The Secretary’s Seduction

by Jane Porter

  "This is a tricky button," she said, her voice breathless, her fingers brushing his bare stomach. His abdomen contracted, muscles tensing at her light touch.

  He could imagine her fingers on him, could imagine her soft hands against his erection and he felt nothing like controlled logical Morgan Grady but another man altogether.

  God, he wanted her. He wanted to touch her, taste her, discover her.

  He hadn't felt this kind of hunger in years. He wanted his palms on her breasts, her nipple in his mouth. He wanted to slide his hands beneath the snug flesh tone panties and cup her bottom. He wanted to touch the satin span of thigh, the warmth between her legs, to make her as hot for him as he was for her.

  "There, got it," she exclaimed, victorious. "Now maybe we can swim."

  She stood up and took a step back, her breasts perfectly round. The moon bathed her in the most delicious white light and Winnie glowed from head to toe. Her hair shone, her skin looked luminous, her shape so wonderfully distinct that he felt like a primitive man wanting a cave, a fire, and his very own woman.

  He could see her stretched out on a bearskin rug; picture her in a soft leather wrap that barely covered those amazing breasts. He'd peel the loincloth from her pale hips and kiss his way from her ankle bone to the moist silk above.

  Morgan shook his shirt off and, standing, he unzipped his khakis, stepping out of them. Now it was Winnie's turn to covertly watch him and his erection grew harder, bigger; his whole body ached.

  He saw her gaze drop to his white briefs. There was no way he could hide his attraction now.

  She bit her lower lip, worried it a little and then her gaze lifted, back to his face. She looked thrilled and afraid all at the same time. "That just leaves the underwear."

  Her husky voice just about did him in. Did she know the effect she had on him? Did she do this to everyone?

  "My turn to go first," he said hoarsely, wondering when and how everything had changed on him. He'd wanted Winnie because he'd thought they'd have a simple relationship, an uncomplicated relationship, but what he was feeling now was far from simple or uncomplicated.

  He wanted her, desired her, cared for her.

  He cared for her.

  Morgan swallowed. Everything was different. Everything was changing.

  As he took off his briefs she slid her own panties off, bending over to step out of one leg and then the other.

  Morgan groaned. She had the most shapely bottom, the fullest most gorgeous curve of breast he'd ever seen on a woman. In the twenty years he'd been sexually active, he'd never been turned on like this.

  Morgan dashed across the sand, waded thigh-deep into the water before diving under the surf. He swam a distance under the surface, arms pulling hard, feet kicking, trying to bum off some energy. The water wasn't cold but it felt significantly cooler than the fire raging inside his skin.

  He was in trouble. St. Jermaine's was far removed from the world outside. St. Jermaine's made anything feel possible. Including keeping Winnie.

  After a moment he swam an easy breaststroke back toward the beach. He met up with Winnie halfway. She was treading water, hair wet and slicked back, shoulders bare, globes of breast barely visible.

  "Feels great out here," she said, arms drawing circles beneath the surface. "It's warmer than I expected, almost like bath water."

  And he could see himself taking a bath with her, bathing her. He could see himself spending a long, long time with her.

  He floated next to her. "I've owned St. Jermaine's three and a half years and I've never done this before."

  Winnie sank a little lower in the water, her chin disappearing. "Why not?"

  "I don't know." He swam closer, lashes lowered as he studied her pale face in the moonlight. "It never felt right before."

  Her lips curved. "And it's right now?"

  It was right, he thought. At that moment, everything felt right. For much of his life he'd felt alone, distinctly cut off, but somehow with Winnie he never felt alone ... or lonely. Something about her made sense to him. Winnie made sense. Even that wasn't rational or logical, simply a gut response. A heart response. Instinct.

  And his instincts were never wrong.

  The moon's reflection glinted off the water, back onto Winnie's oval face, gleaming shoulders, and pale skin.

  He reached out, water running down his arm, and very gently touched her cheek. "Is it possible I've been waiting for you?"

  She was staring straight at him. Her eyes were enormous. Her cheeks darkened, pink slowly staining her skin. "Morgan," she said his name softly, breathing shallowly.

  Her eyes had turned very green, a sage green, and were growing darker by the moment. From the pink of her cheeks to her parted lips, he knew what she was feeling. He was feeling it, too. And he was having a damn hard time keeping his hunger in check.

  "Morgan," she repeated.

  Her sexy pitch turned him inside out. His body strained. His head felt light. He'd never wanted anyone like this.

  "Talk to me," she whispered, as she slowly, tentatively, reached out to touch him beneath the water and her hand brushed his thigh.

  Heat shot through him as her fingers glided over his leg. Hot, sharp heat, and his body tightened all over again, fresh blood surging. He was close to exploding with pleasure and pain. Stifling a groan, Morgan wrapped a hand around her upper arm and pulled her toward him, water swirling between them.

