eyes.
With a certainty that stalled everything but her thudding heart, she had her answer.
‘Bon anniversaire, ma belle.’ He handed her the flowers and swiped a cold kiss over her mouth, one that finished all too soon.
She swallowed, throat tight.
‘You remembered my birthday?’ A flush warmed her from insid
e while her head whirled. She was never more certain of anything—she’d fallen for him. How had that happened, and what did she do with the information?
He tilted his head in that French way. ‘Of course.’
He’d never given her any indication he wanted more than sex. His cynicism about his sister’s happiness, the impact his parents’ divorce must have had on him and the demise of his father’s business, confirmed he shared some of Harley’s own reservations about relationships. But the look he shot her seemed to peel back her layers until she stood before him, exposed.
Memories of her seventeenth birthday surfaced. They’d been at her parents’ house in the Hamptons. Jack had waited until everyone else was occupied in various parts of the house before suggesting a walk on the beach, where he’d not only presented her with a book on the life story of Coco Chanel, one of her favourite fashion heroines, but also kissed her for the first time. She still had that book on her shelves at home.
She pressed her tingling lips together.
‘How long have you been waiting?’
He stepped close, his hand on her waist as he looked at her as if he wanted to devour her, right here on the street within gawping distance of half of Manhattan.
‘That doesn’t matter.’ His eyes searched hers and she blinked, uncertain what he saw and unsettled by the probing depth. ‘Do you have plans?’
She shook her head. She’d celebrated with Hannah and Ash last night. All she’d planned for tonight was food, a bath and sleep. But now Jack was back a day early...a birthday girl could find some energy for whatever he had in mind.
His lips grazed her temple as he scooped his arm around her and huddled her into his side, away from the wind.
‘Send your driver home. I want to feed you and fuck you in that order. I missed you.’
The return sentiment bubbled up from her throat, but she swallowed it back, too terrified to let the words free. Because, for her, the words now came with feelings. And feelings changed everything. They carried added responsibility.
The weight of the secret that wasn’t hers to tell pressed her into the sidewalk. She should tell him, before she fell deeper? Before too much time passed and he’d never be able to forgive her for concealing something so momentous.