by Cynthia Sax
“Thank you,” a deep voice drawls, the low tones originating from behind me. “We try our best.”
I shriek, jump to my feet, and turn, dropping my bra. The behemoth from the park catches the lavender lace before it touches the floor, twisting the flimsy garment in his tanned fingers. Lightning flashes in his dark eyes. His square chin juts.
He’s big and sexy and impossible to resist so I don’t even try. I fling myself against his massive body, wrap my arms around his waist, and bury my face in his black cotton shirt. “You’re here. You somehow knew we needed help and you came to our rescue.” He’s warm, his body heat engulfing me, and he smells good, his lemon-and-cedar cologne filling my nostrils.
My mystery man stiffens, not moving for three agonizing heartbeats, and then he stuffs my bra into the front right pocket of his pants and hooks his arms around me. “I’ve got you, kitten,” he says softly, the words rolling up his chest, his body hard, not an ounce of give on his big physique. “You’re safe.” He rubs my back, his stroking reviving the passion I thought sated.
“You knew where to find me.” I snuggle deeper into his enormous form. “It’s as though we’re connected.” My parents have this same connection and their relationship lasted. Will our relationship last also? I tilt my head back and meet my stranger’s gaze. His eyes are the darkest brown, almost black. “How did you know where I was? Did you feel it in your heart?” I place one of my palms over that area on his chest.
“No.” His lips flatten. “I saw you on the security cameras.” He turns his attention to Camille. She’s staring at us as though we’re two mythical beings. “As should have been explained to you during your orientation session, every inch of this building is monitored by functioning cameras.” She swallows hard. “We monitor the stairwells, the hallways, the parking garages, your cubicles, even the rooms with the paper shredders.” He squeezes my right shoulder. “When you find yourselves in trouble again, signal to the cameras and someone will be sent to retrieve you.”
“Mr. Henley.” Camille’s voice drips with awe, her demeanor extremely professional and respectful. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir. The advancements you’ve made in cybersecurity are legendary.”
Red streaks across my behemoth’s broad cheeks.
“You’re Henley,” I murmur, stunned. Henley is one of the top executives at Blaine Technologies. He’s a man no one messes with, a man even my tough-as-nails uncle is wary of crossing. “My father admires you. He says you protect not only Blaine Technologies’ cyberassets but its physical assets and people too.”
“Does he say that?” Henley curls one of my blond tendrils around his index finger.
“Yep, he does. You’re a badass.” I smile up at him. “And I showed you my breasts.” This should bother me, but it doesn’t. I like that he’s seen my breasts.
Henley’s eyes glimmer. “You showed everyone your breasts.” He steps back and slowly fastens the buttons on my blazer. I stiffen, vividly aware of his thick fingers, the silver scars on his knuckles, his bare skin so close to mine. “Breathe, kitten,” he murmurs.
I inhale deeply, count to five, and exhale, my chest aching, my heart pounding, my head spinning. “But—”
“We’ll talk later.” He glances up at the camera. His gaze then lowers to Camille. She’s watching us with wide eyes. “I have to mention this to your manager.”
“I take total responsibility,” I volunteer. Camille opens her mouth. “You can get the next one,” I assure her. “My father says no one ever gets fired for one mistake. We can take turns.”
“There will be no need to take turns.” Henley strides toward the door, his tread soundless, his movements smooth and graceful. “Because this won’t happen again.” He waves his passcard in front of the black box, the light turns green, and metal clicks against metal. “In the future, you’ll use the elevators.” He holds the door open for us. Camille exits first, leaving us alone.
“You’re very sexy when you talk tough.” I linger in the stairwell, gazing up at him. Will he touch me now?
Henley leans forward, his breath wafting on my lips. “I doubt you’ll think I’m sexy once I’m done talking tough.” He places his hand on my back, I feel the contact through the layer of fabric, and he pushes me forward.
Camille waits for us over the threshold, her face remaining pale, her gaze fixed on Henley. She looks at him as though he’s a god and this irks me. He’s my behemoth, not hers.
