by Amelia Wilde
I take her hand and a jolt of hot lust spikes all the way up my arm, across my shoulders, and down my spine, followed quickly by the most intense need for another human being I’ve ever felt in my life. It’s not limited to lust, or sex. I need to know her. Everything about her. As quickly as possible.
“Christian Pierce,” I say with my signature cocky smile, shaking her hand.
I resolve right then to act like an adult. Despite our obvious and overwhelming attraction to one another, I’m not going to act on it. I’m going to keep this professional. She is a public relations expert who my father has retained on behalf of Pierce Industries. I’m one of Pierce Industries’ greatest assets. This is going to be no fucking problem.
Only I don’t want to let go of her hand.
That could be a problem.
It’s petite and soft in mine, and even though the handshake is well over, her hand rests in mine, holding on gently as if to feel my skin.
My charming instincts take over, and I turn her hand in mine so that the back of it is facing up, and then I bring it to my lips, a half smile on my face. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I say, kissing the back of her hand like some French fucking troubadour.
No. Not the most professional thing to do, but it’s right in line with Christian Pierce’s usual playbook.
She blushes a deep red, then pulls her hand back as if I’ve given her an electric shock. “I’ve been giving some thought to a few strategies we could…” When she begins speaking, her voice is strong and clear, but I can’t look away from her, and I know she feels the same magnetic pull towards me because her eyes don’t leave mine. They can’t leave mine. Instead, they bore deeper into my soul, searching, searching.
The breath catches in my throat. I’m trying so hard, so fucking hard, not to step closer to her, to take her face in my hands, to put my mouth on hers…
She bites her lip. She actually bites her bottom lip. Her lipstick is the perfect shade for her skin, and her teeth stand out white against it. She bites her lip and she takes a smooth breath that hitches just at the end of the inhale, and I can’t take it anymore.
I step backward and turn, then reach out and tug at the door so it releases from its magnetic doorstop. With exaggerated patience, I lay my hands flat against the surface and press it closed until finally I hear the latch catch in the lock.
It takes me one second to scan around the door. The windows that surround it are indoor glass, completely opaque.
Then I spin on my heel and I go to her. I close the distance between us in three steps and I’m on her, so close to her that the fabric of my jacket brushes against hers, and I do what I’ve wanted to do since I saw her in the rain last week: I put my hands on either side of her jawline and pull her toward me, covering her mouth with mine, kissing her so hard and hot and deep that the rest of the world disappears entirely.
Quinn meets every movement I make with her own, her tongue dueling with mine. Her hands go to my wrists and she pulls down like she wants to pull both of us to the floor right here, right now, but instead she compromises and lifts up onto her toes so she can get more from this kiss, more of me.
A soft moan escapes her lips and I swallow it, moving one hand down and back so that I’m cupping her head, drawing her in, never fucking wanting this kiss to end, never wanting her to be any farther from me than she is right now.
In fact, I want her to be closer.
So much closer.
She’s like no other woman on earth. She doesn’t get smaller, more passive in my arms; she presses against me, she has her way with me, she’s a force to be reckoned with.
I have to get her in bed. I want to bend her over, give her a little taste of the power I could have over her, and then set her free again. The city might never recover from the fucking fireworks.
The kiss gets hotter, sloppier, her hands are gripping my wrists tighter. I’m going to lose control. I’m going to lose control and bend this woman over the desk and fuck her until—
The landline on her desk rings, the trill of it startling Quinn so that she jumps backward, her face flushed, her lips parted and puffy from the intensity of the kiss, and in two steps she’s at her desk, fumbling with the phone.
“Quinn Campbell,” she says into the receiver, and then she gives me a sexy little smile. “Thank you. You can send it up now.” She hangs up the phone carefully. “That was my assistant—lunch has arrived.”
As discreetly as I can, I adjust my rock-hard cock through my pants and step over to her desk, sitting down in one of the brand new seats. Something is beginning to dawn on me through the steam filling my brain from how fucking hot that kiss was. All of this furniture is brand new. The chairs look like they’ve never been touched. The suitcase in the rain…it all falls into place.
I’d bet anything this is Quinn Campbell’s first day.
And we just made things a hell of a lot more complicated.
I look up at her, at the pink blush flushing her cheeks, at the light sparkling in her eyes, and realize that despite her professional tone, she’s struggling not to start kissing me a second time.
“Well,” I say, smiling at her like the cocky bastard I am. “Looks like we’ll be spending some time together.”
Quinn doesn’t speak. She just smiles.
Chapter Thirteen
Quinn
I’m sitting across the desk from him, trying to eat the sandwich and salad that’s been sent up to us as naturally as possible. I’m doing my best to act like nothing happened between us and as if there isn’t this undeniably intense heat sizzling between us. I feel sunburned even with the office lights turned low. It takes every ounce of self-forced willpower not to let my hand visibly tremble as I lift each forkful of salad to my mouth.
Holy. Shit.
That was the hottest kiss I ever experienced, bar none. A tiny voice in the back of my mind whispers that it’s not appropriate, that I should never have kissed a client, that the timing is terrible, not to mention a million other reasons why I should stand up right now, march right over to Walker’s office, and tell him I’m not right for this position. Good God, my job—my job!—is on the line, and if anyone was to find out, if anyone was to see…
As loudly as my conscience is chastising me for the error of my ways, my entire body is screaming with passionate need. I need more of his touch. I need more of his lips. The space between my legs is steamy hot and soaking wet, almost begging me to strip off my clothes and have my way with him right here and now. There’s a sleek, modern sofa positioned near one of the windows that looks just perfect to accommodate a scorching hot, quick fuck.
