by Maggie Riley
Next to the fridge was a smaller fridge. It wasn’t until he opened it that I realized it was a wine refrigerator. Of course it was. I stored my wine in boxes on my counter. He had a whole appliance dedicated to it. Probably proper matching wine glasses instead of my mismatched thrift store finds.
“Hope this is ok.” He offered me a glass of what I was certain cost more than the eventual cab ride I was going to need to take home.
“It’s great,” I said before even taking a sip.
He smiled. A real smile. One that made me heat up from the inside.
Suddenly his spacious kitchen seemed tiny and hot. I moved past him into the rest of the apartment, holding tight to my wine glass, feeling totally out of my element. The living room was enormous, with floor to ceiling windows that gave me an incredible view of Central Park.
There were little details that made it seem like a home, an actual home. I was especially surprised by his furniture choices. I had assumed he would have favored streamlined modern designs in neutral tones. Instead there was a giant sectional – a giant red sectional – that looked unbelievably plush and comfy. It looked like the kind of sofa you crawled into for a movie night, only I didn’t see any TV.
There were plants everywhere – ferns and bonsai plants. I smiled when I passed a shelf with impeccably trimmed tiny trees. I could totally see Jack messing around with a couple of those to blow off steam. The perfect activity for a designer and a control freak, especially one as creative as he was.
The whole place looked state of the art, which made sense considering how tech-savvy Jack was. I looked around wondering how many things Jack had programmed or personalized on his own.
“Do you approve?” Jack asked.
I turned, to find him standing there watching me, his arms crossed, his glass of wine dangling from his fingertips.
“It’s beautiful,” I told him. “I really like your couch.” I put my hand on the back of it and gave the cushions a squeeze. It felt as soft as it looked.
“You’re welcome to test it out,” he offered, that inscrutable look still fixed to his face.
I took a sip of wine, adding to the warm, happy buzz that was coursing through me. Fuck it, I told myself. Embrace the weirdness of this moment. Embrace the unknown. Decision made, I put my wine down on the coffee table and flopped – face first – onto the couch.
It was incredible.
“Wow,” I managed, my voice muffled by the cushions. “It’s so squishy.”
I felt the couch shift and I flipped over to find that Jack had joined me.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone test out my sofa like that,” he observed.
“Clearly you’re inviting the wrong people to test it,” I told him. Now I was really feeling the effects of dinner’s wine.
“Clearly.”
I sat up, certain that my hair looked absolutely insane.
“This is a great TV couch,” I said. “But you don’t have a TV.”
“TVs are becoming obsolete,” he informed me.
I groaned, flopping back against the pillows. “Are you one of those people who are too good for TV and movies?” I sighed. “Because I can’t understand the point of living if I can’t do it while watching The Bachelorette.”
He laughed. A real laugh. The sound sent a thrill through me. He was damn sexy when he smiled. When he laughed. When he breathed.
“I’m definitely not too good for TV,” he said, reaching behind him and pulling a remote off the side table. “But I am a snob about how I watch it.”
He pressed a button and I heard a soft whirring noise. The lights dimmed, and shades on the windows began to lower, along with something else. A screen. An enormous screen. The room got dark, the atmosphere becoming much more intimate and romantic.
“You have your own projector?” I asked, wide eyed.
“Yep.”
“And it’s controlled by that remote?” I crawled over to his side of the couch to get a better look. “That’s incredible.”
“Uh huh.” Jack’s voice sounded strained.
When I glanced up at him, I realized his eyes were focused downward. Following his gaze, I realized that not only was I on my hands and knees, but the position had caused my skirt to bunch up at the top of my thighs, exposing most of my legs. But that’s not what Jack was staring at. No. He was staring at the buttons that had come undone, leaving my blouse gaping open. My black lace bra and generous cleavage was on full display.
I sat back immediately, my hands going to my chest, my cheeks growing hot.
“I am so sorry,” I fumbled with the buttons, my fingers somehow forgetting how to make them work. “Dammit,” I muttered.
“Stop,” Jack’s voice was low. Raspy.
Like he had done at the restaurant, he placed his hand over mine, but this time his fingers brushed against the swell of my breast. Before I could stop myself, a breathy sigh escaped my lips.
Jack froze. I froze. I was pretty sure all of Manhattan could hear my heartbeat. Then, slowly, Jack’s calloused thumb caressed the soft skin above my bra. My breath caught in my throat, my eyes fluttering closed. I was afraid this was all a dream.
“You’re driving me insane,” he murmured, his touch tantalizingly light.
“I am?” my voice sounded high pitched.
“Fuck yes.”
And before I could say anything else, Jack pressed a hot, opened mouthed kiss against my cleavage.
Oh my god, his mouth felt so good. My head fell back as he kissed his way up my throat, his hand sliding up the back of my neck, cradling my head.
“Libby,” he said huskily. “Open your eyes.”
I did. And he kissed me.
Chapter 14
JACK
I was out of my mind. My entire life was about control. Was about knowing what I was doing and how I was doing it. I didn’t act on impulse. I wasn’t reckless.
