Office Player

by Eden Summers

The man’s ego could overflow a football stadium and the women he slept with could fill all the seats.

  She had practically drooled the first time they met, with the haphazard way his hair fell to highlight those dark eyes. The healthy tan and athletic physique only added fuel to her eagerly blazing fire.

  Now, he sat beside her, his leg brushing hers, and she wondered what other great assets he had to offer under all those expensive clothes.

  To occupy herself, she mentally counted the liquor bottles lining the wall behind the bar. Her count reached two before her concentration shot to hell and her gaze caught his reflection in the wall of mirrors behind the display shelves.

  Her vision followed his strong cheekbones, moved down the corded muscles of his neck, over the opening of his business shirt while his head tilted back as he drank.

  Their gaze met briefly in the mirror, his heated, hers surprised, before the connection shattered when he slammed his glass down with a thud.

  “Come on. We’re leaving.” He threw money on the bar and shoved off his stool.

  “Excuse me?” She swiveled toward him, her brain needing extra seconds to catch up as it struggled to swim through the liquor.

  “I said, we’re leaving. Get up. I’m taking you home.” His words were calm, firm, and in complete contrast to the stormy expression in his eyes.

  “No.” She turned back to the bar, intent on gesturing for another shot. Not that she needed more liquor. Her head already buzzed. But she knew it would piss Dean off and for some reason that task had bumped to the top of her agenda.

  As she lifted her arm, a firm hand encased her wrist. She gasped, and anger hardened her expression…until the heat from his touch brought a spark of awareness she didn’t appreciate.

  It had taken months of determination to forget the kiss they shared almost a year ago. A kiss that blew her mind and left her achingly vulnerable, yet hooked on his effortless charm.

  She couldn’t stand to be another face in his never-ending line of women. To sleep with him but mean nothing to him emotionally.

  Self-preservation demanded she step back, to maintain professionalism. To also keep her job and her sanity.

  So, that’s what she’d done for endless months. Dean’s sexy bedroom eyes and husky voice had tested her resolve on a daily basis. Now, his fingers touched her, and the alcohol made her question whether it meant more than common sense suggested.

  She glared at the hand holding her wrist. “Let go of me, Dean.”

  He moved forward. Close. Too close.

  His breath warmed her neck and sent a shiver through her chest. “You’re making a scene. If you haven’t already noticed there’s a table full of my father’s business associates behind us. Now, unless you want daddy dearest to tan your ass for acting unprofessional, while still technically within business hours, I suggest we leave.”

  The visual of Max spanking her made blood rush from her head. Goosebumps covered her skin as she pulled herself out of the horrific vision. She glanced over her shoulder and confirmed his words. In the corner of the room sat a table full of Max’s associates, thankfully engrossed in drinking and conversation.

  “Come on. I’ll drive you home.”

  She inched away, his fingertips scorching a trail along her skin—over her wrist and down the sensitive area at the back of her hand. It felt like a caress. A deliberate provocation. And she had to close her eyes to fight for composure.

  A lift home might be for the best. The train was scary enough when sober, let alone hyped up on this man’s lingering touches.

  Ignoring the soul-shattering jolt his physical contact evoked, she straightened and tried to focus on the way the ground wavered. Walking would be a difficulty she hadn’t anticipated.

  She cursed the polished floorboards and her love of stiletto heels as she took the first step.

  The ground moved like a water balloon under her feet, her heel losing traction as she fought for balance. She grasped for anything within reach so she didn’t land on her ass, and came up with Dean’s arm.

  His strong as steel arm.

  She clung to him with the force of an eagle’s talons, unwilling to let go and gracelessly drop to the floor.

  The superior smirk he fixed her with spoke volumes, making her wish she gripped him for reasons other than her drunken stupidity.

  A blush burned her cheeks as she gave a tight smile and righted herself. “I’m fine.” She patted away the hand trying to keep her steady. “Just practicing my dance moves. That one was called the baby giraffe.”

  He chuckled, the deep melody washing through her like a gentle stream. “Yeah, clearly you’ve got the moves like Jagger.”

  Chapter 2

  Dean led the way onto the busy sidewalk of the Melbourne CBD, resisting the urge to lean into the long, blonde hair cascading over Beth’s shoulder. Something sweet, entirely feminine, and uniquely her filled his lungs. If he tilted his neck a little, his face would be surrounded by the mass of golden strands swaying in the late spring breeze.

  He tried to shake the infatuation, instead concentrating on guiding her around the throng of people as they headed toward his car parked a block away. He held her steady, resting his hand on her waist while he walked her through the traffic.

  When her steps faltered, he swore aloud. His eagerness to keep her upright sent his hand gliding under the fabric of her suit jacket to land on her silk blouse.

  The delicate material barely formed a barrier against the pliant, tender flesh underneath, and the last thing he needed was more temptation.

  He felt like a damn teenager, his cock already on standby, poised, eager, and readily available to commence the launch sequence at a second’s notice.

  He frowned, wondering how the hell he would get her home without making this more awkward. Obviously, offering her the walking stick growing from the crotch of his pants wasn’t a good idea.

