The Millionaire Affair (Love in the Balance)

by Jessica Lemmon

  “We should go in,” he said. “Take care of six.”

  Anticipation thrummed low in her stomach. “I don’t see how it could possibly be better than five,” she lied. Everything had been pretty darn phenomenal, each experience better than the last. She took solace that there were five more items to tick off the list.

  What happens when we reach ten?

  Ignoring the voice in the back of her head busily proving Mick right—that she wasn’t cut out for this—she allowed Landon to help her stand. He kept her wrapped in the sheet against them as they went inside. The heated press of their nude bodies had her sighing, anxious for more of him already.

  “My room,” he murmured.

  They kissed their way through the house, stopping to untangle the sheet from their feet. At one point, she tripped and he caught her, bracing a hand against the wall to keep them both from crashing to the hardwood floor.

  “That’s it.” He lifted her into his arms, yanking the sheet from her body.

  “No! I’m too heavy!” She covered her face with her hands when he cradled her.

  He adjusted his grip, his muscles bunching against her body. “Shut up.” Showing annoyingly little exertion for his efforts, he carried her down the hallway and dropped her onto her feet on his bedroom floor. His gaze danced over her bare body. The light wasn’t on, and the room, washed in darkness, made her bolder than usual. She straightened her spine, pushed her breasts out. Landon kissed her so softly, so slowly, and so thoroughly, she melted into him and forgot all about the list.

  An hour or so later, she lay prone on the bedding, overly satisfied and overly warm. She kicked at the comforter, and it slid off the corner of the bed and onto the floor with a shiff.

  “I’m thirsty,” she said.

  “I’m hungry.” He kissed her forehead. “Be right back.”

  How he’d found the energy to bolt out of his bed and strut across the room, she had no idea. She also had no complaints, because watching his athletic backside cross the carpet could easily become her new favorite pastime.

  A minute later, he padded back into the room, two bags of Windy City potato chips in one hand, a bottle of water and a can of Coke balanced in the other.

  “Junk food.” She smiled and stretched her overexerted limbs.

  “You cannot refuel on health food after the night we’ve had.” He traipsed his naked body across the room as she blatantly stared. He didn’t mind, proudly wearing only his glasses and a smile. In bed, he opened both bags of chips.

  She unscrewed the cap from the water bottle and took a drink. “Do you ever wear contacts?”

  “Used to. Why?”

  “I once knew a guy who needed glasses but refused to wear them.”

  “A guy, huh?” he fished. Wisely, she stayed silent. “Why didn’t he wear them?”

  “He thought they made him look weak.”

  Landon’s brows scrunched. “Really? I always thought they made me look smart.”

  She grinned. That “guy” she’d referred to earlier had nothing on Landon. No one did. The thought made her grin fade. He offered her the BBQ chips from the bag in his hand, but she twisted her lips and went for the jalapeño ranch.

  “You like the hot stuff.”

  “All evidence points to that fact,” she said, laying the flavorful chip on her tongue. She poked his taut abs. “Hot stuff.”

  He ate a few chips. In bed. Never would she have guessed neat and tidy Landon Downey nommed potato chips in bed. “You’re getting crumbs everywhere,” she pointed out.

  As if accepting a challenge, he crammed a handful of chips into his mouth. Crumbs tracked down his chest as he crunched. She brushed them out of his chest hair, off his abs, and stopped just short of palming the impressive length of manhood lying against his thigh.

  “Stop staring.”

  When she opened her mouth to lie and say she wasn’t, he put a chip onto her tongue. She ate the spicy morsel, losing her desire to argue. “These are good.”

  “Good?” He reached into one of the bags between them. Leaning on one elbow, he elevated a single, perfectly round chip, dusted to ranchy, jalapeño-y perfection between his finger and thumb. “These are not good,” he said sternly. “These are the cornerstone of a sexy person’s pantry. These,” he let his eyes wander over the surface of the chip as if he was admiring a work of art, “are the Cadillac of chips.”

