by Tami Lund
She felt his hands on her breasts, cupping them, and then he was rubbing back and forth over the material of her bra, stimulating her nipples, which were achy and almost painful.
His fingers brushed the top swell of one of her breasts; he tugged at her bra cup, freeing her boob. He scraped his tongue across her nipple and she cried out as she arched off the bed.
“Mmm-mmm. Does that mean you like that?”
She nodded vigorously.
He pulled down the other cup and did the same thing to that boob.
“Oh, yes,” she said, her voice a low moan.
He reached around her back, flicked open the clasp on her bra, and dragged the straps down her arms before tossing it over his shoulder. A moment later, one hand covered one breast, kneading it and tweaking the highly sensitive nipple, while his lips wrapped around the other one, kissing and suckling. She squirmed and clung to the headboard, her head thrown back, her eyes squeezed shut. Her body twisted and coiled on the inside, the pleasure building, like a volcano about to erupt.
Among all the sensations, she became aware of another, of his fingers trailing down her abdomen and then slipping under the elastic band of her panties. They were stroking her, and she widened her legs and groaned again.
He slid one finger into her and thrust in and out a few times, then added a second while the palm of his hand rubbed against her clit, his mouth still on her breast, sucking on her nipple, her hands squeezing the headboard, until the pressure was too much and the volcano inside her exploded and she cried out, more a scream, really.
“Hang on, hang on, hang on,” he said, releasing her breast and shuffling around, his other hand still stroking her, keeping her riding that high. She could feel her body still pulsing around his fingers.
Somehow, he managed to get her panties off her legs without jarring her bad knee, and then he was moving, while still finger-fucking her, and she kept her eyes closed because she didn’t even care what else he was doing so long as he didn’t stop creating that throbbing pleasure between her thighs.
“Open your eyes and let go of the headboard,” he commanded, and she did as she was told. He was holding a foil wrapper in front of her. “Open this.”
She fumbled a few times, probably because he was still stroking her, still dragging out her orgasm, and she could hardly concentrate on anything except how freaking amazing it felt. Finally, with shaking hands, she extracted the rolled rubber.
He twisted his body so that his shorts-covered erection was practically in her face. “Take them off and put it on me.”
He continued the relentless thrusting, never breaking stride. Her body was coiling again; dear God, she could feel another orgasm building.
She tugged at the button at his waist, pulled apart the tines of the zipper, and shoved the shorts and his boxers down his legs. Luckily, he wasn’t into tightly fighting clothing or else she’d never have been able to accomplish the task, given their awkward position. Which was good, because she most definitely did not want him to move his fingers away from where they were at that moment.
His erection sprang free, bouncing against his abdomen, and she took a moment to appreciate his girth. Oh, this is going to be good.
She licked her lips.
“I like the way you’re looking at me right now.”
She glanced up, into his eyes. His pupils were so dilated, they looked black. His lips were slightly parted, and he was breathing so heavily, he was on the verge of panting.
He’s enjoying this as much as I am.
What a heady feeling. Like they were on equal footing, despite him being in charge at the moment. Or maybe because of it.
“Blow job was not on the agenda for this go-round, but if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to change my mind.”
She quickly sheathed him, not because she didn’t want to wrap her lips around his cock, but he was in charge, and she wasn’t about to break any of his rules.
He shifted his body, moving so that he was kneeling between her thighs, without pausing in his stroking. “How close are you?” he asked.
She watched for a moment as he stroked himself with one hand and her with the other, his gaze on his fingers moving in and out of her, and the coiling orgasm kicked into high gear.
“Really, really, oh God, so close,” she gasped out.
Suddenly, he pulled his hand away, grabbed her hip, and with his other hand still on his cock, he pushed into her, stretching, filling her—and sending her tumbling right over the edge of that second climax that he’d been working so hard on.
She shrieked and reached up, wrapped her arm around his neck, and dragged him closer so she could kiss him while her body spiraled out of control, and he pumped his hips so hard, so fast, her head bumped into the headboard.
His body stiffened, he twisted out of the kiss, and gave a shout as she felt him pulsing inside her, and her inner muscles kept clenching, milking him, taking everything he could possibly give her.
With a gusty sigh, he rolled onto his side, taking her with him, and she grimaced as her knee protested.
“Here,” he said, and he gently lifted it and lay it across his thigh.
“Thanks.”
“Oh, that was entirely my pleasure.”
She giggled. “I don’t know, I got two orgasms out of it, and you got only one.”
“I was going to try for three for you, but I knew I couldn’t hold out.”
“I have no complaints.”
“Glad to hear it.” He kissed her nose and rolled away from her. “I’ll be right back.”
He was back a moment later, sans the condom, and still gloriously naked. Without saying a word, he turned her onto her side and tucked a pillow between her knees so that her bad knee was cradled in the softness. Then he slid between the sheets behind her and pulled her back so that she was nestled against his hard body so perfectly complimentary to hers. She sighed and closed her eyes.
He whispered, “Get some sleep. Tomorrow is a big day. We have to make sure you keep your job on Thursday.”