  He hooked a leg around her leg, braced her against his chest, his hands encircling her waist. The water was cool but she was warm. She drew a deep shuddering breath and he could feel her tummy convulse, ribs expanding.

  She'd be lovely beneath him. Lovely on top of him.

  Lovely every which way known to man.

  He drew her even closer, her wet soft breasts crushed against his chest, her nipples pebbled and grazing his own. He wanted to be inside her. He needed her mouth, needed her wet, needed her open.

  She made a soft whimpering sound as his palm cupped her breast, his fingertips massaging the nipple. "Oh, Morgan-"

  "You're beautiful, Winnie. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever known."

  Tears filled her eyes and she pressed her hands against his shoulders. "Don't say that. You don't have to say that."

  "It's true."

  "Annika-"

  "Nothing compared to you," he murmured, sliding his palm up, over the peak of her breast to her collarbone and down again.

  Then he couldn't stand it a minute longer. He had to have her, had to taste her and his head descended, mouth capturing hers.

  She tasted cool and hot, salty and sweet, and beneath the pressure of his lips she whimpered, her hands moving, caressing his shoulders, his chest, his back, his triceps. It was as if she couldn't get enough and he couldn't get close enough and water splashed and swirled around them as their legs twined below the surface, hip pressed frantically to hip.

  "Do you want to go in?" she mouthed against his ear, her hands at his nape, fingers in his hair.

  He loved the way she touched him, loved everything about being with her. "A little way in," he said, and turning onto his side, he swam closer to shore, carrying her along with him.

  Once he could feel the sandy floor, and stand with ease, he lifted Winnie up, parted her legs and brought her close against him. He wrapped her legs around his waist and he cupped her below the water, her smooth round cheeks fitting perfectly in his hands.

  She gasped as he caressed the curve of her backside, fingers stroking out and then in until he found the very hot soft part of her.

  "Morgan," she choked, wriggling against him, "I don't know about this."

  He felt the delicate shape of her, the petal-like lips, the tiny hooded nerve. "You don't like this?"

  Like? Winnie thought, burying her face against

  Morgan's damp warm shoulder, desperate to get even closer. What was there not to like? She felt wild, her senses taut, her nerves screaming. He was making her feel desperate desires. She wa
nted him to touch her. She wanted him to do everything to her. "I think I like it too much," she answered, her lips pressed to his neck, his skin warm and fragrant.

  "I don't know if that's possible, not if you care about the person you're with."

  He was touching her in such a way she couldn't think, touching her in a way that made her breath fast and shallow. His fingers played against her, played her and she felt almost helpless in his hands. "Oh, I care about the person I'm with," she murmured, feeling so much love just then.

  "Good, then you can relax."

  His touch was even more intimate now, his fingers slipping inside her. Winnie's thighs tensed and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her lips parting against the base of his throat. She'd imagined having sex but never imagined anything as seductive as this.

  His fingers inside her made her ache for more of this, more of him. She writhed and he stroked her slowly, deeply and the pleasure was so intense she felt close to tears.

  "Beach," she choked, practically grinding her hips against him. "Let's ... go ... to beach."

  He carried her up in his arms and she was totally without inhibitions now. It seemed right to be naked and hot and craving each other.

  On the beach they discovered a blanket, a stack of towels and two terry-cloth robes. Their scattered clothes had been discreetly removed.

  "Mr. Foley," Morgan muttered, shaking his head.

  "He's very attentive," Winnie said, smiling a little, fighting the nervous urge to giggle.

  "Another sign that Mr. Foley likes you." Morgan lowered her down to the quilted blanket. "He's good with details, but this is a first."

  The blanket felt warm, the sand was soft and inviting.

  Winnie felt comfortable and deliciously languid. "I think like is too strong of a word."

  He knelt next to her. "He was certainly concerned when I returned from the wedding without you."

  She was about to answer when he ran a hand up the inside of her thigh, his hand returning to her inner heat. She closed her eyes, sucked in air, and thought she must be a hedonist because she'd never felt anything half so good and couldn't imagine anything ever feeling better.

  Morgan shifted, parted her knees wider, lowered his body between. Before she fully understood what he intended to do, his mouth replaced his hand, his tongue substituting for his fingers.

  Winnie gripped the blanket, squeezed the quilted cotton in her fists to keep from crying out loud. The intense sensation overwhelmed her. Okay, she thought, trying to catch her breath, this felt even better than the other.

  He was doing something with his hand and his mouth, creating a pattern of feeling, a rhythm within her. She tried to make sense of the tightness coiling in her middle, her belly clenching, her legs beginning to tremble.

  Without changing position, without shifting focus or losing tempo, Morgan placed a palm on her tummy just above her pubic bone. The pressure of his hand coupled with the rhythm of his tongue was quickly building tension, layering sensation on top of sensation like children’s blocks stacking all the way up, past the coconut trees to the starlit sky itself.

