Boardroom Sins

by J. Margot Critch

  “Awesome,” she said, turning back to the direction of the kitchen. “Okay, I really have to go now. Have a great dinner, guys. The porterhouse is a dream tonight, and Josh is a master with beef,” she said with a wink before disappearing across the restaurant.

  Left alone in silence again, Rebecca turned back to Brett. “Okay, Brett, what are we doing here?”

  “I’m thinking about getting the porterhouse,” he said, pushing his menu aside.

  She rolled her eyes at him. “Why did you ask me to come here?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t feel good about the way we left things the other night. I’ve been thinking about it all week.”

  She nodded. “It feels like we have some things to discuss.” Although she had no idea of where to start.

  The waiter returned and, as per Alana’s suggestion, they both ordered the porterhouse.

  When they were alone again, she played with the stem of her wineglass for several moments, trying to form the words, before she looked up at him. “So what should we talk about?”

  “I’m sorry I fucked you the other night in my office.”

  She sat up straight. It wasn’t exactly the conversation starter she was anticipating. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. It was great, but it shouldn’t have happened. Because since then, I’ve done nothing but think about how amazing it is to be buried deeply inside you, hear the way you sound when you come. It’s driving me to distraction.”

  She felt heat rise over her chest to her cheeks. She took a mouthful of wine to quench her parched throat. She hadn’t expected him to be so up-front about it. “Brett...” she breathed.

  “Did you know that you still make the same sounds when you come?”

  She blinked rapidly and looked around. The waiter was across the room, but in the quiet stillness of the restaurant, there was no way he hadn’t heard what Brett had just said. Stunned for words, she tried her damnedest to form a coherent sentence, to tell him to go to hell, to leave her alone, anything. But she’d already lost. The heat in his darkened eyes burned her as much as his words. She gulped her wine, and with her throat constricting, she almost choked on it. “I, um...” Her words stuttered out.

  The waiter, Nick, reappeared. “Would you like another glass of wine?” he asked, eyeing her now-empty glass.

  She hadn’t realized that she’d completely downed the glass. “Yes, please.” When Nick left the table, she took the opportunity to watch Brett. She looked up and saw that he hadn’t looked away from her. She needed a break from him, just for a minute. “You know, this looks great, but I have to excuse myself for a moment. I need to wash my hands.” She pushed away from the table and stood and thankfully stopped her legs from wobbling as she walked away, shoulders square, head held high.

  Inside the bathroom, she blew out a heavy breath and stared at her reflection in the mirror. “You know what he’s doing, don’t you?” she asked her reflection. “He’s trying to get even with you, seduce you. To distract you from saving your company.” She had to fight him, but she wasn’t sure how when just his words sent her insides into a complete tizzy.

  She narrowed her eyes at herself. “But it’s never going to happen,” she told herself. “You didn’t come this far to let some guy take it all away from you. Two can play at that game.”

  * * *

  Brett watched Rebecca walk away, the sway of her ass underneath her skirt forcing him to stifle a groan. What he’d intended to be a seduction of distraction had quickly turned against him. He was just as affected, just as turned on as he was trying to make her, and as he willed away the growing erection behind his zipper, he pulled out his phone and saw a missed call from Alex. He returned the call, and after several rings, his friend picked up.

  “Hey, what’s up?” Brett asked him.

  “I know it’s Friday night, but something came up.”

  “What is it?” Brett’s voice lowered. “Is something wrong?”

  “It’s not the end of the world yet, but I wanted to let you know that there’s someone else making a run for shares in DI.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We didn’t notice it until today. I don’t know who these guys are, but they’ve got a lot more shares now than they did when we checked last week.”

  “Who is it?”

  He could hear Alex shifting papers over the line. “A holding company called RMD. They’re currently in possession of sixteen percent, not a lot, but it’s up from ten two weeks ago. And they’ve put out a standing order for any available shares.”

  “That’s interesting,” Brett said. “Who’s RMD?”

  “I don’t know. I couldn’t find any information on them at all. I’ve got our guys on it, but they won’t know anything until tomorrow at the earliest, if they find anything at all.”

  Well, fuck. They hadn’t counted on that. “So, with this new buyer on the scene, the pressure is definitely on Rebecca right now.”

  “Not only her, but us, too.”

  “Yeah, do you think she can hold on to power?”

  “We just have to outlast her and whoever RMD is.”

  “Well, after tonight, maybe she won’t have the focus to hold on to power,” Brett said slowly.

  “What, you’re going to fuck her senseless again?”

  “I’ll do whatever I have to do. But I will gladly take this bullet for the team.” He raised his eyes and saw that Rebecca had silently made her way back to the table. “I’ve got to go. Let’s talk tomorrow.” He put his phone away and smiled at her. “All good?” he asked, wondering how much she’d heard.

  “Yeah,” she said. Her face was emotionless and impassive. She slid gracefully into the booth and, surprising him, she moved in farther and sat next to him instead of in the place she’d once occupied across from him. She reached across the table for her wineglass, leaning into him more than she needed. He inhaled, her scent driving him mad, filling his lungs as his body stirred in response.