  And even if they did have that sort of playful relationship, her snappy mood was a great indicator she wasn’t in the mood to joke around. All he could do was pray she remained reasonably sure-footed in those tiny black heels for the next block. Then he would gain some space.

  But that didn’t help with the nagging need to know why she was emotional in the first place.

  Even when frustrated at work, Beth still had a soft smile for everyone. She wasn’t high maintenance, didn’t crave attention, and rarely showed weakness in any form.

  She didn’t usually drink much either, not even at work functions—well, not since one memorable kiss a lifetime ago—and he’d never seen her drink during work hours. Ever.

  He hated seeing her like this. His temper spiked with the possibilities that could have arisen from a private meeting with his father. If the matter was personal, her best friend Angela would have given him the heads-up, but the receptionist had been clueless.

  He didn’t even know how much she had to drink, but her glazed expression indicated she’d been generous in her consumption.

  She shuffled forward, leaning harder into him. “You smell so good,” she moaned into his neck.

  Yep, she was definitely trashed.

  “Beth.” His tone held a warning as his cock twitched. He would need a damn leash on his dick if she didn’t settle down.

  Daydreams already clouded his judgment. Images of dirty things in darkened alleys made him harder by the second. If she moaned in his ear again he doubted he would be able to resist the urge to lean her against the closest building and take her mouth. Hard and fast.

  “No, really.” She rested her head on his shoulder, her hair splaying over his chest as her footing straightened out. “You always smell so good. It’s infuriating.”

  He suppressed a groan and directed her around the last street corner, heaving a sigh of goddamn relief when he spotted the parking garage.

  He paid extra money to have his car stored on the ground level, close enough to the attendant’s booth to be under constant supervision.

  There wa
s only a few more yards until freedom. A few more steps until thankful space. A few more heartbeats before he could move her pliant body away from his and regain his ability to think clearly.

  “Why do you have to smell so good?” she grumbled. “As if being smart and sexy wasn’t enough, you have to smell all masculine and dreamy. It’s an unfair distribution of assets.”

  The compliment didn’t surprise him.

  The woman saying it did.

  It wasn’t a secret he found it effortless to score with the ladies. Women seemed to crave his power, along with his bank balance. He just assumed Beth was immune.

  The vain women of society, the spoiled heiresses, the air-brained models, yeah, they all wanted to be with him, but Beth didn’t look at him too much anymore.

  Intoxication was well and truly doing the talking.

  “Sexy, am I? I bet you’ll regret saying that on Monday morning.” He tried to downplay her words, hoping for a change in subject.

  Self-control didn’t sit high on his list of favorable qualities, and at the moment, it barely registered in his vocabulary. If she continued to test his resolve, he would either make the mistake of seducing her or have to end the night with a bag of ice on his balls.

  Neither option was enticing.

  “What?” She turned her head toward him.

  Those big green eyes pierced his soul, making him ache from the tips of his fingers to the arches of his feet.

  “As if you didn’t know. That’s the one thing that pisses me off about you, Dean Sutherland; you’re too arrogant. If it weren’t for that ego of yours…”

  What?

  His chest tightened with the need to ask. Instead, he ground his teeth and tried to convince himself her words meant nothing in her drunken state.

  He strode into the parking garage and gave a wave to the attendant in the compact booth. His black BMW Z4 sparkled like the night sky, even in the dreary light. His ride was the only stable female in his life—beautiful, reliable, and faithful.

  Perfection.

  He released Beth’s waist and moved to open the passenger door. She wobbled, teetering on her heels, and he cursed his stupidity for not warning her first.

  “Shit.” He slid toward her, trying to steady her by pressing his body into hers. He gripped her hips, their bodies molded so close his growing erection rubbed against her abdomen.

  She stared at him, those beautiful eyes filled with interest. The world fell silent around them, their rasped breaths the only noise…except for his hard cock crying for attention between them.

  “Sorry,” she whispered. Her clawing fingers clung to his shirt. “I’m really not that drunk, just more than a little clumsy today.”

  He swallowed, hard, and distracted himself by trying to recount how much money he lost on the last Melbourne Cup. He needed to move away, to take a step back from the friction heating his body and the blatant attraction in her stare.

  She had to stop looking at him like that. With wild eyes filled with palpable desire capable of destroying him one slow inch at a time.

  Her hand rose, her delicate fingers running through the hair around his face.

  Christ.

  Every nerve in his body buzzed on full alert. His scalp tingled. Goosebumps cascaded down his spine. And then there was the throb in his groin that wouldn’t fucking quit.

  The woman continued to undo him with her eyes, her touch, her need, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

  If she were sober, he wouldn’t have a second thought about leaning in to kiss her. He would slant his mouth over hers until they were breathless. Mindless. But she wasn’t.

  Beth was drunk and dealing with issues he hadn’t had a chance to discover yet.

  He narrowed his gaze, planning to say something cocky, something arrogant and egotistical to annoy her into backing off. But then she had to go and smile at him. A slow seductive curve of lips that brought out two tiny dimples and made his breath catch.

  She didn’t give him a chance to speak before her hot little tongue snaked out to wet her plump bottom lip, making it glisten in the fading light.

  Who the hell was this woman?