  He winked, then popped the “Cadillac of chips” onto his tongue, munching happily as he gave her a quick lift of his eyebrows.

  She repressed a laugh, but couldn’t help smiling. “That’s a good slogan.”

  “Thanks. I came up with it myself.”

  This man was so much more layered than she’d known. In a way, it wasn’t a surprise. Being a Downey, she inherently knew Landon couldn’t have bypassed the charm so easily conveyed by his brothers. Even Angel was irresistible by her own right. Landon was irresistible, too. A shame. Since Kimber’s sole job after their affair was to do just that. Resist him.

  Four hours later, he opened the cab door and kissed her good-bye. A lingering, sweet, delicious kiss she was sure the cabbie gladly charged on his meter. No matter. She’d spend whatever it took to stand here in front of his building and kiss Landon like this.

  The accusatory voice in her head whispered that she was being schlepped off like a lady of the night when she could be inside, snuggled deep in expensive bedding against Landon’s naked body. She mentally silenced that voice. Even if he had invited her to stay, she would have had to say no. She had a business to run, and whatever was between them didn’t include snuggling or overnight stays.

  He finished the kiss and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Good night, sweet girl.”

  “I’m not all that sweet,” she murmured, inserting a sensual husk into her voice. May as well leave him wanting more. He’d done the same for her.

  Leaning in, he brushed his lips along her ear. “Yes, you are. Like honey and port and melted caramel.” He licked her ear, suckled, and Kimber forgot where she was… until she grappled the cab door for support.

  Oh yeah. We’re in public.

  She pulled away from him and offered a farewell far more casual than her feelings at the moment. “See you around.”

  “You know where to find me.” With that, he shut her in, leaned into the open front passenger side window, and palmed the driver a very large bill.

  Just like that, her Pretty Woman complex was complete.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The A/C had been set so she wouldn’t freeze, but Kimber’s shoulders were still cold. She maintained her position on one of the stools at the breakfast bar, unwilling to move from her elegant pose.

  She didn’t quite have the guts to pull off the Pretty Woman nude-while-wearing-a-tie scene—not that she’d be able to tie the dang thing—so she settled for perching on a stool in the kitchen, legs crossed, wearing the dress Glo had dropped off for her this afternoon.

  Between a black and deep blue, the neck scooped down to showcase her breasts and halted mid-thigh. Glo’s boobs were too big and she claimed they kept busting out of the top (the poor dear), but Kimber chose to be grateful for the hand-me-down instead of jealous that her friend was better endowed than she. Since all of Kimber’s dresses were vintage, she’d accepted the offer of the sexy cocktail number, deciding to surprise Landon with an attempt at elegance.

  Legs crossed, she waggled one very tall heel and stole a glance at the clock. Seven thirty. He was supposed to be home an hour ago, and so she’d been sitting here, waiting, trying not to muss her updo or fiddle with the costume jewelry around her neck and dangling from her ears. Landon was right. She was a fidgety person. His every move always seemed so controlled.

  Her shoulders slumped. Maybe she could wait on the couch, and then when he came in, dash over to her perch and resume her poise. She hopped off the stool, staggering in the stilettos she had no idea how Glo wore with any measure of success, and caught herself on the corner
of the kitchen table with one palm.

  “Stupid things.” She cursed the shoes and reached for the right one, intending to take them off and toss them aside. That’s when she heard the key in the door.

  * * *

  Landon stepped into his kitchen expecting to find Kimber. They’d planned to get together tonight, and he was woefully late. He’d debated over what kind of apology gift to buy, but flowers and candy were out of place in this… whatever they were doing, so he’d settled for something simpler.

  But he nearly dropped the potato chips and wine when he found Kimber bent forward, one hand braced on the table, a spiked heel in her other hand. Wide, jade eyes regarded him, her red lips softly pursed.

  My God. She’s gorgeous.

  She was gorgeous anyway, but tonight…

  His eyes swept down to her breasts hanging free in the low-cut top of a patented “little black dress.” She slipped the heel back on to her foot, teetered for a second, then adjusted the hem of her dress. A lock of crimson hair fell over her eye, the rest of it arranged into some kind of twist at the back of her head. The jewelry around her neck made him want to replace it with the real deal. Because she’d look amazing in real diamonds.

