by Rin Daniels
He shifted behind her.
His cock touched her skin. Hot, hard.
So close.
Kat laid her face down on the desk, barely aware she’d all but kissed one of his folders, and clung to the far edge in desperate hope. “Please,” she sobbed. “Please, please.”
He slid his fingers into the waistband of her French cut panties. “Good girl,” he murmured, drawing them down. “Very good. You know what good girls get?”
A deliciously deep dicking, Kat hoped. The kind of ride that would drive everything else out of her head.
“Give,” she panted.
Adam’s hips fit against her backside so snugly that his cock slid against her cleft, and she bit back a demanding cry. So good. Even that much had her writhing for it.
He muttered something she didn’t catch, but it cracked through his teasing edge. Foil tore, Adam drew away long enough to roll a condom over his erection, and then one hand caught her hip.
She held her breath.
The tip of him rubbed against her sex. Coated itself in the signs of her wild arousal and drove her steadily, wickedly insane.
But before Kat could summon the words to beg, to demand, Adam seized her hips in both hands and thrust himself fully inside her.
It was enough. It was too much. She’d hoped to last longer, to ride this out, but he’d teased her to the breaking point. The feel of him pushing through her body, sliding into her wet flesh, filling her, stripped her of whatever inhibitions she had left. She gripped the edge of the desk in tight fingers, shouted, “Yes!”
“Yes,” he echoed on a growl, and rocked against her. The desk shuddered. He withdrew, filled her again, forcing a cry from her. Her elbow hit his keyboard, sent it clattering over the edge.
“Wait,” she gasped, only for it to hitch as he thrust into her hard enough that her body lit up like the fourth of July. God, she hadn’t even come yet, and she was trembling all over.
His fingers gripped her hips hard enough to leave bruises. “Leave it,” he grunted, and then she couldn’t think of anything else but him as he filled her, stroked her, slid inside her and stirred her up until she was crazy with it.
She couldn’t breathe.
Her legs wouldn’t hold her up.
Everything narrowed down to a fine point, that rhythmic pace as his cock buried itself in hers. The drag of his body against hers.
Adam’s breath tightened. Quickened. His hands left her hips to slam against the desk on either side of hers, his body pinned hers to the surface as he drove into her again and again.
His breath shuddered against her cheek.
She opened her eyes.
The line of his jaw hardened, skin stretched taut over his cheek. Sweat beaded on his temple.
One hand left the desk. Flattened over hers, fingers entwined.
Too much.
Her orgasm welled up from the physical delirium he coaxed inside her body and cracked into a thousand glittering stars. It didn’t rise. It exploded, whipped through her like a storm. She threw back her head, slammed it against his shoulder and didn’t even notice as he swore, hips pinned to hers.
Her cry echoed through the office.
His teeth locked over the curve of her shoulder, but not hard. Just enough to coax another shuddering sound from her, a gasped, “Oh, God!” as the pulse he sucked into his mouth spiked.
His hips jerked, slammed awkwardly against her—shoved her a little higher onto the desk. This time, when he came, he groaned her name.
She rested her cheek on the file folder and tried very hard to remember how to breathe.
Now that, she decided as Adam’s weight pressed her firmly to the desk, was the perfect way to deal with a bad day.
* * *
Adam had done a lot of things—and some of them were even stupid—but he had never screwed a woman in his office on a workday.
Especially not one he’d meant to dissolve all contact with.
His head spun. Her scent filled his nose as he took a deep breath; her skin smelled like soap and oranges. Delicious. Lickable.
Jesus Christ, he’d turned into his father.
She stretched underneath him, purring like a sated kitten, and the pulse in his gut turned into a reflexive kick in his cock. She chuckled, the soft line of her ass pressing back against him.
He hissed. “Whoa, there, happy.”
“Me?”
“Not you,” Adam replied, earning another smothered laugh. “That was, um...” What could he say?
It was way beyond anything he’d ever expected.
“Fast?” he offered ruefully.