Until now. That goddamn moan had been the last straw. I could have walked away from the tight suit, from the bunched up skirt, from the open shirt, from the black bra. But that little moan that Libby had made when my fingers brushed against her unbelievably soft skin – that had done me in.
And the moment I kissed her, I knew I was truly, and completely, out of my element. This was lust like I had never felt. Desire like I’d never experienced. I never wanted it to end.
Libby’s lips were soft, immediately opening for me. With my hands tangled in her wild hair, I thrust my tongue in her mouth and she responded in kind, her arms wrapping around my neck. Her breasts were pressed against my chest, and I could feel her nipples – taut and tempting. My tongue tangled with hers, the kiss wet and deep and unending. She moaned against my mouth, and whatever last bit of control I’d had, broke.
Unable to help myself, one of my hands skated down her back, cupping her gorgeous ass and pulling her up hard against me. All of her curves were plastered against my body, and still it wasn’t enough. Leaning forward, I lowered her down onto the couch, grateful that it was as wide as it was. It wasn’t as comfortable as my king sized bed down the hall, but there was no way in hell I was going to wait that long to touch her.
Her tight skirt kept her knees pressed together, so I slid one hand down to her thigh. As I inched her skirt upward, her hands clutched at my shoulders. I stilled until she wiggled beneath me, arching against my hips, urging me on.
God, she was so hot. I kissed her, lost in the taste of her, in the way she kept moaning, the sound vibrating through me. I shoved her skirt to her waist, freeing her legs, which she immediately wrapped around my hips.
Fuck. The feel of her softness against my hard cock was so intense that I lost myself in it for a moment, the sweet thrust of her hips meeting mine the only thing I was aware of. Her skin was like satin as I dragged my hand down her thigh, bringing her leg up higher against my side, changing the angle. She gasped against my mouth, her fingers clutching my shirt so tightly that I thought it might rip. I didn’t care. She could tea
r the damn thing off of me. As long as I could do the same with her clothes.
My palm couldn’t get enough of her soft skin, traveling upwards again, seeking out whatever was beneath that skirt of hers, needing to remove any other barriers between us. Beneath the tightly bunched fabric I found a tiny slip of satin. I groaned as my fingers brushed against her wetness.
I pulled back.
Libby lay on the sofa beneath me, her mouth red and swollen, her face flushed and her eyes glassy with lust. Her chest was heaving with each breath she took, the remaining buttons on her shirt straining against her magnificent cleavage. I wanted to keep kissing her, but I wanted to taste her even more.
Watching her face, I hooked my finger around her thong and pulled it aside. Her eyes widened, but so did her legs, opening for me even more. She gasped as I teased my thumb along her clit, her teeth biting down into her bottom lip. It was the hottest thing I’d ever seen.
Sliding down her body, I unbuttoned her shirt and pressed kisses against any bare skin I uncovered along the way. Her neck, her breasts, her stomach. When I got lower, she lifted up her hips to help me push the skirt up and out of the way, baring herself to me.
“Oh my god,” Libby’s words came out breathy as I put my mouth on her.
I licked her, her taste intoxicating. Her hands fisted in my hair, holding me to her as if there was any possible chance of me pulling away. Sliding my hands under her fantastic ass, I tilted her hips so I could go deeper, my tongue thrusting inside of her.
She cried out, the sounds of pleasure urging me on as I teased her with my mouth, my tongue, my teeth. I loved how she seemed to come undone with each touch, panting as she arched against me. Dragging my tongue over her clit, I sucked it into my mouth. I couldn’t get enough.
She was close. I could tell by the way her hands tightened in my hair, how her back curved up off the sofa. Just as she reached the edge, I slid a finger inside of her and she shattered. As she shuddered beneath my hands, I stroked her softly, easing her down from her orgasm.
My cock throbbed, and I wanted nothing more than to unzip my pants, roll on a condom and bury myself inside her hot, tight wetness. But with Libby’s release came the return of my sanity. I was doing this all wrong – completely backwards. If I was going to get involved with an employee – and my libido had clearly made that decision for me – I was going to do it right.
Carefully I smoothed Libby’s skirt back down. She blinked up at me, her lips red and glossy, her face soft with satisfaction.
“Hi,” she practically purred, sitting up on her elbows.
“Hi,” I managed, my eyes taking all of her in.
God she was beautiful. It took literally every ounce of restraint I had in my body to keep from kissing her again. Because I knew if I kissed her, we would be going further than was appropriate. At this point. I needed to regroup – regain control of my senses and my cock.
Then Libby yawned. She covered her mouth quickly and let out a giggle.
“Sorry,” she said.
“Don’t be,” I got to my feet and pulled her along with me. “It’s late.”
She yawned again. “I feel terrible,” she glanced down at my crotch, where my cock was still standing at attention. Her cheeks got red, which only endeared her to me more. And made me want to fix this. To do it properly.
And that meant taking a step back. For now.
“Why don’t I call you a cab?” I asked, hoping I didn’t sound too much like an asshole.
Her eyes widened a little bit, but she quickly recovered, putting a smile on her face.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said brightly. Too brightly.
