Lose Your Shirt (The Londonaire Brother Series Book 2)

by Amanda Aksel

  “Are you sure?”

  “Definitely.”

  I grab a paper towel from the dispenser and hold it to her mouth. “Blot.” And in less than a minute, she looks like a whole new Margot. I hand her my empty martini glass. “Now, take this and go over to him and join his conversation. Make sure he sees that your glass is empty. If he offers to get you another drink, then you know he’s interested.”

  “And what if he ignores me?” she asks.

  I give her a reassuring smile. “Trust me, he won’t ignore you.”

  She shrugs, taking the glass. “Okay, I’ll try.”

  “Don’t try, just go for it. But again, make sure he’s available.”

  She nods, looking ten times more confident than she did when I dragged her into the ladies’ room. I wash my hands and feel a wave of intoxication come over me. Drinking on an empty stomach is a one-way ticket to tipsy—something I cannot afford tonight.

  When I step out of the ladies’ room, I look left, then right, and hurry toward the closest elevator. But before I can make it inside the steel doors, I hear “Liz!” and feel a tap on my shoulder. It’s Dahlia, standing next to me with a wide grin on her face and Kent on her arm. He’s wearing the pinot noir shirt I gave him a few days ago. I clutch the strap of my purse in my fist, wanting to rip the shirt off him and take it back. He doesn’t deserve to wear a Solids shirt.

  “Liz, I didn’t know you would be here,” she says, grinning.

  “I’m actually leaving.” I press the button for the elevator again.

  “No, I just got here. Stay for a little while.”

  I shoot a glare at Kent. “I don’t think so. Sorry, Dahlia.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” Kent asks, giving me those I-want-you eyes. Save it for your fiancée, dick!

  “Yes.” I step inside the elevator and turn to face them, pressing the button for the sixth floor. “Nice shirt.” The doors close and I get a surge of irritation that leaves me wanting to scratch at my skin, or at least be somewhere else. I walk quickly to Margot’s office. The floor is dark with the exception of a handful of overhead lights. I grab my coat and briefcase and head to the back stairs so I can avoid the party. I pass Kent’s office on the way, and for whatever reason, I peek my head inside. It’s empty, of course, just like the rest of the floor. I step inside and look around. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s my version of goodbye, but for the moment, I want to be here.

  I drop my things on one of the chairs and scope out the photographs on his bookshelves. Pictures of him and a couple of guys who look like they could be his brothers, him receiving some kind of industry award, him posing with celebrity soccer players I’m not at all familiar with. All these pictures and not one of them are of him and Dahlia. I hope Dahlia knows what she’s doing, because it’s a red flag when a guy doesn’t have a picture of his fiancée in his office.

  FOURTEEN

  Kent

  I watch Liz disappear behind the doors of the lift. The look in her eyes makes me want to vomit up my Claustini or whatever it’s called. She’s not only furious; she’s hurt too. Guilt gnaws at me as I realize how badly I’ve fucked this up. I can’t let her leave here, thinking that the whole week was bullshit.

  “I’m gonna tell her,” I say, hitting the lift button.

  “You are?” Dahlia’s face lights up like a kid on Christmas morning.

  “I have to. Did you see the way she looked at me?”

  “I knew it! You love her.” Dahlia’s words are low in my ear.

  The doors open and I step inside. “I don’t know about that, but I care about her enough to tell her the truth.”

  As the doors slide shut, Dahlia juts her arm in between, halting the lift. “Wait!” She stands in the doorway.

  “What?”

  “I’m proud of you. You’re following your heart.” Dahlia blows a friendly kiss my way and steps aside. She sounds like Poppy. Funny that following my heart feels a lot like following my gut. I walk out onto my floor. “Liz!” I call and hurry for Margot’s office. Empty. I check every hallway, peeking into every open door until I make it to my office.

  There she is, looking at the displays on my bookshelf. “Hey,” I say softly.

  Liz looks over, startled. “Hey.” When she sees it’s me, her expression shutters.

  “What are you doing in here?”

  She shrugs and shakes her head slowly. “I don’t know. But I have to go.” Grabbing her things off the chair, she heads for the door, but I block her.