“Mm.” She eased out a breath as he stepped away, then ended it on a sigh that curled his toes. “No complaints here.”
Taking care of the condom and tucking himself back into his pants didn’t take any sort of edge off. In fact, now that he’d gotten that out of the way, his brain irrevocably flipped to grainy pictures and the blackmail sent with them.
He nudged the small trashcan back under his desk, slanting his gaze away from Kat as she knelt to pick up her discarded coat. Her cheeks, the curve of her shoulder, even the flesh cupped by French lace glowed a rosy shade. Embarrassment?
He opened his mouth, only to shut it again when the sound of glass shattering crackled through his awkward preamble.
What the hell would he say? Hey, Kat, thanks for the awesome lay, but I think you’re blackmailing me.
No way.
“What was that?” he asked instead.
Kat fumbled at the coat pocket, turning away to draw the coat back over her bare stomach. “Sorry,” she said sheepishly. “My mom’s text tone.”
He lifted a hand to indicate she should go ahead and check it, sinking back into the chair behind his desk.
The pleasant buzz of a damn good orgasm faded to a sick curl.
Did he really think Kat was capable of sleeping with him for money? That she could be an accomplice to the blackmail in his inbox?
If he did, what did that say about him?
No. He couldn’t think this way. There could have been anyone out there. They’d been in public.
Kat’s eyes rounded. She jammed her phone into her pocket.
“Kat?”
The smile she pasted on didn’t fool him. Neither did her patently false cheer as she said hastily, “Well, I’m sure you have work to do. Being an entrepreneur and all.” She backed for the door, belting her coat.
Her gaze fluttered everywhere but at him. He stood, hand flattening on his desk. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Her smile widened. “Um, this was... All that?” A vague gesture. “You were incredible. Really. I...” She grabbed the doorknob, unlocked it. “Everything is fine, I just have to go and see my mom.” She paused, staring at the door.
Adam’s mouth began to twitch. He couldn’t help it. She looked like a terrified rabbit, all ruffled fur and flat ears.
Kat turned again. “I want to see you again,” she declared. Her eyes met his. “Lots of you. Maybe naked. No, wait, definitely naked—”
“Kat,” he said again, an outright chuckle that slammed into a sudden knot of tension as a hard knock rattled the door behind Kat’s back.
She jumped, clapped a hand over her mouth before she managed more than a startled yelp.
The person behind the door must have mistaken that for a offer to enter. The doorknob turned, pushed open.
Adam half-rose out of his chair as his life went to hell in front of his eyes.
Rudy Goldberg froze in the doorway, his bushy black and gray eyebrows beetled fiercely together as Kat righted herself on her wicked orange shoes. “Pardon me, young lady,” he said in that imperious tenor that grated on Adam’s nerves. It declared he knew what was going on here—and didn’t like it.
Kat immediately smiled. Like someone flipped a switch. Gone was the fumbling, red-faced woman who’d backed out of his office faster than he’d screwed her in it. Her chin was high, shoulders straight. “Ple
ase, excuse me,” she said brightly. “I was just leaving.”
Sweat gathered on Adam’s forehead. He set his jaw. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Patterson,” he said, forcing himself to sound as cool and put together as he didn’t feel.
He’d just been so deep inside her that his body still burned from the memory.
And she, bless her quick mind, got the gist in a glance. “Sorry again for my apparel, Mr. Laramie,” she replied brightly. “I’ll make sure to have that data to you by next Tuesday.”
Warm sincerity radiated from eyes he’d watched cloud over with the force of her orgasm minutes before. She was good.
Too good.
“It’s my fault for calling you in on your day off,” he replied. “Just do what you can today. Thank you.”
“Pardon me, sir,” she added to Goldberg, who stepped aside with suspicion clear on his face. “Have a good Friday!”
She left with an easy stride that belied the fact that she only wore underwear under her raincoat. If he hadn’t seen it himself, he’d never believe it.
Her mile-long legs and summer orange shoes vanished from view.
Goldberg didn’t come in. “Patterson, you said?”