  In only real diamonds.

  He crossed the room, setting aside his apology gifts and briefcase. She gave him a smile that may have been slightly embarrassed, but he bent and captured her lips before she could say anything. While their mouths mated, he drew a line down her neck with the back of his fingers and slipped beneath the strap over her left shoulder.

  He placed an openmouthed kiss on her neck and breathed her in. “You are exquisite.”

  There was no other word for her.

  Her easy laugh tumbled around in his chest. “I was going for classy.”

  He raised his head but kept his fingers beneath the strap of her dress, stroking her skin with a light touch. “That, too.” She was tall in those shoes. Tall enough that he barely had to lean down to kiss her lips a second time.

  “I’m underdressed,” he said. “I’ll go change.” He didn’t want to take her out. He wanted to take her to bed. But a woman didn’t get dressed up just to be stripped down, some logical part of his brain reminded him.

  Her brow furrowed. “Change?” She reached for his tie. “I thought we’d”—she lifted one delicate shoulder—“you know.”

  Yes. He knew.

  The demure smile on her face weakened his resolve. Sufficiently. “I know you didn’t get dressed like this for me.” He toyed with the strap again, enjoying the feel of her satiny skin.

  “I did.” She swept her hands up his torso and heat spread across his chest. “I thought you might like to see how well I clean up.” She tugged on his tie. Little had he known he’d become such a fan of that move. Or maybe he was only a fan when Kimber was at the helm. She didn’t have to tug hard to get him to lower his lips and kiss her again as she untied the length of silk and dropped it to the floor. “What’s next on the list?” she said against his mouth.

  At the mention of the list, he grew hard in an instant. The next item might be his favorite, a fantasy he’d never played out.

  “The desk,” he growled. He didn’t mean to growl. But the idea of making love to her in his office tightened his vocal cords, turned his muscles to steel. He’d been saving the desk for later… for now, apparently.

  “Oh, the desk,” she purred, smiling against his lips. “Yes, that’s better than a night on the town.”

  He grinned. “I must be in heaven.”

  “Not yet.” she said, her low, sultry voice making him even harder. She tugged his glasses off his face and set them on the counter behind her, then slid her hands over his shoulders, pushing his suit jacket off his arms.

  He mirrored her movement, slipping one strap of her dress off her shoulder. The dress fell dangerously low, exposing the pale flush of one areola. His other hand fell to her hip and he squeezed, an attempt to hold on to his dwindling willpower long enough to get her to the desk and not throw her down on the kitchen table. Then again… “How about here instead?”

  She laughed off his suggestion and he felt a wave of relief. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

  “Come with me.” Weaving her fingers in his, she led him down the seemingly mile-long corridor to his office. Not that he could complain about the view—he kept his eyes on her derriere the entire time, loving how she moved, the way her dress hugged her hips. He couldn’t wait to get it off her. To have her under him.

  In his office, she dropped his hand and flicked on the fireplace with the remote. The fake flames licked to life, softening the room in an orange glow. She crooked a finger and he went to her, his body practically vibrating. How is it he’d had her repeatedly and still wanted more?

  She unbuttoned his shirt, parting the material and sweeping her fingers over his chest. He sucked in a breath, loving the feel of her hands on his body. The way she reverently touched him. He molded his hands over her shoulders, warming her with his palms before pushing the straps aside and exposing her breasts. Such perfect breasts. He cupped them in his hands and thumbed her nipples as her eyes closed. How was it they both enjoyed touching one another in equal measure? He shouldn’t question it. And then he couldn’t, because next she reached for his belt.

  When his pants slid to his knees, he unzipped her dress, letting it fall to her hips. He stomped on his pants and left them inside out on the floor while she wiggled out of the dress, her lithe movements causing his erection to throb painfully.