  “No, wait. I need to tell you something.”

  She looks up at me, eyes filled with anger and pain, and opens her mouth to speak.

  “The truth,” I tell her. “I need to tell you the truth.”

  Her tense body loosens and she steps back.

  “I should have told you about Dahlia. I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, you should have.” Her stance shifts and she folds her arms.

  “I don’t want you to think that I’m the kind of guy who cheats on his fiancée. Because I’m not.”

  “Are you sure? Because you don’t even have a picture of her in your office. I mean, do you even love her?”

  “No. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

  “Then why are you getting married?” Liz yells.

  I take a deep breath. “We’re not. It’s not real.”

  Her angered expression softens. “What do you mean it’s not real?”

  “Dahlia’s a friend. She’s an actress, and I needed someone to play the role of my fiancée, so I hired her.”

  Liz lets out a huge laugh. And I almost want to join her because in a situation like mine, you almost have to crack up, if for no other reason than to sooth the pain. “That’s by far the most ridiculous thing you’ve told me so far.”

  “It’s true. We’re not really together.” Dahlia’s voice emerges and then she does.

  “Dahlia?” Poor Liz seems even more confused.

  My fake fiancée steps inside the room. “I wanted to tell you, but I’m contractually obligated not to. Kent didn’t cheat on me. He didn’t cheat on anyone. And he really likes you.”

  “Dahlia,” I hiss.

  Liz walks back until she hits the edge of a chair and leans against it. “So you two are not together.”

  “No,” we say.

  She looks at me. “Is this why you didn’t want to get involved with me?”

  I turn to Dahlia. “Do you think you can give us a moment?”

  “Sure.” She walks out of the office, closing the door behind her.

  “I didn’t want to get involved with you because I dated a client in the past and it’s gotten me into a lot of trouble. My father has forbidden me from doing it again. He’s threatened to throw me out of the company, which means I’ll no longer be next in line to run Bonnaire Enterprises. I had no idea when we met that you were Elizabeth McKenna, my client.”

  Liz snaps her fingers. “I knew there was more to the story. So, what?” She folds her arms. “Am I just another client that you want to sleep with?”

  I’ve been asking myself that ever since she showed up in my conference room, but Liz isn’t just any client. And more importantly, she’s not just any woman. She’s different from anyone else. “No, it’s like Dahlia said, I like you.”

  Liz hints at a smile. “I like you too. And it all makes sense now. But I wouldn’t want you to lose your shirt over me.” She smirks and nods at my pinot noir shirt.

  If there were ever a woman worth losing my shirt over, it’d be Liz McKenna. The realization hits me like a ton of bricks, though. Maybe Dahlia wasn’t so far off the mark. “Well, you know, technically you’re working with Margot now.” I step closer to her. “So you’re not exactly my client anymore.”

  “That is true. But I’m still a client of this firm and don’t you run the firm?” Liz rests her hands on the back of the chair behind her. I walk closer but it feels more like being caught in her magnetic force.

  “I do. B
ut I don’t care anymore.” I slip my hand around her, grabbing her waist. She sinks into me, the sound of her breath trembles as it fills her lungs, and her chest rises against mine, closing the space between us. Her amber eyes sparkle with lustful yearning, and I know she wants to forget about all the reasons why this is probably a bad idea. Maybe I’m weak for giving in, but I can’t fight it anymore. “I just want you.”

  She utters half a syllable before my mouth crashes into hers. I cup her face in my hands and stroke her silky cheek with my thumb. The tiniest whimper leaves her lips, spilling into my mouth as our tongues tango in rhythm. Even that small sound encourages my cock to throb like mad. Her mouth tastes like cranberry and coconut. Part of me wants to rip off her dress and ravage her on the desk until she screams my name, but the other part of me wants to take my time, sip her, inhale her, swirl her in my mouth, relishing her like a fine red wine.

  My fingers trail down her soft skin, feeling the little hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention. I find the zip at the top of her dress and slide it down her back. The raspy reverberation of the zip has never sounded sexier. Tucking my hand inside the open fabric, I caress her back, teasing myself even more as I slide my fingers over the top of her stockings. My tongue skates over her shoulder, and I kiss the crook of her neck, thinking about all the places I want to lick her body. She peppers lingering kisses on my hand from my thumb to my wrist.