Her eyes popped back open and reality hurtled toward her with as much force as her orgasm had hit her earlier.
She’d better enjoy this snuggling while she could because it ended in five hours.
At 6:00 a.m. they would begin the quest to ensure she kept her position at the company—like she deserved.
Chapter Nineteen
Elliot woke with his arms wrapped around a beautiful woman…whose body was stiff and unyielding.
He opened his eyes, rolled onto his back, and stretched. “Er, good morning?”
“Morning,” she said brusquely, pushing herself into a seated position, holding the sheet to her breast like a protective coating and crossing her arms. “I can’t believe I slept this late.”
He had no idea what time it was, other than it was definitely daytime, based on the sunlight haloing the curtains covering the windows. “Um, maybe because you didn’t go to sleep until 1:00 a.m. last night?”
She pursed her lips.
“Something the matter?” he asked carefully. What the hell had happened between snuggling together as they fell asleep and waking just now?
“No. Yes. We have a lot to do today. Can you please leave, so I can get myself situated?”
“Okay...” He dragged out the word as he climbed out of bed and swiped his shorts and boxers off the floor.
“Take all of your things, please.”
He grabbed his duffle without looking at her. He’d had enough one-night stands in the last couple of years to recognize a brush-off, except this wasn’t at all how he thought this particular morning after would go. For Christ’s sake, they still had to work together. Seemed to him, even if she hadn’t been pleased with the way things went last night—which he just couldn’t believe—she’d want to talk about it, work things out, so that their professional relationship wouldn’t be strained.
Not to mention, he hadn’t gone into last night with the idea that it wa
s a one-night stand. He’d thought…well, he expected it to be the beginning of a beautiful relationship. One that lasted past the morning after. Long past.
He paused at the door. “Do you want to talk about this?”
“If you’re serious about helping me, we have too much to do. We can’t afford to waste any more time. If you aren’t planning to help, please leave so I can get started.”
He felt his shoulders tense at the implication. “So last night was a waste of time?”
“I didn’t say that.”
He risked a glance over his shoulder. She sat on the bed, arms still crossed, studiously staring in the opposite direction. The only indication she felt anything at all about last night were the two bright spots of color on her cheeks.
But he had no idea if they were from embarrassment or desire. Well, actually, he had a pretty good idea.
Which sucked.
“Right.” Part of him wanted to leave, to fully leave—out of her house, out of her life. Hell, this position had been so short, he wouldn’t even bother adding it to his résumé.
Except the other part of him couldn’t leave her stranded. She’d probably fall down the stairs if she tried to maneuver them on her own.
He deliberately ignored the fact that she had managed to get up and down them yesterday so that she’d be presentable for Chelsea’s visit.
And even if she was mobile enough on her own, he still needed to help her fight for her position. Whatever he felt about last night and her reaction this morning, he couldn’t abandon her now. He’d committed to helping, and frustrated or not, he couldn’t turn his back on her.
“Let me know when you’re ready to go downstairs,” he mumbled, and then he gently closed the door behind him before walking across the hall to the bathroom so he could take a shower.
Once he was dressed, he hesitated in the hallway, unsure whether he should go downstairs or hang around until she was ready. He listened through the closed bedroom door but couldn’t hear any sounds.
He rapped his knuckles against the slab of wood. “Are you ready to go downstairs?” he called out.
“Not yet. Can I text you when I’m ready?”
He didn’t bother to reply before turning away and heading down to the main level. Let her wonder if he was still there.
He made strawberry pancakes and fried up some bacon, then added more berries on the side. He’d just flipped the last hotcake when she texted, so he turned off the burner and went upstairs to retrieve her.
She’d managed to get dressed, wearing heading-into-the-office appropriate clothing as opposed to comfortable for the sake of her bruised leg clothes, and she’d done her hair, added makeup and jewelry. This was her shield, he realized. She’d put on this protective layer to create even more of a barrier between them than her stiff attitude had.
Carrying her to the kitchen had never felt so off. She didn’t put her arm around his neck, just sat there primly, with her hands in her lap, looking at anything at all other than him. He pretended to trip over the last step just so she’d impulsively throw her arms around him.
Damn, he was pathetic.
“Smells delicious,” she said with fake cheer.
“Thank you.” He placed her on a stool at the counter, pushed her food toward her, and poured a cup of coffee. Then he scooped up his own plate and drink. “I’m going to go eat outside.”
“Wait, I can go with you.”
He shook his head. “I need a few minutes. To get my head on straight.” No point in hiding it from her. She knew damn well what was going on. Well, maybe not what was in his head, but she had to realize this wasn’t the way he’d expected their relationship to play out.
“Oh.” She dropped her gaze to her plate. “Right. Of course.”
He devoured his breakfast in no time at all and then continued to sit out there until he felt guilty because she was right; they had a lot of work to do today.
When he returned to the kitchen, she was standing at the sink, balancing on one leg, rinsing dishes and attempting to load the dishwasher. She’d already cleaned the griddle and frying pan, which were drying in a rack near her elbow.