“We’ll have lunch in the boardroom on the fourth floor,” Henley informs us. “Katalina and I have to discuss some matters first.” I blink. He knows my name. “Camille, relay our meal orders to Stan in the cafeteria and then join us. Ask him for my usual.”
“We’re having lunch in the legendary Fortress.” Camille appears dazed. “What do you want, Purple?”
“You can choose.” I shrug. I have no food allergies.
“French fries, chicken fingers, and green Jell-O it is, then.” She grins. I grin back at her and she stomps down the hallway.
Henley sighs. “She went the wrong way.” I meet his gaze and my grin widens. He shakes his head. “You two are impossible.” He opens a door. “In here.” He ushers me into a small meeting room. “This should be sufficient for our needs.” He locks the door and pulls the blinds, creating complete privacy, his presence filling the space.
I want his presence to fill me. “And what needs are those?” My voice is husky.
His eyes gleam. “The need to set some rules.”
Chapter Three
* * *
HENLEY PACES THE small room, his movements drawing my gaze. I sink into one of the black leather chairs, the seat cushioning my ass.
“The dress code at Blaine Technologies is strict,” he informs me. “The preference is a black suit. Gray and navy blue are also acceptable colors.”
“I don’t wear black.” I fold my hands on top of the tiny table and Henley glares at me. “My father told me not to wear black, so I don’t,” I explain.
Henley’s face softens. “Your father’s not here.”
My father isn’t here and I miss him desperately, having spent the last five years by his side. He isn’t alone; neither of us are. My father has my mother to keep him company and I now have a rule-setting behemoth.
“When I give my word, I don’t break it.” I lean forward, willing Henley to understand. “Business deals are built on trust—”
“And trust is built on truth,” Henley completes my father’s saying.
“You remembered.” I smile at him, pleased.
“Yes.” Henley resumes his pacing, striding back and forth, back and forth, his hands gripped tightly behind his back as though he’s winding up for another round of his rules. “When we’re at work, we have to be professional. No taking our clothes off. No touching. No talking about sex.”
“Is thinking about sex okay?” I skim my fingertips over the collar of my blazer. “Because I think about having sex with you all of the time. Right now I’m thinking about sucking you off.” I play with my top button. “Can I fit your entire cock in my mouth?” I drop my gaze to Henley’s groin. His dress pants tent over an impressively large bulge. “I don’t think that’s possible. You’re huge.”
“This is a serious matter.” As Henley passes behind me, he drifts his fingertips over my shoulders and I feel his touch through my blazer, his promise of more caresses unspoken. My nipples tighten in anticipation.
“I agree. This is a very serious matter.” I wiggle in my seat. “Our first time is important. It is a defining point in our relationship, and I haven’t had sex in five years. I’ll need some guidance. You’ll have to tell me how hard to suck and warn me when you’re about to shoot your hot cum down my throat. I don’t want to lose a drop.”
He reaches above the closed door and his suit jacket pulls up, revealing a gorgeously tight ass. Henley fiddles with the camera, the click declaring his intentions.
“The professional rules apply only to public spaces.
” He sits across from me, rolling his chair away from the table. “And you’re not sucking my cock today.”
“No?” I glance down at Henley’s groin. “But your cock needs to be sucked.” He pats one of his thighs. “And I want to give you what you need.” I rise to my feet, circle the table, and slide onto his lap. His legs are firm, his muscles unrelenting, his strength reassuringly palpable. He’s healthy and male and I’ll make him mine.
“I decide what I need.” Henley hooks one of his arms around me and pulls me into his big body. He’s warm and hard, the ridge in his dress pants pushing against my ass. “We’re at work.”
I swing my legs to the left, perching on one of his thighs, and smile up at him. “We’re not in public.” I brush my fingertips over his square chin, his skin smooth. “Misbehave with me, Henley.” I lean forward and press my lips against his.
Henley stiffens, his mouth remaining closed to me, his lips motionless, and I pull away, his silent rejection slicing into my heart. He groans and surges forward, capturing my face between his grooved palms, smashing our lips together.