  Rebecca pivoted her upper body so that she faced him. “You look tired, Brett,” she purred, before taking a sip and eyeing him over the rim of her glass. “You getting enough sleep?”

  “Don’t worry about me,” he told her. In fact, he hadn’t been getting enough sleep. But as he watched her take another sip of wine, he didn’t care if he ever slept again. How he wished that he was the glass that was pressed between her lips. Swallowing back the groan that threatened to pass through his lips, he cleared his throat and took a large mouthful of water.

  “You okay?” she asked, bringing her hand to his chest to toy with the top button of his shirt.

  “Yeah,” he managed. “Couldn’t be better.”

  “Listen, Brett,” she said, her voice husky. “We might have different priorities when it comes to business, but we were always good together, weren’t we? Like when we would meet up in our special spot in the business library?” She loosened his top button, pushed the material open and swirled her fingers in the hair between his pecs.

  Her touch was welcome, but it caused his heartbeat to ramp up. He chuckled. “I know what you’re doing,” he warned her, grasping her lithe fingers in his.

  “And what’s that?” she asked under her breath, her eyes wide and innocent.

  “You’re using sex to get me to call off the takeover.”

  “I thought you said it was a buyout,” she murmured before pulling back. “And do you really think I’d do something like that?”

  In response, he dropped his hand to her thigh and squeezed. She parted her legs ever so slightly, allowing him better access to the smooth, butter-soft skin of her inner thigh.

  When his fingers traveled inward, the tips circling against her skin, her lips parted, and for a moment she looked lost and distracted. But she moved past it and her eyes found his, and they were sharp. “To be honest, Brett, I
don’t think I’m the only one who’s playing that game, am I?”

  His fingertips found the silk of her panties, and her eyelids fluttered close. “You aren’t.” He slipped his fingers underneath and found her wet.

  Rebecca pushed her head against the back of the booth. “So maybe we should just cut the crap for tonight and admit why we’re both here.”

  “Sounds good to me,” he said, his voice rough, and he grasped her waist and pulled her onto his lap so her thighs straddled his hips. There was barely enough room between his front and the table, but Rebecca fitted there, pressed against him. His hands smoothed up her back and he cupped her cheek and the nape of her neck. He looked at her, and they shared a powerful moment, but he pulled her to him, drawing her mouth to his.

  His tongue snaked against her lips, and she opened to him. Their tongues swirled together. He searched her mouth, taking in her completely intoxicating flavor. When her arms encircled his neck, he released his hold on her face and palmed her breasts, squeezing as she arched against him and moaned into his mouth. He went lower, and his fingers were under her blouse, cupping her over her bra.

  Breaking glass startled them, and they pulled apart. Brett’s hand was still up her shirt when they turned their heads to the bar of the restaurant to see Nick standing there, looking at them. Brett had forgotten all about the waiter and the chef who were still in the building, and almost nothing would have stopped him from fucking Rebecca in the booth.

  Nick was flushed, probably from the show that Brett and Rebecca had put on. Brett knew the man was a professional and could be counted on to be discreet, but that didn’t mean he should be a witness to the show. Nick looked at them. “Can I offer either of you another drink? The food will be out momentarily,” he said, not coming closer to the table, still trying to do his job but also giving them privacy.

  Brett turned back to Rebecca, who was still on his lap, wedged between his chest and the table. “Are you hungry?” he asked, barely able to squeeze the words from his chest.

  She swiveled her hips against him, the friction sending a powerful bolt of need through his body, all the way to his limbs. “I’m starving.”

  He grinned, knowing she wasn’t talking about food. “Why don’t we just get out of here?” She nodded, and he helped her off his lap and said to the waiter, “Nick, thank you for everything, but we’re going to head out. Can we take it to go?”

  “Very good, sir.”

  Nick left the dining room and came back a few minutes later with the food wrapped—Brett knew they didn’t normally offer takeout, so he appreciated it all the more.

  Brett stood, fished out his wallet and pulled out several hundred-dollar bills, and passed them over to Nick. “We appreciate you guys sticking around for us, but we’ve kept you long enough.” He grabbed the food with one hand, wrapped his arm low around Rebecca’s waist and ushered her to the door. “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  When Brett escorted her out of the restaurant with a firm hand on her lower back, she could feel his power, and the tension, just from the placement of his fingertips. And even though she was determined to play and win his game, the minute he touched her, she had to fight for every intelligible thought. She looked at her BMW parked on one end of the parking lot, and then at the black Porsche 911 he’d arrived in. He was steering her in the direction of his.

  “My car is here,” she told him.

  “You can get it in the morning.”

  In the morning? There was no doubt that they would be spending most of the night together, but she never imagined he would want her to stay. She nodded as he unlocked the car with a beep, and he opened the passenger-side door.

  “Cool car,” she said as he settled into the seat next to her.

  “Thanks,” he said. “I know it’s a bit flashy, but I like it. It’s fast.”

  “If you can’t be flashy in Vegas, then where?” she said, flattening her hands over the sleek leather of the console. “I think it’s sexy.”

  “And this is a city built on sex,” he said, starting the ignition. He smoothly pulled out of the parking lot and started down the road.