  Slow and sensual then. Fine by me.

  I spin her around, sweeping her long red hair to the side and kiss the space between her shoulders. Her body tenses and releases as I slide her dress off. It hits the floor and I gaze down her creamy skin, admiring the arch of her back and the curve of her waist. I press my hips against her, wanting her to feel my raging-hard cock. Liz lets out an airy gasp, then grips the chair with one hand and looks back with a coy smile. I kiss her, almost panting as she grabs the back of my head, threading her fingers through my hair. She clutches my thigh with the other, sliding her hand higher and higher until she holds my solid rod in her grasp. The warmth of her hand penetrates through my pants, shooting a sharp tingle down my legs. My stomach tightens at the anticipation of skin to skin. She unfastens my zip and dives her hand inside, stroking me over my briefs. I growl low in her ear, nipping at the edge.

  “You like that?” she asks in a velvety voice.

  I rope my arm around her waist. “Mmhmm, I love your hands on my cock.”

  Sprinkling kisses across her shoulders and down her spine, I reach her bra strap, then snap the latch. Her body quivers as I slide my hand up her stomach, all the way to her full, tender breasts, taking one in each hand, massaging the edges of her nipples. No need to ask if she likes it, because she lets out a beautiful, craving moan as her head rolls back, spilling her hair down her back. Kneeling, I slip my finger into the top of her black stockings and peel the nylon down her hips, unveiling her luscious ass and slender legs. She steps out of her heels, kicking the hosiery off her feet. I kiss the milky skin of her thighs, kneading her flesh in my hands and flicking my tongue near the edge of her lacy thong. She spreads her legs and arches her back as if begging me to dive into her. I want to, and I will, but when I do, I want to go deep. I rise to my feet and Liz spins around. My gaze travels from her plump red lips to her perky, swollen breasts. I take one of her hard pink nipples into my mouth and glance up at her as I swirl my tongue over it. “Mmm,” she moans, biting her bottom lip and watching me.

  Liz tugs at the hair at the base of my neck and dips her hand into the back of my jacket, pushing it off my shoulders. I wrestle it away, not letting my tongue leave her delicious skin. The fantasies I’ve had of this woman don’t even come close to the real thing. And I’m not even inside her yet.

  With my head between her hands, she pulls me up. “Kiss me,” she whispers. Our lips collide in an eager kiss. I lift her up until she coils her legs around me and carry her to the edge of the desk. She sits in nothing but her lacy knickers and begins unbuttoning my shirt one American made button at a time. Her eyes widen with the release of the last one, and I lose the shirt.

  I kiss her again, sucking on her lips, and now my cock is aching to be set free inside her wildness. Liz runs her nails down my back just the way I like, and I let out a gravelly moan. I need to feel her now. I slip a digit inside her knickers, and I almost lose it right then and there. Her pussy is so wet, dripping goodness all over my fingers. I slide around her slippery folds until I find the right spot. Her body writhes and she moans. There it is. I circle her throbbing clit and watch her eyes roll back as she tugs her lower lip with her teeth. Her hungry eyes open and her brow flicks in pleasure as she cries, “Oh, Kent.”

  My fingers keep up the pace and I trail kisses along her cheeks until I reach her ear. “Shh, someone might hear.”

  Liz bites her bottom lip and whimpers a sexy sound too quiet for anyone else to hear but for me, and it fills the room. She reaches for my belt, pulling it loose, and tears into my pants. Her hand dips into my briefs and she grabs my throbbing cock, gliding her fingers up and down my shaft. I toss my head back and close my eyes. How am I going to stay quiet when my dick just wants to explode in her hands? I lean closer, pulling at her lace, and release a low grunt in her ear. “I need to have you on the desk . . . now.”

  She presses her lips to my shoulder and moans into my skin. I slide her lace down her legs and pull back, kicking off my shoes, then dropping my pants to the ground. Liz sits on the desk, chest heaving from heavy, sensual breaths, watching me as I find a condom. Her hand touches her shoulder, then falls to her nipples and slides down past her belly button. She spreads her legs and props a foot on the desk. With the tip of her middle finger, she toys with her clit. Her eyes screaming, Fuck me now! And it’s all I can do not to fumble the damned condom as I tear open the wrapper. This girl is amazing.

