by Lucy Monroe
"I promise." But he was going to do everything in his power to make her like it.
She clasped her hands in front of her, closed her eyes, lifted her face and pursed her lips as though she'd just taken a bite out of a crab apple.
He didn't laugh. He couldn't. His sex hurt too much, but man, it was funny.
Hadn't she ever been soul-kissed, or didn't she think he could do it? Either way, she was in for a shock.
He lowered his head and stopped to savor her scent. Vanilla and pheromones mixed together in a cocktail that went straight to his head and not the one attached to his neck. He kissed her once, softly, and savored the feel of lips he'd been wanting for four interminable years. Then he broke contact and waited with his mouth poised just above her own.
Two seconds went by. Three. Four. Five. Her eyes opened and looked straight into his. The disappointment there was food for his starving libido.
"Is that all?"
He closed his mouth over hers before she finished speaking, catching her lips apart. He kissed her with all the finesse twenty-nine years of living had given him.
Her lips were soft and so sweet, he would gladly eat them every night after dinner for dessert. Heck, he'd be happy to have them instead of dinner. Anything so he could have her.
He wasn't rough, but it took all his self-control and then some to be gentle, to coax her into accepting the kind of kiss he needed to give her. He nibbled at her lower lip, tasting it with the tip of his tongue. She let her mouth open a little bit farther, and he dipped inside, feeling as if he was on an overdose of pleasure as her honey-sweet taste lured him in farther. He was careful not to dominate her mouth, though. Not yet. He wanted to lure her into seeking more.
He did a series of dip and retreat moves that had him shaking with the effort it took to let her set the pace. But finally, her tongue came in search of his. She slid it along his, inviting him back into her mouth with shy enthusiasm and very little skill.
He let her have her way.
She moaned and arched into him. He cupped that incredible backside he wanted so desperately to see naked with one big hand and pressed her forward. It brought her mound into direct contact with his rock-hard and aching penis.
He could feel pre-ejaculate wet his tip, and he lifted her, using her body to caress his needy flesh. All the while, he knew he was taking it too far. This wasn't the time or the place. He knew the passion was mutual. They could pursue it later. However, none of the arguments could put a hand brake on the need that had been building up for four years.
Worse for his self-control, she was as lost to the pleasure as he was. She writhed against him, her fingers locked like manacles around his neck.
He was so close to orgasm, he could feel the tingling at the base of his shaft.
He used the hand not busy grabbing her butt to feel her up in front. Her shirt was thin cotton, her bra couldn't be padded, not and him feel that hard and tight little peak poking the center of his palm. He squeezed her breast, kneaded it and then rubbed his palm over her nipple until she was climbing his legs, practically straddling him.
One shift of his big body and she was straddling him. He slipped his hand down over the resilient flesh of one of her cheeks, until his fingers were pressing into the apex of her thighs. Her panties were no barrier to him feeling the wetness their kiss had wrought between her legs.
Man, was she hot.
Hot and sexy and so on the edge that he wondered which one of them was going to go over first. Since it was both of them, he didn't even try to stop it. He'd wanted her too long to worry about the embarrassment of coming in his shorts like a horny adolescent.
He slipped his hand inside her panties. Skin so soft, it begged, for one caress after another quivered under his knowing hand. Pressing inexorably downward, he slid his middle finger into the slick and swollen warmth between her legs. Then he started undoing buttons with his other hand and got inside her shirt.
He'd been right. Her bra was some kind of thin, silky material, and it had a front clasp. With the flick of his wrist he had the catch open and was peeling fabric away from his prize, all the while kissing her with hunger built up by prolonged abstinence and fantasizing run amok.
One perfectly shaped mound was enough to fill his big hand. He squeezed and she moaned. He upbraided her nipple with his palm, and she made a deep animal sound in the back of her throat and started rubbing herself against him like a woman on a mission. He bucked against her, increasing the friction of their bodies while his tongue started to mock what his body so desperately wanted to do to her.
Wild desire raged out of control in his body, and he took her nipple between his thumb and forefinger and gently pinched, then pulled it, rolling the sweet morsel between his fingers, before lightly pinching it again.
She exploded, her body bowing, pressing her swollen lips even harder against his throbbing erection, squeezing his finger in rhythmic contractions of her inner muscles.
Her mouth tore from his, and the guttural cry that erupted from her throat sent him into oblivion.
It lasted until stars danced on his closed eyelids and his body had shuddered over and over again in the longest climax he'd ever experienced. When it stopped, he was practically lying on her desk with her on top of him.
Her head landed against his shoulder like a dead weight, her body went boneless against him and he had to hold on to her so she wouldn't fall. Which was no mean feat considering how totally wasted he felt.
She mumbled something against his neck.
"What?" he wheezed, still breathing heavy from the best climax he'd had in ages.
Hell, maybe forever and he hadn't even been inside her.
"I like your tongue."
He couldn't help it. He laughed.
She giggled, and it was such a sweet sound, he hugged her. "I think this is going to work."
