Boardroom Sins

by J. Margot Critch

  “We don’t exactly have an audience, like I know you want.” His voice was hoarse, heavy with lust. “But maybe next time.”

  “Next time?” she breathed, throwing back her head, exposing her throat, where he kissed and nipped at the sensitive skin there.

  He raised his head, looking at her. His eyes darkened to indigo-colored pools. “Oh, yeah. You’d better believe there’s going to be a next time.”

  Rebecca sat on the counter, her thighs bracketing his hips, completely open, surrendered to him as she watched his eyes take in her still-clothed body. He was exploring her, using the image of her for his own pleasure and giving it in return. His palms found her breasts again and he squeezed. Her nipples—stiff, needy peaks—protruded through the thin lace of her bra and the silk blend of her dress. Through their impatience, some of the buttons of her shirt had come undone, and her open shirt was as much an invitation to him as were her parted thighs. He pushed her shirt aside, ducked his head and, through the lace of her bra, trapped one of her turgid nipples between his lips. Rebecca cried out as his tongue flicked the bud through the material. She knew each of the noises she made urged him on as they always had. He increased the suction and pressure, and she bucked against him. Wanting—needing—more.

  His hands rested on his belt buckle and he loosened it, then lowered the zipper of his pants. When he reached into his boxer briefs and pulled his dick out, her eyes widened, anticipating what it would feel like to have him fill her again.

  “Condom?” she breathed.

  He nipped at the base of her jaw, then reached into his back pocket and withdrew his wallet. He took out the condom. “We’re covered,” he murmured against her skin.

  “Convenient.”

  “I put it there after I saw you at the party. I knew I’d have you again. I knew the occasion would arise.”

  “The opportunity isn’t the only thing that rose,” she said, grasping his cock with her fingers. He moaned out a chuckle against her skin, and his breath warmed her as he went about nuzzling, kissing, biting the heated skin of her throat and shoulders as he rolled the condom over his rigid length. The stubble of his five-o’clock shadow scratched against her skin like sandpaper, but she didn’t care. He grabbed her hips again and pulled her to him until the stiff column of his cock met her pussy. He held her in place, but she strained against him, hoping to speed up. But he held her still, teasing her, sliding himself over her bare flesh. Nudging along her lips toward the slick, needy flesh of her core. The delicious friction of his cock skating over her clit was wonderful, and it caused her to cry out. It took only a few strokes to bring her to orgasm, and she came, a bright light flashing behind her eyes. Arching her back, she pushed against him. But he kept up the same motions, staying with her until she quieted.

  “Oh, God,” she whispered, her breath as shaky as her body while she came down from her orgasm. He hadn’t even entered her yet, and she was completely at his mercy.

  “I’m not done yet,” he promised, pushing his cock into her in one smooth, solid thrust.

  He filled her completely, and she gave a loud yell. She felt herself grip him, squeezing him, and the sensation attacking her already-wrought senses was almost too much for her. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer as she inhaled the leathery scent of his cologne. It was heady, masculine, but it paled in comparison with the innate scent of him. He surrounded her, taking her over so that she could barely think. Instead, she let instinct take over. Accepting him, lifting her hips, meeting his every thrust. He moved his hips back and forth, driving into her, a dance they knew as well as any other, and she surrounded him in turn, pulling him in. She felt the tension tightening like a spring inside him. Her breaths quickened and his movements become more frantic, and from the way he ground his teeth, she knew he was close.

  For the second time that evening, Rebecca came, throwing her head back against the cupboard door behind her. Brett’s hips pumped quickly, until he stilled above her and let go with a loud grunt, burying his face in her hair.

  With Brett’s weight and warmth pleasant against her, Rebecca sighed as her arms circled his neck, holding him in place. They were both silent for a moment, fighting valiantly to regain their breaths. Rebecca couldn’t move. She was paralyzed by both the postcoital haze and lethargy that came over her, but she was also trapped by Brett’s grip on her. She found it tough to form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence. So she didn’t even try. She closed her eyes and just focused on breathing and the bliss of their encounter, before the real world came back to them.

  The calm lasted only a few seconds, and Brett pulled his face from the spot between her neck and shoulder to look at her. For a moment, she saw something, a familiar glimmer of what they’d sometimes shared after sex—a nearly imperceptible moment of intimacy—but then his eyes hardened and he pulled away from her, taking several steps back, putting physical and emotional distance between them. He exhaled a rough breath as he drove his fingers through his hair, pushing it off his forehead.

  Not sure if her knees would support her, she lowered herself from the counter, using the hard surface to support her weight as she straightened her clothes. Brett quietly disposed of the spent condom and zippered his pants.

  Her senses restored, she felt deflated, disappointed. She’d meant to come here and appeal to Brett to stop the takeover of her business, but her hormones had gotten the better of her. When he turned back to her, his posture was rigid and hard. His mouth set firmly. She narrowed her eyes in response and squared her shoulders, trying to retain some semblance of dignity and normalcy, and she finally remembered why she was there.

  She cleared her throat. “So I’ll ask you once again to reconsider your takeover of Daniels International.”