Dammit. I had sounded like an asshole. And before I could explain myself, she was already buttoning her shirt and smoothing down her skirt, her face a mask of forced indifference.
“I should go,” she told me, slipping her shoes on.
I hadn’t even realized they had come off. It had probably happened when my attention was otherwise occupied. I ran a hand through my hair realizing that I was royally fucking this up. But she had already grabbed her coat and purse.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she told me, and then she was gone.
Chapter 15
LIBBY
What was wrong with me? If it weren’t for being unsure of how clean my cab was, I would have banged my head against the divider as we headed towards my apartment. I was an idiot. After all, everyone knew that rule number #1 of ghost writing the biography of a genius billionaire was DON’T LET HIM GO DOWN ON YOU. Or at least, that’s what it would be if someone had written a manual on such things.
Maybe that could be my next book.
I groaned, thinking of how insanely awkward it had been standing in front of Jack, the intensity of my orgasm rendering me too blind to see that he had wanted me out of there immediately. Hadn’t he?
Tomorrow was going to be awful. The next two weeks were going to be awful. Now that I knew exactly what kind of pleasure he was capable of giving me with that mouth of his it seemed impossible I’d be able to think of anything else when I saw him. Especially because I still wanted him. Badly.
And I thought he had wanted the same thing. His body definitely had. The way his cock strained against his pants had confirmed that. So why had he sent me home so quickly? I didn’t understand him at all. One minute he was hot – hot, hot, hot – the next he was cold and impossible to read.
My face got hot just thinking about tomorrow. Having to walk into his office pretending that he hadn’t given me the most incredible orgasm of my life. What if everyone could tell that something had happened? The thought of Mrs. Reynolds realizing that I had slept with Jack made me so embarrassed that I considered asking my cab driver to just take me to one of the bridges where I could throw myself over.
This was a disaster. But as I arrived home, and paid the cab driver, the sheer act of giving him the money that I sorely needed, reminded me that I needed this job. And orgasm or no, I was going to do it. And I was going to do it well.
I thought about burning my green suit. When I got up the next morning, I shot it a death stare from where I had left it crumbled on the floor. Never again, I told myself, dressing in a high necked, ankle length dress. I looked a little Amish, but it was for the best.
“You can do this,” I told myself in the mirror. “You are a professional. Ok, sure, you’ve never slept with anyone you’ve worked for before, but you’ve only worked with little old ladies, who are nice and sweet, but definitely aren’t your type. It’s not your fault that this boss is probably the hottest guy you’ve ever seen, plus he’s kind of nice – or at least he is when he wants to be – and he’s obviously smart and driven. And yes, he definitely knows what’s what when it comes to your clit, but last night was a mistake and you are not going to make that mistake again. You are going to be cool. Calm. Professional. You can do this.”
It was a pretty good pep talk, but the moment I walked into Jack’s office, all the confidence I had forced into myself immediately dissipated. He sat behind his desk looking put together as usual, and hot as fuck. As usual. Unfortunately, now I had intimate knowledge of other things about him that were quite sexy as well. Such as his mouth on my–
“Good morning!” I forced a smile onto my face.
He looked up from his pile of paperwork, and to my great surprise, gave me a smile in return.
“Good morning,” he said, standing and coming around the desk.
Uh oh. I had really been counting on having that giant metal desk as a buffer between us, so as he approached, I backed up until the backs of my legs hit the chair in front of his desk and I sat down abruptly.
He walked past me. Confused, I twisted my head to find him shutting his office door. Fuck. This was not good. He was totally going to fire me. Dammit. My poor cat was never going to get the vet care he needed. And all because I couldn’t keep it in my panties.
“Libby,” Jack came back around in front of me. He leaned his hi
ps against his desk. Hips that I remembered pressing against mine as I had wrapped my legs around him, pulling him down on the couch with me.
Heat bloomed on my cheeks. And between my legs.
“Mr. Willis, I–”
“Jack.” He gave me a wry smile. “After last night, I think we are permanently on a first name basis.”
“About last night–” I started, but he held up a hand.
“May I say something?”
“Uh?”
“I should apologize,” he said, surprising me once more.
“Apologize?” I managed, not sure if I should be happy or disappointed. At least he didn’t sound like he was about to fire me. Yet.
“I should have been more respectful,” he told me.
My eyebrows went up.
“Respectful?” I was feeling a bit like a parrot but I had no idea how else to respond. I was so confused.
He smiled at me. “I could have handled it better.”
Oh, he handled me pretty damn well. In my opinion, that wasn’t the problem.
“I’d like to take you out,” said Jack.
I couldn’t have heard what I thought I heard. Could amazing orgasms bring on selective deafness? Or some form of insanity?
“I’m sorry, what?” I asked, refraining from hitting the side of my head to clear my ears.
“I’d like to take you out,” Jack repeated with what seemed like infinite patience. “On a date.”
“A date.” There I went again – Libby the parrot.
“Dinner perhaps?” he stood and came over to me. “Or a movie.”
It was a movie that had gotten us into trouble last night. Or rather, movie equipment had gotten us into trouble. Who knew where an actual movie would lead us?