Intimate Exposure
By Portia Da Costa
From the moment Red Webster arrived at executive Vicki Renard’s firm, sparks flew between them. The photographer is supposed to create a company profile for its new owner, but he spends most of his time flirting with her. His sexy teasing infuriates Vicki…and piques a desire to submit to him. His hypnotic eyes promise what she’s been secretly craving: a sexually dominant master, like the ones in her favorite erotic novels.
Investigating his new business incognito, billionaire F. W. Shanley—aka Red—is turned on by Vicki’s fiery personality and undeniable beauty. When he discovers her reading a BDSM novel on her eReader, he knows he’s found a woman who shares his desires and promises to be a challenging submissive.
When Red arranges a weekend at a secluded hotel, Vicki agrees to indulge in no-strings-attached erotic fun. But can she commit to this kind of life with Red when he realizes they can have so much more?
40,000 words
Dear reader,
It’s not that I love winter, but I love some of the things that come with winter. Here in the States, February brings some of the coldest temperatures of the winter, but it also brings the promise of spring right around the corner. So I don't mind hunkering down in my living room next to the fire with a blanket, a kid or a dog on my feet, and a mug of hot chocolate or hot tea (or even a hot toddy) beside me. And, of course, my digital reading device of choice in hand.
There’s something permissive about cold weather that makes it easy to laze away hours at a time reading a great book without feeling guilty, which makes February one of my favorite months. I know I can always indulge in plenty of guilt-free reading time!
This month, Carina Press offers a new selection of releases across the genres to aid you in your own reading-time indulgence. Romantic suspense favorite Marie Force is back with a new installment in her Fatal series, Fatal Flaw. Newlyweds Sam and Nick discover that they won't get the normalcy they were looking for post-wedding…because someone has other plans for them. Also look for author Dee J. Adams to follow up her adrenaline-packed romantic suspense debut with her sophomore book, Danger Zone, which delivers thrills and action.
Two steampunk titles will get your gears whirling in February. Look for Prehistoric Clock by Robert Appleton and Under Her Brass Corset by Brenda Williamson to take you back to a time altered by steam and clockwork. Also in the science fiction and fantasy realm, author Nico Rosso offers up The Last Night, a post-apocalyptic tale of romance, while Kim Knox takes us into the future with her futuristic science fiction romance, Synthetic Dreams.
And for those of you with a yen for the paranormal, we have several authors joining us for their Carina Press debuts. Blood of the Pride by Sheryl Nantus and Pack and Coven by Jody Wallace hit the virtual shelves in mid-February.
Portia Da Costa will heat up your day with Intimate Exposure, a sexy and intense look into the world of BDSM.
Rounding out our amazing and genre-packed February lineup are books from Claire Robyns, Charlie Cochrane, Debra Kayn, Shelley Munro, Amie Denman, Crista McHugh and Susan Edwards, with everything from historical and contemporary romance to m/m romance to a fun romantic caper. February offers a little something for everyone’s reading pleasure.
We love to hear from readers, and you can email us your thoughts, comments and questions to [email protected]. You can also interact with Carina Press staff and authors on our blog, Twitter stream and Facebook fan page.
Happy reading!
~Angela James
Executive Editor, Carina Press
www.carinapress.com
www.twitter.com/carinapress
www.facebook.com/carinapress
Dedication
To the memory of my dear little feline friend, Mulder, now so sadly missed.
Acknowledgements
Many thanks to my friend and critique partner Saskia Walker, for her unfailing support and encouragement, and to Deborah Nemeth, for editorial brilliance.
Contents
Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
About the Author
Chapter One
“Watch the birdie!”
Caught in the act of reaching over to retrieve her e-reader, Vicki jumped, her heart thudding hard as half the blood in her body seemed to flow into her face and turn it bright blushing pink.
Why, oh why did F. W. Shanley’s tame paparazzo—and her own personal devil—choose this very moment to play his candid camera games? She’d been to a meeting first thing and was rushing through the main office, laden with shoulder bag, briefcase and newspaper, and her nemesis had happened upon her at the exact instant her beloved e-reader had fallen out of the outer pocket of her bag on to the carpet. He seemed to have appeared from nowhere and popped up right behind her as she’d swooped down for the e-reader, presenting her bottom, in her slim gray skirt, as a prime target.
Might as well have pasted a Check Me Out sign on my arse.
Snatching up her prize, Vicki straightened up, squared her shoulders and spun around as gracefully as she could, blending the look of unruffled calm on her face with just a smidge of cool disdain. Pretty effectively, to her mind, apart from the still-raging blush.
“Would you be kind enough to delete that one, Mr. Webster. I’m sure it won’t be any good at all for your brochure. I can’t imagine your exalted master and his board of directors will be in the least bit interested in my…my rear end.”
Oh, that wicked, arrogant, mocking face. Oh, that grin, that devilish knowing grin. And oh hell, those eyes, those strange piercing eyes. Their color was like fire seen through brandy and they noticed everything. Not just her arse, but the object in her hand. The amused glitter behind the lenses of his elegant metal-framed glasses told her he obviously knew what an e-reader was, and what it was for.