  He shook his head, not taking his eyes from her. “Not a chance in hell.”

  “Then I guess we have nothing else to discuss.”

  “I guess we don’t.” He busied himself with some papers on his deck, not looking at her. “You can see yourself out.”

  She gave a short stubborn nod, more of a quick dip of her chin in his direction, and left his office. The floor of Collins/Fischer was empty. Of course it was—it was well past business hours. Thankfully no one was around to catch her “walk of shame.” She stopped midstep. She felt worn but energized, disappointed in herself for not sticking to her guns but fulfilled after the best sex she’d had in half a decade. But did she feel shame?

  No. “Fuck that,” she muttered to herself.

  She quickly found the public elevator—not the private one she’d taken to the floor with Brett—and stepped inside. She had to figure out a way to undermine Brett’s takeover. There had to be some way that didn’t involve her actually being in the same room with him. She clearly couldn’t trust herself around him, and she shivered as she remembered the feeling of being pressed against him, taken by him, filled by him. It had been incredible but so not good for business. A shiver danced up her spine, and she looked at her reflection in the mirrored interior of the elevator, seeing the rash on her throat where his rough stubble had scratched against her. Yes, there had to be another way. But she needed a shower first. As long as she could still smell him on her skin, she wouldn’t be able to think about it.

  After exiting the building, Rebecca looked up and down the street in search of a cab but saw none. She tapped open the Uber app on her phone and was about to find a ride when a black luxury town car pulled up to the curb in front of her and stopped.

  The driver stepped out. “Ms. Daniels?”

  “Yes,” she answered apprehensively.

  “My name is Evan. Mr. Collins called me to meet you out here. He wanted me to make sure you got home all right.”

  “Oh, really?” A laugh stuttered out of her chest. Brett hadn’t been too worried about her well-being when he’d coldly dismi
ssed her from his office. “I’ll get a cab, thanks.” She looked up and down the street and found it dead quiet, almost impossibly so. Not one cab in sight. Great, the one time that there isn’t any traffic around here.

  “Ma’am,” he replied politely. “Mr. Collins asked me to drive you home.” He came around the car to her side to open the rear door for her.

  Before she got in the car, she looked up at the large high-rise behind her, and her gaze went straight to the top floor. Where Brett’s office was located. She could see that the lights were still on in many of the windows, and from her vantage point, she couldn’t see in any of them. But part of her was aware of Brett’s presence, watching her get into the car that he’d called for her, and the driver he’d managed to summon within minutes of her leaving his office. So, feeling saucy and ready to take him on, she smirked up at the building, held up her middle finger in a salute to her former lover/new business rival and stepped into the car.

  * * *

  After watching Rebecca leave with his driver, Brett pushed himself away from the large window of his office. He was tense, but still he laughed, pretty sure that he hadn’t imagined her ladylike parting gesture. He passed his desk, where the offer letter and information pertaining to the takeover sat. Rebecca was a complication he didn’t need. He couldn’t fulfill his dreams in this town with her nearby. His attraction to her had always been too heady—he’d never been able to control himself around her. Even as he’d hated her, competed with her for grades, he’d never been able to deny her when it came to sex. He couldn’t risk letting an affair muddle his brain with the local competition.

  He’d come too far to lose everything he’d worked for. As a teenager, he’d found himself caught in a whirlwind of impulses and behaviors he’d felt too hopeless to control. He remembered the feeling of losing himself, the fear he’d never be the same again as the drugs and alcohol took hold of him, even as he craved more. He never wanted to be there again. It was his parents who had pulled him out of it, and the confidence he’d gained by becoming sober, by saying no to his addiction, had fueled him through college and shaped the man he was today and who he hoped to become. He had to stay on track until he got there.

  But being with Rebecca again was... Fuck! It was fantastic. She was everything that he remembered and more. Her every movement, her sound, her scent. It had been deeply buried within him, ingrained on his soul, and in one day, one three-minute fuck, a moment of weakness, it all came rushing back. He never ran his business with his emotions—or his dick—and never mixed business with pleasure. He took a deep breath, hoping to break her hold on him. There was no way he could manage the takeover if he didn’t keep his libido under control. “That was a one-time thing,” he told himself as he headed for the elevator that would take him back down to the main floor of Di Terrestres. “Fuck,” he bit out, stabbing the button with his finger as the doors closed. The woman clouded his head, destroyed his focus, ruined his plans. He had to get rid of her, and maybe the takeover would accomplish just that. If he owned her company, why would she stick around?

  When the doors pulled apart again, he found himself back in the crown jewel of their empire, and he found his friends without any trouble at their regular table. He took a deep cleansing breath, trying to calm his demeanor before seeing them, and he realized that he could still smell her on his clothes, seeped into his skin. He clenched his fists and joined his friends at their table. He had to wait only a few seconds before the waitress brought him a drink of soda water. He wished like hell he had a drink in his hand as his friends’ stares told him they had questions about his absence. Seeing Rebecca again, fucking her in his office had thrown him off guard. His heart still pounded in his chest, and his legs shook ever so slightly. He looked around the table, annoyed by his physical reaction to her but still stuck with an unsated desire for the woman he loved to hate. “Somebody say something,” Brett said to the group.