  Struck by a memory, she giggled. When he turned a questioning look in her direction, she continued to laugh. “Remember the semester we got stuck as partners working together for that big operations assignment?” They’d spent so many hours and late nights working on the semester-long project, that soon the pressure and proximity, not to mention the constant head butting and arguing, had gotten to them. It marked the beginning of their fling.

  “Yeah. That course almost kicked my ass.”

  “It was tough. It’s a good thing I was there to keep you focused.”

  He chuckled. “Focused? If I recall correctly, the only thing we were focused on was getting naked.”

  “How times have changed,” she muttered ironically, reaching for him. She put her hand on his thigh and smiled at the way his jaw flexed in the dim light of the dashboard. “Do you remember the night we stayed late in the business library and you offered to give me a ride home and you almost crashed your dad’s Murciélago?” Her fingers danced upward, and she found him hard. She gripped him, and he tensed, laughing roughly.

  “I remember taking his new Lamborghini without asking him, and I remember driving too fast. But my dick in your mouth was the thing that almost made me crash it.” He chuckled.

  It was a stupid thing they’d done. And she remembered how she’d jostled about the front of the car when he had to swerve off the road to avoid hitting a car that had stopped in front of them. Neither of them, nor the car, had been hurt, but it had been reckless and he’d driven her home in silence. But she still wanted to be reckless. There was something about Brett that made her want to be reckless. She looked down in his lap and wondered if the memory of road head had caused the distinct bulge in his lap. Bringing it up had had the desired effect. “We could have been killed,” she whispered. “You were driving so fast.”

  “But that would have been quite a way to go, don’t you agree?”

  “Do you think your driving’s improved any since that night?”

  He slid his eyes over to her, and his grip tightened on the steering wheel. “I believe it has.”

  She didn’t respond, but she reached across and dropped her hand into his lap and palmed his semihard dick, turning it into a rigid staff. “Want to give it another try?”

  * * *

  He almost veered off the road again, and she smirked when he fought to regain control of the car. He coughed to clear his throat. Hell, if he’d been turned on at the start of this conversation, with just the memory of that night, he was raring to go now. Her hand on his thigh was enough to make him almost burst through his pants.

  She licked her lips, a cool move that made him exhale roughly, and she leaned over the console. “Want me to do something about that?” Her voice was low, sultry, smoky. And the sound traveled straight to his dick. He couldn’t remember another woman who had been able to make his engine go from zero to ninety in one second flat.

  Do I want her to? Was he fucking crazy? Of course he did. He grunted in response and swallowed roughly.

  She gripped him, stroking him through the material of his gray pants. He shuddered, which caused her to smile, and he had to focus all of his attention on staying on the road. He pressed down on the accelerator, desperate not to lose control and crash the car.

  Rebecca unbuckled her seat belt and leaned over the console. Putting her lips to his neck, she kissed him lightly on the pulse point under his jaw where the collar of his shirt had been opened. She traced his throat in light kisses, in a trail to the open neck of his shirt. Her hands made quick work of his belt, unsnapped his pants and slowly lowered his zipper.

  “Rebecca...” He gave her a half-hearted warning. “Maybe we shouldn’t... I’m driving.”

  “So drive,” s
he challenged him, looking up at him. “Don’t mind me.”

  He moaned when she reached into his boxers and pulled out his hard cock. He glanced down and he could already see the glistening drop of precum that hung to the tip. He focused on the road in front of him—and staying on it.

  She pulled her hands away and shifted in her seat so that she was kneeling in the small low bucket seat of his sports car. Her ass was in the air, almost pushed against the window, and he couldn’t help himself from removing one white-knuckle hand from the wheel to smooth it down the curve of her spine to her round rear. He gripped it hard and she squealed. He laughed and leaned his head against the back of his seat. Leaning fully over the center console between them, she took him in her hands again. Circling him in her little fist, she pumped several times, each one making him moan in need. But he didn’t want her hands. He put a guiding hand on the back of her head and lightly pushed her down, telling her exactly what he wanted, but not using enough force that she couldn’t resist if she didn’t want to indulge him. “Your mouth,” he whispered.

  Rebecca moaned in agreement as her lips parted over the head of his dick, her tongue swirling around the crown. He glanced down, but just watching the illicit act was almost enough to make him lose it, so he threw his head back against the headrest and watched the road, noting that they were almost to her family house—he knew she’d be living there now that she was back and her father had passed. He came upon a red light and stopped the car. The tinting on his windows kept the people in neighboring cars from being able to see the lewd activity that was happening only a couple of feet away, but even if they could see, he wouldn’t care. Hell, he would have rented out the arena at MGM Grand and sold tickets to the show for how goddamn good it felt.

  Her head lowered, taking him deeper into her mouth until he felt himself hitting the back of her throat. And then she still went deeper. Neat trick, he thought, amazed by the view of her head in his lap, her lips resting at the root of his cock, and he wondered where she’d learned it. The traffic signal turned green and he peeled off. The lights of the city passed in front of him in long streaks of color. It felt like he was intoxicated, driving drunk. For someone who lived his life in such tight control, he felt like a wild man, and Rebecca brought that out in him.