  The Beth he knew was sassy and as sharp as a spitfire when they verbally sparred. In contrast, she was always professional and usually a little reserved when it came to things of a sexual nature.

  She would flirt and tease on occasion, batting those long lashes with exaggerated femininity when she needed his help. But he hadn’t seen the spark of interest in her eyes since their kiss. And he refused to let history repeat itself with another drunken regrettable moment.

  Last time, the night had started off simple, with the company’s usual end-of-week drinks in the downstairs bar.

  He remembered being surprised to see her with a glass of wine in her hand. She even teased him with suggestive glances that made him lose all self-control. The well-mannered woman had turned into more of a playful hellcat with each sip of sparkling liquid.

  When people started to wave their goodbyes, he had offered to take Angela, Steve, and Beth to Onyx, the newest club in the city. He told himself he only wanted more time with her. Some personal one-on-one out of their working environment, to see if the connection between them was more than mere office flirtation.

  Seduction hadn’t been in his plan.

  He wasn’t willing to risk the relationship they already had. But Angela had seen through his denial and pulled him into one of the darkened recesses of the club’s entry hall to tell him in no uncertain terms she would castrate him with a dull knife if he hurt Beth in any way.

  The caution hadn’t been necessary. Beth had meant something to him. He hadn’t been sure what that something was. But it wasn’t a mere itch. Until he downed a few more drinks and she turned into a temptation he couldn’t resist.

  The four of them had scored a booth in an obscure corner to the side of the main bar. Although there had been enough room for all of them, Beth remained standing, her eyes focused on the dance floor, her body swaying to the beat of the loud music.

  He’d been riveted on the way the lights glimmered in her eyes; the way each song brightened her smile. On occasion, she would glance his way, her teeth biting into her lip, then as quick as she turned to him she would look away, a flush heating her cheeks.

  He remembered thinking it would be a mistake to get involved; to risk their friendship to satisfy his need to taste her. But the alcohol buzz had worn down his rational thinking, letting the dictator between his legs take hold of the reins.

  His feet had moved of their own volition, coming to a halt in front of her. And before he could stop himself, he was leaning into the warmth of her body, asking her to dance.

  The loud beat of music hadn’t compared to the thump, thump, thump of his chest when she shook her head, rejecting his offer.

  He hadn’t expected the cold shoulder. Women usually begged for his attention and being turned down by Beth made it even harder to handle.

  He camouflaged his disappointment with a friendly smile and a shrug, then he gave the excuse of buying the next round of drinks so he could lick his wounds in private.

  When he turned to leave, she stopped him, gripping the lapels of his suit jacket. Her eyes searched his in hesitation, the noise from the club fading away as she slowly pulled him forward.

  There hadn’t been time to think. Her unsure innocence caused him to react. He wrapped his arms around her, one encompassing her waist, the other gripping her neck. Tilting her head back, he aligned their mouths and peered into her eyes with knowing intent.

  He battled to control himself, needing to give her a moment’s hesitation to pull away.

  She didn’t.

  She fucking didn’t.

  Beth gripped his lapel tighter in one hand, the other snaking around his neck, stopping to tease his nape by digging light fingernails into his flesh. The hint of perfume tormented his senses and instinct led him to tilt his head into her neck. He nuzzled at the silken skin, he
r essence consuming his lungs.

  He nipped once, grazing a path with his teeth up to the sensitive place below her ear. A needy moan escaped her lips, her alcohol-sweetened breath brushing his face. Her head nuzzled into his, searching, seeking, and he didn’t second-guess pulling back slightly before moving in to taste.

  The first caress was featherlight, smoother than silk, as her mouth moved against his. He swept his tongue along the seam of her lips, needing more, and enjoyed the way she granted him access. Her fingers ran through his hair, lightly tugging, spurring him to new unrestrained heights, turning him wild. Savage.

  He stepped into her, grinding his erection against her pelvis, wanting her to feel his desire, needing her to know the way she affected him. She moaned, kissing him back with simmering heat. Her tongue tangled with his, the soft tentative strokes making the desire to grind against her unbearable.

  No kiss had ever been sweeter, no woman more hypnotizing, and drunk or not, no one had ever affected his heart the way she did.

  When she abruptly jerked back, turning away, he hadn’t known what to think. Not until the lust in his veins slowed and the blood roaring through his ears dulled to a lazy rush.

  Angela and Steve had been watching. Wolf whistling. Yelling.

  The regret in Beth’s eyes had damn near killed him. He was furious with the need to brush away the heat in her cheeks. To lean in and tell her it was okay. But she transformed in an instant, straightening her shoulders and sobering with the speed of light.

  Five minutes later she was gone, leaving with nothing more than a wave and a rueful glance.

  Instinct had demanded he chase after her, but Angela stopped him.

  Give her space. I know she cares for you, but she hasn’t been with a guy in a while. And you’re her boss. She needs time to think it through.

  He’d made the stupid decision to let her go, giving her the weekend to think it over. During that time, his hopes had grown.

  He imagined them moving forward, maybe dating. Yes, dating. He had to get to know her out of their work environment. But Monday morning had been a bitch slap of reality.