"Kissing me? I'd say it already has."
"That, too."
Relief and more anticipation than he'd even been feeling before poured through him. It was all going to be okay.
"What is going to be okay?" she asked just as he realized he'd said it out loud.
"Us. Getting married."
Chapter Two
Daisy's entire body went rigid as Carter's words penetrated the sensual fog that had taken over her brain within seconds of his lips touching hers.
Maybe she was still fogged.
That would explain the hallucinations.
Carter Sloane talking about marriage to her, Daisy Jackson, had to be a delusion.
Even more so than the totally sexy owner of the company she worked for wanting to kiss her.
She had to wonder, had the whole darn thing been a fantasy? Was she dreaming? She'd had enough of them about Carter Sloane since coming to work for Sloane Electronics ten years ago.
None of her fantasies had had as much solid realism as the six-foot three-inch, two-hundred-pound body beneath her. His heart pounded against her chest. Had her dreams ever had so much detail before? She knew he'd climaxed. Her ears were ringing from his shout, but there was an awful lot of him left pressed against her feminine flesh.
Even in her sexiest fantasies, she hadn't envisioned quite that level of magnificent male presence.
Okay, definitely no fantasy, but the other…
She could not convince herself that he'd said the other. It would be too out of this world. Too extraordinary, and remarkable things like that did not happen in her humdrum life.
So, not only had she gone completely over the edge from a simple kiss, but she was definitely hallucinating. Not good, Daisy.
She was twenty-eight years old, and she could count on one hand the number of times she'd climaxed while making love. She wouldn't even have to use all her fingers. And here she had gone and had the most mind blowing orgasm of them all from a kiss! Okay, maybe more than a kiss, with his finger still inside her.
Oh, gracious.
His finger was still inside her. And it felt goo
d. Wonderful. Magnificent even. She wanted to move against that finger and experience a small taste of the pleasure he'd just given her. While he was probably lying there wondering how to get her off of him. How embarrassing.
She couldn't stay draped over Carter like a sack of potatoes. She had to get up, but how did she politely ask a man to stop playing with parts of her body she hadn't mentioned in public since tenth grade sex education class?
"Um, Carter?"
"Hmmm?" His chest rumbled with the sound against her bare breasts, and a new worry assailed her.
How was she going to cover up and get off him at the same time?
"I… Could you… Do you think you could move your hand?" she finally spit out.
"Sure."
She sighed with real relief. That had been a lot easier than she'd thought it was going to be.
He moved the hand that still held her in-no-way-relaxed nipple between two fingers so that it cupped her breast instead. Then he sighed, too, as if he liked the position.
She knew she did, but she bet she was getting heavy. She wasn't some tiny thing like his former fiancée. They were the same height, but there the comparison ended. She was dark where Phoebe was light, and Daisy's female attributes could best be described as generous.
Carter didn't seem to mind, not with his hand cupping one of her boobs as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do, but maybe he was just being polite.
He was breathing too hard to be comfortable.
If she released her hold on him, he'd probably get the hint that he could let her go without hurting her feelings. Pulling her hands from around his neck, she pressed on his chest, but instead of him releasing her, she ended up propped above him, her lower body just as close to his as it ever had been.
His blue eyes were smoky with what she figured was satisfied lust. She liked that because she was responsible. It was a very novel experience.
His mouth curved up at one corner in a smile she could only describe as smug, and he winked at her. "We're dynamite together."
He sounded really happy about that.
She couldn't imagine why, unless it was just the kiss-and-conquer male hormone showing itself. Their apparent sexual compatibility was unlikely to impact either of their futures.
Darn it.
She frowned in concentration, trying not to react to the feel of him touching her so intimately. "Carter, I really need you to move your hand."
"I did."
"Your other hand."
"This one?" And he moved it all right, backward and forward, bringing forth an involuntary reaction from her body, making her arch and go stiff and then shiver from the soles of her feet to the top of her head. Oh, goodness!
She collapsed on top of him, her nose buried in his chest. "I want to get off." She mumbled the blatant lie into his shirt.
"I'll get you off, honey. Just give me a sec." And he proceeded to show her just how easy it would be as his hand did insidious things to her unmentionable places.
She loved it, but she wasn't as lost to her body's insistent needs as she'd been a few minutes before. For instance, it occurred to her that the door to her office was wide open and anyone could walk in and see them like this. It wouldn't be so bad for Carter; he was on the bottom.
But she was on top, and security might think she'd gone crazy and attacked him in a lustful frenzy.
Sure.
Right.
Whatever.
Right now embarrassment and fear at the possibility of getting caught definitely overruled desire.
Only he didn't seem to realize that at all. One more dangerous caress from that amazing finger and she was going to forget her manners and good sense all over again.
She couldn't think of what to do, so she hit his shoulder.
His hand stopped moving, and relief warred with disappointment inside her. "What was that for?"
"You said if I hit your shoulder, you'd stop."
His body stilled completely. "You want me to stop."