“An intern helping me compile the data lost from yesterday,” Adam replied, clipped to the quick. “Did you need something?”
The old man was built like a reed, tall and thin, but he held onto a cane Adam had never seen him use seriously. He couldn’t decide if it was an affectation or there for those moments when Goldberg didn’t have to hide his weakness.
Adam didn’t much care. The way the man looked down his prominent nose at Adam pissed him off.
“Did we lose anything important in the crash?” Goldberg asked, tucking the cane in the crook of his arm.
Adam met his gaze across the expanse of his office. Thank God neither he nor Kat had been overly messy. The board chair couldn’t see the keyboard by Adam’s feet. “No,” he replied evenly, well aware of the significance of the man’s less than subtle emphasis.
Golberg hummed an irritated note. “It’s appalling. A multi-billion dollar company and it can’t even settle its own technical issues.” He turned away. “Don’t waste my time today, young Laramie.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir,” Adam replied, every word thinned to the barest of courtesy. It didn’t matter. Goldberg was already leaving.
Anger and adrenaline and the nerves peeled back by a near miss congealed in Adam’s skin. He’d been stupid. Beyond stupid. Worse, he’d acted just like his father.
And Jesus Christ, it had been amazing.
As the far door closed behind the one man he needed to impress most, he gave up.
Sinking back into the chair, he laughed long and hard, until tears streamed from his eyes. Then he covered his face with one hand and sat in simmering silence.
Without looking, he tugged the folder Jordan had left him closer.
The keyboard by his feet slid down the chair rung, clattered against the floor.
God, he was an idiot.
Knowing exactly what kind of stupid choice it was, Adam tossed the folder into the trash.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE TEXT HAD been clear. Help me, her mother had sent, and a store name Kat knew. It was in the same center as her salon.
Kat’s stomach roiled, nausea and fear bottled up by the show she’d put on for Adam’s benefit. She couldn’t even take the time to feel giddy after the stunt she pulled in his office. Such a cliché. A freaking stereotype—and she’d loved it. Every second of it.
Except the exit.
Wow, so not the cool dame she’d hoped to be when she swept back out again.
She didn’t know who the old guy was, but the sudden strain in Adam’s features said he mattered. She’d done her best with the details she’d had.
Thank God he hadn’t asked questions.
Her hands shook as she pulled into a parking lot.
The loan sharks must have gotten tired of waiting. Did they send someone to scare her mom? To hurt her?
The store was one of several boutiques clustered together, each sharing archways into the others. Kat ran across the sidewalk at a brisk clip, too afraid to actually sprint in the heels but goaded by the thundering pace of her heart.
Please, just let her mom be okay. She’d handle the rest somehow.
Shoppers milled along the sidewalks, arm in arm or meandering aimlessly in the humidity. Most had bags. She dodged them, muttering apologies, and pushed her way into the air conditioned store Barbara Harris had texted from.
Two sales clerks and a handful of shoppers all looked up in startled curiosity as Kat called, “Mom?”
One girl, the taller of the two, gestured back to the fitting room, just as Barbara called, “Back here, sweetie.”
The first seed of doubt oozed into Kat’s fear.
Summoning up what composure she could, she tightened the belt on her coat and made her way to the curtained fitting rooms.
Barbara pulled aside the curtain with a flourish. “Ta da!”
Jumpsuits were back in style. A certain style, anyway. The one Barbara chose did flattering things for her still trim waist and long legs. It was orange, a halter neck, and she’d paired it with a wide green belt.
The sweat on her skin hadn’t even cooled yet, and Kat felt her temper roil into a full-on blush. “Mom,” she began, stretching the syllable out with care. She grabbed the edge of the fitting room wall. “Is everything okay?”
Her mother twirled, and Kat noted green sandals with a kitten heel. “What do you think?” she pressed. “Isn’t it fabulous?”
A crack of pain lanced through her temple. Kat unclenched her teeth. “You look like a pumpkin,” she said quietly. “Don’t pair orange with green accents. Mom, why am I here?”