  She hadn’t been wearing a bra, he’d known that. But now he saw she hadn’t been wearing underwear, either. Eyes on the V between her thighs, he shucked his boxer briefs and reached her in one step, his lips hitting hers hard, suddenly unable—or unwilling—to slow down.

  Kimber was no longer smiling or teasing, but she was responding. Kissing him as hard as he kissed her, her tongue in his mouth, her hands roving over his chest. He palmed her ass at the same time she grabbed his cock. With a low grunt of satisfaction, he backed them through the room toward the desk, sucking in greedy gulps of air between kisses. His leg hit the corner of his mahogany desk, rattling the pen cup sitting there.

  The disruption made her pull her lips from his. He watched as she took in the blotter, the stapler, the wooden inbox, then lifted her eyes to his, a question simmering there.

  “Do it,” he told her, half a smile creeping onto his face.

  With wide eyes, she glanced at the surface again. “I don’t think I can. It’s all so… neat.”

  He moved her aside and, much as he hated to, let go of her hips. Arm on one side of the desk, he lifted an eyebrow. Dare me?

  She bit her lip, something irreverent and fiery in her expression. That was all it took. Starting at one side, he swiped his arm across the desk, knocking everything off. Various office implements clattered to the floor.

  When he faced her, she had her hand to her throat as if in shock. She was a vision, completely nude save for those tall, tall shoes, her nipples peaked, her hair coming down, her mouth forming a perfect O. “I can’t believe you did that.”

  He didn’t speak, but crushed his mouth into hers. She tasted like peppermint, smelled like cucumber, and the scent curled around his brain and stalled his every thought. Kicking his chair out of the way, he lifted and sat her onto the shining desk, then took hold of her ankles. “Worth it,” he said. He spread her legs and she let him, a foxy little smile on her face.

  He draped her knees over his shoulders, kissing first one breast and then the other. A breathy moan sounded in her throat as the heels of her shoes scraped his back. She arched toward him and he purposefully made his way to her thighs.

  “Landon.” Her fingers tangled in his hair as he traced the tip of his tongue along the inside of her legs. She pushed his head away, then pulled him closer, like she didn’t know what she wanted. But he knew what she wanted. He knew because she’d told him, because he’d paid close attention to her body’s needs ove
r and over again.

  Dipping his head, he took his time tasting every square inch of her until she squirmed. Until her soft mewls of pleasure swirled around him, and the spicy scent of her was imprinted on his brain. Only when she yanked his hair did he come up for air.

  “Now.” Her cheeks were flushed, her hair a disaster.

  He smiled. He loved what he did to her. “But I’m not finished yet.”

  “Oh, yes you are.”

  Well. How could he argue with that? He opened a desk drawer and fished out a row of condoms.

  “Planner,” she teased with a puckish smile.

  “Hey, you bought these. I just put them in here.” Because he was a planner.

  Condom in place, he took a mental photograph of this moment. He’d never be able to write another proposal at this desk without picturing Kimber sprawled across it. Pink, pert nipples, heavy-lidded eyes, her red hair spread around her head like a deviant halo.

  “What’s funny?”

  “Absolutely nothing.” If he was grinning it was because he was happy. Go figure. He gripped her hips with both hands and slid into her in one long, slow, smooth motion, encasing himself in her warmth. Back arched, eyes scrunched, she held tightly to the sides of the desk. And he vowed to give her a reason to hold on. He drove into her, slowly, deeply, basking in each keening sound that echoed in the room as she thrashed and called his name loud enough for the entire building to hear.

  She was on the edge. He could feel her tightening around him. Palms on the desk on either side of her head, he switched his angle and she cried out. But when he would have sent her over, she crossed her ankles behind his thighs and held him in place. Her eyes were fierce, her lips full and wet when she spoke. “On the chair.”

  He damn near came right then.

  “That’s not on the list.” He flexed his hips and broke her hold.

  The high heels dug into his ass. “Sit down,” she commanded, her voice a breathy, throaty whisper.

  “Sounds like a threat.” He slid out halfway, clinging to his control while making her lose hers.

  “Or else.” She gasped, a weak one at that.