I gasp and he invades, his tongue sliding along mine, exploring, conquering, claiming. He tastes of black coffee and a distinctive flavor I suspect is all him, and I open more to him, hungry for his kiss, hungry for him.
I flatten my hands against the lapels of his jacket, savoring the sensation of soft fabric pulled tight over hard body, and I close my eyes, focusing on his tongue stroking in and out of my mouth, his cologne, his heat, giving myself totally to him.
For a big man, he touches me delicately, his grip on my face light yet sure. He grazes my cheeks with his rough thumbs, his caresses lighting sensual fires within me.
I moan, tilting my head back, the movement tousling my hair. Henley tangles his fingers in my cascading curls and his breath hitches, the slight sound exciting me. As he plays with my hair, I become the aggressor, learning the shape and feel of his mouth, clasping his nape with my hands, his neck thick, his form solid against my breasts.
Without breaking our kiss, I turn and straddle him, my gaze meeting his. My skirt hikes up, baring more of my skin. Henley’s big hands drop and he cups my ass, pushing me against the ridge in his dress pants, securing me.
This is what I need. I grind my wet panties against him, the delightful pressure easing some of my torment. The scent of my musk, of my desire, mixes with his cologne. He kneads my ass and I swivel my hips, his hardness divine.
He’ll feel even better without any barrier between us. I lower my hands to his belt and struggle with the buckle.
“No.” Henley covers my hands with his, stopping me.
I frown, confused. His eyes are the blackest black and his erection is unabated. “You want me.”
“I want you too much to rush this.” He turns me away from him, handling me as though I weighed nothing. “Your little friend is waiting for us.” Henley pushes me gently off his lap, forcing me to my feet. “And you may not worry about your reputation but I do.” He tugs on the hem of my skirt.
My behemoth worries about me. He’s putting my reputation before his physical needs. “You’re taking care of me.” No one has ever taken care of me. I’ve always taken care of others.
Henley straightens my blazer. “You’re one of my people now.” He threads his fingers through my hair, smoothing the curls around my face. “And I’ll protect you.”
I grasp his hands and swipe my thumbs over his scarred palms. “I know you will protect me.” I doubt my giant suffered such pain to save himself. He hurt himself protecting someone else. My heart squeezes. He must have loved that someone very much. “I appreciate it. I’m sure she does also.”
“Did,” Henley corrects. “I failed my mom and she died.” He stands, looming over me, his expression heartbreakingly grave.
He failed to protect his mom, hurting himself in the process. I don’t say anything, as words can’t ease the grief or dissipate the bone-deep sorrow. Instead I curl my fingers around his, silently telling him I care. I’m here, by his side. He’s no longer alone.
Henley meets my gaze. “You notice more than fashion, don’t you?”
“Sometimes.” I force a cheery smile, unable to tolerate the somber mood, the sadness suffocating me. “Don’t tell anyone or you truly will damage my reputation.” I wink at him and his lips quirk upward. “Can we break your rules this once? I want to hold your hand when we exit this room.”
“We can’t always have what we want, kitten.” Henley releases my hands. His erection has eased, his professional demeanor restored. “We’ll take the elevator.” He opens the door.
“No more stairwells for me.” I breathe deeply as I pass him, exiting the small office. His scent soothes me.
We walk down the hallway. A tall thin man with a ridiculously large handlebar moustache strides toward us. His gaze lifts above my head, his eyes widen, and he turns abruptly to the left.
As we pass cubicles, conversations stop, the silence eerie. A plump woman in an ill-fitting designer suit approaches us. Her face pales and she pivots on her heels, takes two brisk strides in the other direction, ducks into an office, shutting the door behind her.
We stop at the elevators. “Everyone is scared of you,” I tease.
Henley jabs the button. “Yes.” His lips are flat and his face is dark. Their fear hurts him.
My humor evaporates. “You’re huge.” I maintain my smile. I’ve heard the stories about dead bodies, missing people, eliminated threats. More than Henley’s size scares his coworkers. “It could be worse.”