Barbara studied herself in the mirror. Her mouth pursed, nose wrinkling, and she tugged the belt off. “You’re right,” she mused. “Maybe gold. Summer, do you have a belt in gold?”
“Coming up, Mrs. Harris,” one of the sales girls called back.
“Oh, don’t look like that,” Barbara added, pulling her hair up in front of the mirror and turning this way and that. “I’m in desperate need of your help.” When Kat only stared at her, she reached into her dressing room and pulled a navy blue romper off the hook. “I can’t decide which is better for the season. Orange is so summery, but the sheen on—”
“Mom.” Kat sank into the nearest chair, her knees giving out as the full force of the situation sank in. Her hands shook as she covered her mouth, eyes closed. “You can’t text me for help like that.”
“Why not?” Barbara held up the romper, frowning at it. “I need help.”
“Context!”
“Don’t raise your voice,” her mother insisted.
“Your belt,” Summer the sales attendant said. She flashed Kat a warm smile.
Save it, Kat thought. She knew that smile.
She wasn’t a customer. And neither was her mother.
As quickly as she fell into it, Kat surged up from the chair. “Put it back, Mom. We’re leaving.”
“Yeah.” Barbara studied her reflection, turned and flattened a hand over her still trim stomach. “Let’s try the other shop across the street.”
Kat wanted to scream. Instead, she managed a very mild, “Mom, for the last time, we don’t have any money. You can’t buy these.”
“Katherine.” Barbara turned, blue romper tossed over her shoulder, and put both hands on Kat’s shoulders. Her pale green eyes were solemn as she stared hard into her daughter’s face. “Listen, sweetie. You know your father left me with some money. Not a lot,” she added when Kat opened her mouth, “but some.”
“Then we should—”
“Since you won’t let me help you,” Barbara said over her. “Let me give us a day. Just the two of us. Mother and daughter.” Her mauve lips curved, and the smile softened her features. Etched lines where Kat hadn’t seen them before. “Hair, nails, something pretty
. Come on, sweetie. What do you say?”
She had a lot to say. A lot to argue.
But her mom’s hands, warm and firm on her shoulders, squeezed gently, and her smile slipped into something Kat didn’t want to think of as pleading.
One day. A few items.
A day trip.
They’d have to tighten up after this anyway.
And her mother had already sold some of her items for the loan she’d acquired for Kat’s benefit. Now she wanted to spend money on a mother and daughter day.
The resistance melted out from her spine. Her shoulders slumped. “Fine,” Kat sighed, regretting it even as she did. “But I’m going to have to buy some pants.”
“Oh?” Barbara glanced at her bare legs. Her eyes narrowed. “Oh. Well. I can see you’ve been busy.”
Kat refused to blush. “You sort of dragged me out here,” she pointed out.
Barbara grinned, as unapologetic as she’d ever been. “I note you paused to buckle up all those straps on your shoes, though.”
The flood of heat at her forehead, her cheeks, warned Kat she lost the fight.
Barbara laughed, pleased as punch now that she’d gotten her way. The bangles on her wrist jangled as she waved Kat back into the main store. “Go find something that fits. My treat.”
Kat sighed. “Okay. But then we’re budgeted.”
“Yes, yes,” her mom trilled, and vanished again into the curtained dressing room.
“Capris?” Summer asked, waving from a wall hung with all the season’s latest colors.
Kat spread her hands. “I guess so.”
To the girl’s credit, Summer had an eye for color and fit, and sent Kat back into the dressing room beside her mother’s to try on a handful of items. She wasn’t stupid, either—Kat tried on complete outfits, top to bottom.
She’d end up with one of them, anyway.
With Barbara’s encouragement, Kat chose a pair of coral capris folded at the hem, a sheer turquoise blouse over a lacy white tank, and her own shoes. Saying nothing about it, Summer folded the yellow raincoat into a boutique bag.
Barbara paid in cash.
Kat took the bag as Summer counted out the change in a twenty and three tens.