“Oh, I don’t know. They might love it. I do. And I bet F. W. would too—might be just his thing.” Red Webster’s voice was deep and husky, and it always sounded as if he was just about to laugh. Well, it did whenever he spoke to her, anyway. Letting his large and elaborate camera drop on its retaining strap, he reached like a flash to whisk the e-reader out of her hand. Hampered by her other belongings, she was powerless to stop him. “I’ve got one of these. Great, aren’t they? What are you reading?”
No!
But before she could stop him, he’d flicked the power slider, and the secret of her current reading choice was revealed.
Red Webster’s dark eyebrows shot up, and his weird eyes glittered. He whistled.
“Outstanding. One of my favorites.” He paused, clicking onto the next page, his tongue sweeping his lower lip as if savoring the taste of her embarrassment. “I might have known you were a Story of O girl.”
“Give me that!” she snapped, losing her cool despite all her best intentions not to. Others in the open-plan office were now watching their little drama, always happy to be diverted from minutiae of insurance policies and clauses. Lunging forward, shoulder bag swinging dangerously, Vicki grabbed for the reader—but got empty air while the infuriating Red Webster swerved gracefully to one side like a tango king and swept it from her grasp.
“You’ve got to ask nicely,” he replied, a smirk of pure mirth on his bearded face as he clicked through the pages as if speed-reading. His curious eyes gleamed. “Or perhaps you could get down on your knees and beg me for it? Judging by your choice of downloads, it looks like you might actually enjoy a bit of groveling.”
Vicki took a shallow calming breath. “Don’t be absurd, Mr. Webster,” she
said as lightly as she could, fabricating that unconcerned smile again. She must not let him rattle her.
But something in her tone gave her away. His eyes had been bright before but now they were ablaze, their heat immobilizing her as he stared down at her. Vicki felt sweat pop out along her hairline—and elsewhere—as the moment stretched between them like a tightening wire. More interested faces turned towards them in their immediate area and beyond.
In a very short space of time it’d become common knowledge that she and the visiting photographer didn’t exactly get on, and it seemed that everyone was hoping for a ruckus. People at Wickham-Drake loved such confrontations. Even the smallest spat broke up the routine of office life, with its hours of staring at their PCs, hammering out reports and dealing with the never-ending succession of phone calls.
“But I’m not being absurd. Why else would you own a book like The Story of O if the subject material didn’t interest you?”
Look, you, why don’t you just descend into your fiery lair…or alternatively, just go away.
The words were silent but she had no doubt that the dark, imposing man in front of her still heard them.
“I read all sorts of books, Mr. Webster, and this one just happened to be at a special low price at the moment.” The effort of looking serene made her skin feel tight, as if she’d had a face pack on too long, but when she reached out again for the e-reader, he finally returned it to her. Their fingertips touched for split second and a sizzle of raw electricity seemed to spit at the point of contact.
Vicki suppressed a gasp, hastily stuffing the e-reader and the paper into her shoulder bag, then sliding both that and her briefcase in front of herself protectively.
But she couldn’t protect herself from her imagination. It was as if Red Webster’s touch had triggered a slide show. On the screen of her mind, she saw images. Of herself with this perverse man, kneeling before him as he towered over her, immensely tall and powerful. Kissing his hand, abasing herself even lower, her lips pressed to the surface of his polished riding boot.
Even as the preposterous image flicked out of existence, her sex quickened, hot and full of need.
“No!”
“Are you all right, Vicki?”
His low and already familiar voice was teasing, yet at the same time he sounded concerned. As if he was worried by her sudden fugue and was a kind man beneath all the flirtation. When she dropped back into the real world again, Red Webster was still staring at her, those fiendish, almost unnatural lights dancing in his eyes. Once again, it seemed he could see what she saw, read her thoughts.
“I’m perfectly fine, thank you, Mr. Webster.” She gave him another firm look. “Have you deleted that shot yet?”
Solid black-clad shoulders shrugged, and he gave her a wide admiring smile, clearly enjoying her badly disguised antagonism.
For God’s sake, don’t do that, she thought, alarmed all over again at the effect that even white teeth and firm sensual lips framed in a neat, dark, piratical beard seemed to have on her. Even when he was faking being nice to her, he was a goad and a challenge.
Get lost, you’re not my type. Leave me alone.
She got hotter and hotter as he pressed a series of deft commands on the camera’s control panel. His hands were elegant, but they were large, and he was barely looking at what he was doing. He knew his equipment by pure instinct.
What else came instinctively to those clever, sturdy fingertips?
Panic assailed her along with new mind pictures. She had to get away from Red Webster right now. Or make him get away from her. And yet she moved closer as he held out the camera for her inspection and flicked through the last series of shots on its bright LCD screen.
All was routine. Just photos of the room they were standing in and others much like it. Some shots of architectural features, the unnoticed beauties of the fine old building, hinting at what it had been before it’d been converted to offices. Shots of people busy in their cubicles. People chatting. People using their computers, maybe a bit fed up of the humdrum routine, but basically fairly content with their lots. Which she was, usually, when she wasn’t fending off the attentions of a large, sexy and distinctly mischievous man who seemed to have taken a fancy to her.