“Could it be worse?” he rumbles, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his pants.
“At least people take you seriously.” I arch my back, sticking out my generous chest. Henley’s gaze doesn’t move from my face. “No one assumes you’re a dumb blonde.”
He grunts, saying nothing. The elevator doors slide open. I enter first. He pushes behind me and presses the button for the fourth floor. The three dark-suited men already in the elevator take one look at Henley and step away from us. I face them, standing in front of my behemoth, protecting him.
An unacceptable silence falls in the small space. The men have passcards clipped to their belts. They’re coworkers. They should, at the very least, acknowledge our presence.
“Hi. I’m Kat.” I beam at the men. They stare back at me, gazing at me as though I have three heads. “Though my manager, Miss Yen, calls me Purple. I think it is because of my lavender suit.” I pluck at my blazer. “Isn’t it lovely? Yes, it is last season but I simply can’t discard it, not when I have the shoes to match.” I stretch out my right leg, showing them one of my shoes. “They’re perfect, aren’t they? It took me ages to find the exact right shade.”
I pause, allowing the men the opportunity to contribute to my one-sided conversation. Their gazes flick between Henley and me, their foreheads furrowed with lines. The poor darlings are confused.
I take a deep breath and continue with my stream of senseless babble. “I’m an intern. Today is my first day working with Blaine Technologies and I don’t know many people, well, except for Mr. Henley.” I glance over my right shoulder. Henley’s eyes glint. “He’s been very kind to me, very, very kind.” My voice lowers suggestively and his thick eyebrows knit together.
I return my gaze to the three men. “Everyone is so nice.” I increase the wattage on my smile, my cheeks aching with the effort. “You look like nice people also . . . and smart,” I add. “My father says a company is the reflection of its people. After meeting you, I know why Blaine Technologies is one of the best companies in North America.”
“In the world, miss,” the taller man squeaks. “Now that we’ve bought our biggest rival.” The men nod vigorously. They resemble three office-themed bobblehead dolls.
“Oh, yes, you bought your rival.” My smile is genuine. Blaine Technologies bought my family’s company. “Volkov Industries is another wonderful company, founded by two brilliant brothers. I understand the eldest brothe
r gets most of the attention but the youngest brother develops the product.”
The doors open. “Out.” Henley pushes me out of the elevator.
“Oops. Gotta go.” I laugh as the doors close, the men’s expressions reflecting shock.
Henley shakes his head. “Why do you play that role?”
“I play that role because thinking I’m a dumb blonde makes them happy.” I glance around me. A huge bruiser of a man sits behind a desk, his chair positioned to the left of highly secured double doors. “They feel smart. My father says happy smart men work harder.” I stride toward this gatekeeper. “Hi. I’m Kat.” I hold out my hand.
The big man hesitates, his gaze moving from me to Henley and back to me, and he grasps my fingers. “Grant.” His eyes glow. “And we all know who you are, miss.” He squeezes and releases my hand.
“Grant,” Henley growls.
I maintain my smile. “That’s okay, Henley.” I lean toward Grant and whisper, “I was testing the cameras in the stairwell.”
The big man leans forward and whispers back, “They’re working.”
“Grant,” Henley repeats, the command in his voice thrilling me. He’s dominant and mine.
Grant’s spine straightens. “Your other guest has been isolated in the boardroom as you instructed, Mr. Henley, sir. She accessed level three before we detected her presence.”
“That’s unacceptable.” Henley frowns, his expression growing even more fierce. “Call for a department meeting at two o’clock.”
Camille must be his other guest. I chew on the inside of my cheek. What has she done now?
“Yes, sir.” Grant nods curtly. “Lunch has already been delivered.”
“Thank you.” Henley waves his passcard over the security box by the door, punches eight digits into the keypad, and presses his thumb against a small screen. Multiple locks click and he opens the door, holding it for me.
“What was that about?” I hustle along the glass-lined hallway. Every room is locked, the doors closed. Grim-faced men and women in dark suits stare at screens.