  "But wait," she said, her voice raspy in the night, "I want you with me."

  He kissed the inside of her thigh. "I'm with you."

  "But I want it different for my first time, I want you."

  "You might not be able to come. It can be hard for women-"

  "I don't care. It doesn't matter." She reached down, ran her hand across his upper back, his muscles so beautifully hard, his skin silky smooth. ''I'd rather feel you inside me .. .if that's okay with you."

  He didn't say anything. He didn't have to say anything. Morgan shifted, braced himself on his elbows, stretching out over her.

  With his knees he pressed her legs up and wide. His body touched hers. She could feel the tip of him and she sighed. Morgan caught her hands in his, and even as he lifted her arms up, over her head, he thrust smoothly into her.

  Winnie sighed, tightening around him. His hands pressed against hers. He thrust harder, now a little deeper, then briefly stopped. "Are you okay?" he asked, buried all the way in her.

  She couldn't help smiling. Okay? She felt perfect, fantastic. " Yes, oh, yes."

  But he was still concerned. "I don't want to hurt you."

  "You're not, you couldn't, you feel wonderful. Besides, I was ready for you."

  She felt him smile against her neck, then he kissed her most tenderly on the sensitive place near her ear. "I have to agree with you on that."

  What followed was without time, without definition, without words. He was with her, so completely with her that she no longer knew him from her. He touched her and moved with her so that it felt as if they were part of the air, the earth, the sky. Beautiful, Winnie thought, I feel really truly beautiful.

  She gave in to him and the rightness of being together. She gave in to the warmth, the touch, the exquisite pleasure. It was thrilling being so close, healing, too. The energy was intense, the heat formidable. To be held like this, touched like this, loved like this.

  Loved.

  Morgan rolled over, drawing Winnie on top of him.

  She felt naked for a moment, and stiffened. But Morgan caressed her breast and drew her head down and kissed her. "Don't stop moving," he whispered, lips brushing hers. "You'll like this, I promise."

  She wasn't sure, and she felt a little awkward but Morgan clasped her hips and shifted her a little and suddenly it all made sense. The heat was back, the tension building. The self-consciousness receded, the strangeness disappeared. She was his again. He was hers. They were together, neither was distinct, and as she moved against him light flashed against her closed eyes. Hot liquid sun, hot summer sun, red hot, so hot, and Morgan held her tighter, moved her faster. Winnie didn't think she could stand it, the tension growing, her muscles clenching, but he wouldn't let her escape.

  "Morgan-" she choked, the heat so great, her skin so hot, beads of moisture forming everywhere.

  He rose up to meet her, driving hard, fierce, and she couldn't contain it any longer, couldn't control it and with a cry she felt launched into the sun. Waves of light and heat rolled through her, waves of light and heat and pleasure until she shuddered from head to toe.

  "I can't hold on much longer," he said, voice hoarse, muscles knotted hard.

  "Then don't."

  He lifted her off him, drew her down to his side.

  Groaning, he held her as he came.

  Winnie waited a moment before gently touching his face. "You didn't have to pull out."

  He leaned on his elbow and looked down at her, his expression gentle, rueful. He pushed back a damp lock of hair from her forehead and kissed her warm brow. "Yes I did. I really wanted to be in you, but it wouldn't be fair. I'm not about to trap you into marriage."

  She stared up at him, into his eyes. His black lashes were so thick they cast shadows on his face. "You've changed your mind about marrying me?"

  He pulled her back on top of him, slid a hand up the length of her back. "Not at all, sweetheart, but I think you need to live a little first."

  His lips were creating havoc on her skin. His hands were tracing the shape of her spine. Her body was stirring to life again. How could he still make her feel so much? Want so much?

  "Live a little?" she gasped as he drew her nipple in his mouth. The warm wet feel of his mouth, the pointed flick of his tongue was driving her crazy, making her need and want and ache. Her breast ached. Between her legs ached. She was dying to feel him inside her again.

  "Live," he said, his breath fanning her wet breast.

  "Experiment. Do all the things you've always dreamed of doing."

  "I think ... I think ... " she said, voice breathy, faint, as he flipped her over onto her back and parted her knees with his own.

  He smoothed the hair back from her face and trailed his hand from her breast to her belly and back to her breast again, his touch light, tantalizing, maddening. "Yes?"

  "I think I
'm ... " She exhaled as he entered her again, his body so hard, his tension barely leashed. " ... doing them."

  And it was, she thought, as he filled her body, and filled her heart, the most beautiful experience she'd ever known. The reality of making love to Morgan was far better than anything in her wildest imagination.

  CHAPTER TEN

  LATER they put the robes to good use, wrapped themselves in the plush terry-cloth, and walked back to the house.