  I watch her pleasure herself as I sheath my rock-solid rod. I step up to her and kiss her hard, shoving files off the desk, laying her back against the cold surface. I dip down and slide inside, slow and deep. Her tight, hot pussy envelops every inch of me. She moans into my mouth while I move in and out. I look at her and watch her eyes roll back as she exposes her neck. I kiss her throat, running my tongue up to her chin.

  Rising up, I stretch her legs straight against my chest until her ankles rest on my shoulders and pound into her. She arches her back and I dive even deeper. It’s like our bodies are talking to each other in their own secret, sexy language. She leans up on her elbows and slides her hand down my stomach, then touches herself again. I kiss her legs, curling my tongue just above her delicate ankles. With my mouth pressed to her smooth skin, I glance at her naked body in the dim light and our eyes meet.

  “Oh, my God, that drives me crazy,” she whispers, running her fingers through her hair and down her face. I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling her pussy tighten around my cock. When I open them, she’s looking up at me. I lower forward and kiss her, slowing my pace, feeling her soft breasts and hard nipples against my chest. We moan with each other as we kiss.

  “Kent,” she whispers, panting. “Fuck me.” Her words alone are enough to finish me. I lift up and her legs wrap around my waist. My thumb circles her clit as I grind into her, feeling like my dick might rocket off of my body.

  She grips the edge of the desk until her knuckles turn white. “I’m gonna come.” And the moment the words leave her gorgeous mouth, I feel her swell and gush as she rocks her hips with mine. She clamps her lips tight, letting out a long cry in the base of her throat. It’s so deep and beautiful that I wish she could set it free. But that’s the trade-off for being here in my office.

  I squeeze her thigh in my grip and, with a final thrust, let out my own release. Our pace slows, both of us damp with sweat, catching our breath. Liz smiles and lets out a satisfied sigh. And I echo the same. Whatever consequences follow, this was so worth it.

  FIFTEEN

  Liz

  With flushed cheeks and satisfied smiles, Kent and I pick our
clothes off the floor, trying to take it all in. He wasn’t kidding when he said it was complicated. Funny enough, I don’t feel at all weird about sleeping with the man who is fake-engaged to my long-lost friend. The only problem is that somehow I’ve gotten caught up in their story, which means I have to fake it a little too. I step into my dress and place my arms through the sleeves. “Can you zip me up?” I push my hair to one side and turn my back to him, peeking over my shoulder.

  “Do I have to?” He walks up, threads his arms around my waist, and kisses my cheek in a frisky way, like maybe this wasn’t just about the sex after all. He holds me for a moment and I lay my arms over his. “You’re incredible, Liz McKenna, you know that?”

  I blush. “Thanks, you too.” I’ve always wondered if desk sex was as hot as it appeared in the movies. Yeah . . . it’s hotter. Especially with Kent and his unbelievable body. I’ve wanted to see him with his shirt off ever since I got a glimpse at his biceps. Not to mention the way he kissed my ankles. I have no idea why, but it really threw me over the edge.

  After he reluctantly zips up my dress, I sit on the edge of his desk and slide on my thick stockings. “I told Margot that I was flying back home this weekend.”

  His easy expression wrinkles. “Wait, you’re leaving? Why?”

  “It was because of you,” I admit, snapping on my heels, then slipping into my red coat. “But now, I don’t know. Should I stay?”

  He nods, buttoning his pinot noir shirt with a look that says abso-fuckin’-lutely, but instead he utters, “Yes.”

  “Okay,” I say, “Then I’ll stay until Christmas Eve.”

  Kent drops his arms. “Shit, I forgot about Christmas.” His hands rest on his hips, and he looks like he’s trying to decide whether or not to reschedule the holiday. “You probably already have plans, huh?”

  “I don’t actually,” I grumble, wondering how hot it is in India.

  “Is it too soon to ask you to spend it with me?” he asks, unsure.