“Okay.” She gave him a curt nod, hoping it would dismiss him and she could be off to her own office at the end of the room—the little box that was her perk as a section leader. But Red Webster remained where he stood, lifting the camera to his eyes, making an adjustment, and firing off a run of shots of the general work area around them.
She was compelled to speak, even though she knew it would just encourage him to linger.
“Why do you need so many pictures, anyway? How many illustrations does one simple little review need? You don’t think Shanley’s planning to sell the company on again when he’s only just bought it, do you?” What precisely did Red Webster know about F. W. Shanley III, the new owner of Wickham-Drake, the insurance company for which she worked? After all, he must have met the big cheese when he’d been given his photographic brief. “Or maybe he’s planning to shift us all to some glass-and-concrete block on a commercial estate and remodel this building as his own personal palace?”
Those dark-bright eyes that plagued her so much took on a sudden shuttered look.
The bastard, he does know something.
And yet when the answer came it was bland, noncommittal.
“I couldn’t say. I’m only here to take photographs of the people and the building and do the art design for the report. F. W. likes to have something informative to show the global board when he makes an acquisition, with plenty of pretty pictures in case they can’t read.” He dropped her a wink behind his spectacles, suggesting that he held exactly the same views she did about plutocratic business mandarins.
“Well, maybe if you didn’t loiter around here as much and took photographs elsewhere, you’d have a more representative selection to amuse them. And you wouldn’t be interrupting those of us who have more worthwhile things to do.”
No, why did I say that? Goddamn it.
“Worthwhile?” His eyes narrowed, and there was nothing at all bland about his expression now. It was intense, complex, challenging. He seemed to be asking questions of her on some level that was way beyond verbal. Beyond conscious thought, even. But her body knew, and she was horrified to find it answering.
No! she cried again, but silently, as everything about her stirred. The tips of her breasts prickled against the lace of her bra, and down below, her pussy seemed to ready itself to receive Red Webster’s cock. His decidedly sizable cock. She knew he was big because she’d surreptitiously checked him out when he’d been chatting up someone else at the entrance to a nearby cubicle. His black jeans fit as snugly as sin and didn’t leave a lot to the imagination.
No, no…don’t do this.
Yet her own eyes no longer seemed to be under the control of her brain, and her gaze drifted down towards the crotch area of his jeans.
His package looked solid and promising. Dear God, he might even be semierect right now. In the split second while she waited for him to continue his verbal goading, her head filled with pictures again. Pictures of herself kneeling before him and waiting for permission to uncover his magnificent penis and take it respectfully into her mouth.
“Yes, worthwhile,” she answered crisply, exerting a stringent effort of self-control to banish the outrageous images. “Everyone here is committed to hard work on behalf of our sections and divisions and the invisible control freak. He might be a new boss to us, but we’re all still working just as hard as ever.”
Red Webster didn’t answer for a few seconds but just looked at her, his glowing eyes steady behind his elegant glasses. His face was straight and his body calm, but Vicki knew without a doubt that everything else about him was laughing. Because somehow—inexplicably—he’d seen everything she’d seen in her imagination.
He shrugged, the action causing his broad chest to lift b
eneath his fine cotton roll-neck sweater. The action only accentuated the graceful, massive power of his body.
“Well, if you can call shuffling papers and policies about in an attempt to make some obscenely rich man you don’t know from Adam even richer ‘worthwhile.’” The disdain was on his side of the equation now, and it made Vicki’s hackles rise. Who was he to pooh-pooh wealth? He obviously wasn’t short of money himself. His unrelievedly black clothing might be casual and lived-in, but it was also obviously expensive, as was the deceptively tousled styling of his dark curly hair. And what little she knew about cameras told her that the one slung around his neck was the top of a very exclusive and high-end line. “And old F. W. is your boss as well as mine, you know.”
“How could I forget it?”
A shiver of unease slithered in amongst the hot brew of unwanted sexual feelings. All jobs, including hers, could well be on the line now. The company’s new owner was known for radical shakeups of his new acquisitions. Although to be fair to him, he was also noted for better company pensions and health schemes than many other employers, even in these troubled times. Not to mention generous severance packages and an innovative outreach program to help workers secure new employment.
A benevolent despot was better than an asset-stripping hyena any day, she had to admit.
“Don’t worry,” Red murmured, letting his precious camera swing on its retaining strap as he leaned against her desk, one arm wrapped around his middle while he stroked his bearded chin thoughtfully. “Our glorious leader sees all, hears all and knows all. And he’d never let a beautiful woman like you slip through his clutches. Especially one with such esoteric tastes.”
He nodded towards her bag and the e-reader within. “Your job is safe, Vicki. You’ll be staying here indefinitely.” Something about the way he said that made her feel that her staying at Wickham-Drake indefinitely was a disappointment to him somehow, but that notion faded as he rubbed his hand slowly over his jaw. What would the texture of that soft black beard feel like against her skin? Especially the skin of her inner thigh, for instance, if he were to press his handsome face in between her legs?
Intimate Exposure Page 1