“What are you doing?” he demanded, hurrying over and placing his hands on her waist to keep her from falling.
“Just trying to contribute. You’ve been cooking and cleaning up for me, and I feel guilty.”
“The only reason I’m even here is because you’re injured.”
The statement hung in the air between them, and he knew damn well she was reading into it, wondering if last night had happened because she was injured. Or had it been the pressure of everything—his family, the new baby, whatever conversation she and his grandmother had in the waiting room? The board meeting that would make or break her career. Her father, who didn’t love her the way a father should. The way she deserved to be loved.
While they’d been in the thick of it, and as he drifted off to sleep with her body tucked into his own, he’d convinced himself that it wasn’t any of those things. That it had been two adults who were attracted to each other and nothing else mattered.
By the light of day, now that lust wasn’t clouding his brain, he was beginning to see things more clearly. Maybe he had been a means to an end. She’d wanted, or maybe even needed, a release, and he’d been handy.
End of story.
Gritting his teeth against the cold, hard truth, he lifted her into his arms.
“Hey, what are you doing?” she demanded. Soapy water ran down her arms onto her shirt, leaving wet spots like polka dots on the green, satiny material.
“The doctor told you not to be on your feet until your appointment next week.” He placed her on the couch and caged her in with his arms, much like he had last night. Her eyes flared and her breath hitched as she stared up at him.
Was she as turned on now as she’d been then? He considered bossing her around like she’d asked him to last night. The request had taken him by surprise initially, but he’d had no issue doing what she asked. It had been a hell of a turn-on, which he hadn’t expected.
Usually, when he was with a woman, he let her take the lead. With the exception of Maddy, he hadn’t known the other women he’d been with very well before they jumped in the sack. Which meant they knew far better than he what got themselves off.
Amelia had been different. He would’ve sworn she didn’t know what exactly pleasured her, until he took charge. Or maybe she had wanted to fully let go, to completely turn off her COO persona, and just feel.
Oh, he’d been happy to oblige her. He’d be happy to repeat again right now, except the way she’d acted this morning pulled him up short, left him shaking his head and backing off.
Not the time, not the place, definitely not the woman.
“So Stay. Off. Your. Feet.” He bit off each word, partially out of frustration, partially in an attempt to get his point across.
“Fine,” she said, clearly annoyed. “Can you please get my laptop?”
“Yes.”
He strode upstairs and grabbed her computer bag from the floor, which was where she’d dropped it before they’d tumbled into bed together. After depositing it on the couch next to her, he said, “I’m going to finish cleaning up the kitchen, and then I’ll be in here to help with whatever you need.”
When he returned to the living room, she had her feet propped on the coffee table, her laptop resting on her thighs. She glanced up and frowned.
“This is going to be so hard.”
“I’m sure, but we can do it,” he said.
She shook her head. “I mean the actual calls to the board. I do so much better on calls when I can pace while I’m talking. Just sitting here, it feels like my brain isn’t working at full capacity. I can’t think.”
“You can. You just need to make the first call. Don’t you know these people?”
“Some of them I’ve known for half my life.”
“Then these calls shouldn’t be hard. Even if you are sitting down.
”
She dropped her gaze to her computer screen. “What if my father has already reached out to them?”
“Do you think he has?”
She seemed to ponder that for a few moments. “No. He isn’t one to ask for advice. The only reason there even is a board is because he chose to make the company public in order to make more money.
“And there is the possibility that he’s worried they may question his decision. Duane hasn’t been around for the past five years, and before that, he worked for the company during his breaks from college, but he was never as into it as I am.”
“Sounds to me like you should make those calls. What can I do to help?”
“Check your email, see if anyone has commented on the date change or the purpose of the meeting. I just realized we never did switch the date back to tomorrow. If there’s nothing in your inbox, we know for a fact my father hasn’t reached out to them.”
Elliot grabbed his computer and deliberately sat in the chair instead of next to her on the couch. She raised her brows but did not comment.
After scanning through more stuff from HR, he came across an email from one of the board members and read it out loud. “Hello, Elliot. Walter has put a meeting on our calendars for Thursday, same time as the board meeting you just moved. Was this deliberate? Were you not supposed to move that meeting? I need to know as I have something else I can slide into that slot if possible.”
“Who is that from?”
Elliot looked at the signature. “Rand McMillen.”
Amelia nodded. “Rand is a good man. And sharp. It sounds like my father re-added the meeting but didn’t tell them what it was about.”
“Proving your hunch about him correct.”
“So it appears.” She took a deep breath, blew it out slowly. “Okay, let me call Rand and tell him what’s up. He’s probably going to be the easiest of the bunch.”
“Good. This will build your confidence for the rest of them.”
They settled into a routine of Amelia making calls, while Elliot managed a spreadsheet, keeping track of who she spoke with and the outcome of each conversation. They worked well together, pushing aside the obvious discomfort from what happened this morning—he wasn’t at all uncomfortable about what transpired between them last night—to do what they needed to do in order to save Amelia’s job.