  “Where have you been?” Rafael asked him, getting immediately to the interrogation.

  “I had to take care of something upstairs.”

  “Is that something Rebecca Daniels?” Alana asked. “We saw you go upstairs with her.”

  There was no point in lying. “Yes, I was with Rebecca again.” Parched, he took a large swallow of his water.

  “And?” Alex asked.

  “She wanted to discuss, in private, our takeover bid of Daniels International.”

  “You didn’t think I should be included on any discussions or negotiations?” Alex asked, and Brett could tell that he was still sore about their discussion earlier. He regretted it. At that pivotal moment in the business, Brett needed his partner and right-hand man on his side.

  “Don’t worry. It wasn’t that formal, and it definitely wasn’t a negotiation. She just asked me to reconsider. I told her there was no way. The business comes first,” he said, attempting to placate them. “It comes before any feelings or nostalgia of what Rebecca and I had.”

  “You fucked her, didn’t you?” Rafael asked him, even though they all knew the answer.

  He didn’t respond right away, and apparently his silence spoke volumes to the group of people who knew him better than he knew himself.

  “And I’m guessing she wasn’t successful in getting you to change your mind,” Alana said.

  “Nope.”

  “And I take it you guys didn’t part on good terms?” Gabe asked.

  Brett remembered Rebecca’s middle-finger salute. “We did not.”

  “You don’t think that maybe this will just make things harder for us?”

  “Since when are we afraid of a challenge?” Brett shot back.

  “Okay, man, what if she saw something? Our plans or something sensitive in your office.”

  “She didn’t.” Brett was testy and completely disinterested in being questioned by his friends. He sat back in his chair. “You know what? It’s been a long day. I’m going to bed.”

  Alex took the hint, and Brett was grateful that he relented. “Yeah, it has been.” He turned back to Brett. “You going home?”

  He shook his head. “No, I think I might just stay here again. I’ve got a 7:00 a.m. working breakfast.”

  “Again?” Alana asked. “Haven’t you stayed here every night the past couple of weeks? Why do you even have a home?”

  “It’s mostly for appearances.” His smile was wry. “It makes my mom worry less.” He yawned, though it was mostly for show. He knew he wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight. But he needed some time alone to figure out just what he was going to do with Rebecca Daniels.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  STEPPING OUT OF the air-conditioned paradise of her car into the high-noon, one-hundred-degree desert air was not something Rebecca had missed about Las Vegas. And for a few moments, she found herself wishing for the East Coast and its milder temperatures. She fanned her face with her hand, finding it ineffective, as she made her way to the main entrance of the building that housed Daniels International.

  Her gait was gentle. She was sore and slightly bruised from how Brett had taken her roughly the night before. But despite the discomfort, her stomach still fluttered a little when she remembered it as one of the hottest encounters she’d had since their college-days hookups. Despite that he’d made her body sing out in rapturous exaltation, she hadn’t been able to convince him to abandon the takeover; and her company and the livelihoods of everyone she employed still hung in the balance. She couldn’t allow another lapse in judgment. She didn’t have that luxury.

  She couldn’t help but wonder why Brett was doing this. He didn’t owe her anything, but she really thought her appeal to his conscience last night would’ve made him stop and think about what he was doing. They’d always seen each other as rivals, but there’d been a time when she thought they might have hit on more.

  There was always something about Brett, though. They’d always shared
some kind of connection, and it wasn’t just about sex. It was in the moments while straightening their clothes, both tired but also wide-awake, exhilarated from a stellar sexual encounter. It was in those moments of closeness they would let their guards down, and she and Brett had shared things—him, his drug addiction, and she, her feelings of inferiority and never measuring up to her father.

  After finding out about his past, she’d admired him more, understood his drive, and he hers. They still battled, but it was not driven by animosity, but by respect and competition...and maybe a little animosity.

  Rebecca walked into the elevator and pushed the button for her floor. Thankful for the privacy, she let herself slump, exhausted, against the back wall of the elevator. She had barely slept the night before, and then she’d spent the morning meeting with different shareholders, hopefully convincing them to hold on to their stocks and not sell to Collins/Fischer. She’d been insistent, appealing to each one’s history with the company and their relationships with her father, but she hadn’t gotten one explicit agreement not to sell. She would have to come up with another plan. One that would put her in firm control. She wasn’t going to let Brett pull everything out from under her. Not without one hell of a fight.

  What was to be done with a man like Brett? He hadn’t responded to her appeal to his feelings. They’d fought the night before, and if the past few months had revealed anything, it was that there was still a lot of bad blood between Daniels International and Collins/Fischer. On both sides. He was mad. But goddammit, she was mad, too.

  Even if she was angry at him, she was livid at herself—she was weak in falling for him again last night. But it couldn’t have been helped. He’d looked so good, smelled so good, tasted even better...even though she should have been engaged in battle, she’d lost her focus. It wouldn’t happen again. Brett Collins was going to find out that she would no longer be distracted.