No. She wanted him to keep going. All night long. She wanted to have one of those nights she'd read about in romance novels, but that wasn't going to happen. She didn't know why he'd kissed her, but she couldn't believe he wanted her, not really.
There had to be some sort of logical explanation for what had just happened.
So, she lied. Again. It was getting to be a habit. He was a bad influence on her. "Yes. And I want to get off of you."
His hand seemed to convulse in a possessive move that made her feel connected to him in a really frightening way. As if all this had been real and not just some sort of freaky aberration in her otherwise unexciting life.
"I want to kiss you again."
She lifted up in panic. "No."
He frowned. "Why not? I made you like my tongue."
Heat scorched up her body, and she knew her cheeks weren't the only things blushing. "Yes, you did, but you also said I had a choice, and I choose to stop now."
He closed his eyes and made a sound as though he was in pain, but his hand moved. Actually they both did, falling away from her body to lie like sleeping tigers on her desk. In her mind, they were that dangerous. She eyed them, flicking her gaze from one to the other with distrust, but he remained still.
"If you're going, go. I don't think I can keep my hands off you for much longer." His voice was tight with strain, and both hands curled into fists.
She believed him.
Scrambling off of him, she hoped he wouldn't open his eyes until she was covered up.
He didn't move, nor did his eyes open, and she spun away to refasten her bra and button up her shirt with her back to him.
"One day soon, I'm going to see every pale peach inch of you."
She started at the sound of his voice and whirled back to face him. He was leaning against the desk again, his hair mussed, his expression downright feral.
Who would have thought the elegant, sophisticated owner of Sloane Electronics could look so primitive?
She didn't know what to say, but an atavistic shudder shook her. Even as she reacted to that look on the most basic level, she was appalled with herself and horribly embarrassed by the way she had reacted to a simple kiss and some light petting.
It just went to show that six years without sex had left her extremely vulnerable. "I'm sorry."
"What the hell for?"
"I sort of went crazy, and all you wanted to do was kiss me."
"Didn't you notice me going a little crazy, too?" He ran his fingers through dark brown hair. "If anyone should apologize, it should be me, but I'm not sorry."
"Why aren't you? All you wanted was a kiss, and we practically made love on top of my desk."
His eyelids lowered, and the expression on his face was nothing short of predatory. "We were a long way from making love, but I'd be happy to demonstrate the difference."
She backed up a step, even though he hadn't moved. "That's not a good idea."
"Married people have sex, honey. Or didn't you know?" He was teasing her, but she didn't feel like laughing. "I know. I've been married, after all."
And she'd failed spectacularly at it, particularly the sex part. Of course, it hadn't helped that her husband had been a closet drug addict who had wanted a second income to support his habit more than he'd wanted a plain Jane wife.
Carter jerked as if startled. "Your personnel record doesn't show that."
She glared at him. "You've been reading my personnel file?"
"I own the company." He didn't look in the least repentant for invading her privacy like that. "I'm allowed."
She crossed her arms over her chest and sucked in a breath at the friction against her still aroused nipples. "That remains to be seen."
His smile was so sexy, it was lethal, but then it faded, and he was frowning again. "When were you married?"
"I got married when I was twenty."
"It doesn't say anything about it in your file."
"I never included him on
my insurance or anything, so there's no reason why it should."
"When did you divorce?"
"We didn't."
She watched, fascinated, as all the color drained from Carter's face. "You're married?"
"My husband died on our second anniversary." He'd overdosed on heroin while at a party with his drug-using friends.
He'd forgotten it was their anniversary, or more likely simply hadn't cared. Anyway, he hadn't been with her, and after two years married to a man whose moods were drug induced, she hadn't minded at all.
His death had been sad, but she hadn't grieved like a woman in love should.
"I'm sorry." Carter looked as though he really meant it.
She shrugged. "I am, too. He was too young to die like he did."
Carter didn't look much better than he had a minute before. "Are you still grieving for him?"
"No."
Her marriage had been a mistake, but she would have tried to make it work, tried to get Jack help.
She hadn't gotten the chance. End of story.
Carter's smile was back in full force, and she about staggered under the impact.
"So, you're totally free to marry me."
The room grew black around the edges, and she stumbled backward until she fell into a chair beside the door to her office. "What?"
"I'm being pretty abrupt about this, aren't I?" Carter tugged at his tie until it was loose enough to pull off over his head. Then he unbuttoned the top two buttons on his dress shirt, and she wanted to ask him to undo more.
She stomped on the urge and simply nodded in answer to his question. She'd say abrupt about covered it.
He sighed and ran his long fingers through his hair again. "I'm sorry."
"That's okay." Her voice was faint, but at least it worked.
Which was a miracle when she considered all she'd been through in the last half hour.
Carter adjusted himself just like some jock teenager and then grimaced. "Look, honey, we need to talk, but I've got to take a shower. I'm a mess."
He indicated the front of his suit pants that couldn't hide the wet spot, despite their dark color.
She blushed and hastily looked away.
He laughed. "You're a case, you know that?"