Jesus. The strength in his arms, the pressure of his hands—it tells me how powerful he could be if he chose to be, how dominating he could be over my smaller form, and that thought turns me on more than anything else. He seemed to like my feistiness and that I wasn’t going to automatically submit to him, but there’s one thing I can’t deny to myself—he’s more than a match for me. He’s not some shrinking pushover who would do shit like cheat on me with my best friend.
You don’t know that, my inner voice interjects.
Fine. I don’t know that. But what I do know is that our bodies collided with equal force. If I had let it go on long enough, one of us would have come out on top. I want it to be him. I want him to show me how much stronger he is than I am, and I’m no shrinking violet.
I swallow another bite of salad and it gets caught in my throat. I have to wash it down with a sip of ice-cold lemon water. The thick, heavy glass feels good in my hand, something to ground me even while my unbelievable desire makes it difficult to focus.
Still, I’m a professional, at the top of my game, and so I continue our conversation.
“Yes, we’ll be looking into different photo opportunities.” I’d like a photo opportunity with him in bed, naked, his body bare on the sheets so I could look at it as long as I pleased. “Do you have any philanthropic causes that you’d like to focus on
over the next several weeks?”
Christian leans forward in his chair and finishes the last of his sandwich, not letting a single crumb fall to the carpet. His eyes stay locked on my face as he takes a sip of water, then raises one of HRM’s cloth napkins to his lips. His perfect, soft lips that minutes ago were slipping and sliding against mine like he was claiming me as his personal property.
I can’t say I minded.
“Yes,” he says finally, his half-smile caressing his words with an undertone of pure sex. “Pierce Industries is dedicated to reaching out to the homeless, and we also have fostered partnerships with several hospitals across the city to provide support for research and enhanced patient care.”
Every breath I take burns in my lungs. Being near him is like flirting with the surface of the sun.
“Wonderful. I can set up some appearances this week and next that will get the ball rolling on positive press coverage.” I flip to a fresh page in the notepad I’ve been scribbling in while we ate. “As far as press releases go, is there any kind of dedication you’d like to make?”
“Dedication?” He leans back in his chair and I can see the outline of his cock through his pants. He’s still hard.
“I’ve found that, for some of my clients, shifts in reputation seem more authentic if we can hint at some personal reason to take advantage of the opportunities. Maybe someone in your family who has inspired you? I’ve also had clients mention people they’d like to memorialize.”
Christian takes in a deep, haggard breath and quickly looks away, his eyes dropping to focus at a crack in the floor. Fuck. I’ve hit a nerve. But just as quickly as they fell, his eyes are back locked on mine, and I feel the charged connection between us again, strong as ever.
“There are a couple of people I would—” He starts speaking in a soft tone, but then trails off. “My mother spent a lot of time on charity work before she died.”
Oh, Christ. That tidbit was probably in the portfolio. I can’t imagine losing my mother, even though she and my father have gone a little buck wild in their retirement years and rarely stay in the same place for more than a few weeks at a time. At least I know I can always call her. “I’m so sorry,” I say softly.
“It’s all right,” he says, with that rakish smile that I know I’ll never be able to get out of my head. “It’s been a few years. My father won’t have any problem with mentioning her in a press release.”
The heaviness of the moment settles on my shoulders, and I feel like a complete idiot. I look over my notes. We’ve covered more than enough ground for this meeting. Honestly, if he stays in here any longer, I might tear off all of my clothes and throw myself at him.
And that would be a disaster for us both.
I stand up from my seat and Christian follows suit. “Thank you for coming in to meet with me, Christian,” I say, offering him my hand. “I’ll see you on Wednesday for our next appointment.”
He takes it, and a shock of desire explodes in my chest.
One tug and two steps, and he’s got me around the side of the desk, inches away from him, and he leans down to whisper into my ear. The words he says make me even wetter and my heart beat harder.
“You’ll see me before then. Did you think I’d ignore that kiss?”
Then he’s gone, leaving me breathless and shaking in my office, my body begging for him to come back.
Chapter Fourteen
Christian
In the elevator on the way down to the lobby of HRM’s building, I put my fingers to my lips. I can still feel the imprint of Quinn’s kisses there, still feel the sensitive spots where she took my lip between her teeth and bit down just hard enough to drive me insanely wild.
I sensed it the moment I saw her, but that kiss—that epic fucking collision of a kiss—has confirmed it for me. She’s like no one I’ve ever met.
Then watching her sit through the rest of that meeting, so cool, so collected…
At least on the outside.
I saw how her breath caught in her throat. I saw the flushed color in her cheeks, the way she darted her tongue out to lick her bottom lip.
She wanted more of me.
Just as badly as I wanted more of her.
If it were anyone else, I might have taken the risk.
I might have bent her over on all fours on that little sofa in her office and fucked her until she clenched and spasmed in an orgasm around my cock, her coral dress shoved up around her waist to allow me access.
If it was anyone else, I wouldn’t care quite so much about screwing up her job for her. I wouldn’t care so much about adding yet another notch to my playboy belt. Christian Pierce can’t help himself. He takes what he wants, and then he discards the leftovers. That’s the game.
But not with her.
No, with her it’s different. This is so much more powerful that I feel swept away, and I’m the one who initiated the kiss.
It’s different—yet I’m fucking fooling myself. I did take a risk like that. It might be an even bigger gamble than taking her from behind in her brand new office.
Shit. What the hell was I thinking when I told her I’d see her again before Wednesday?
There—right there. That was the biggest risk of all.
I’ve set myself up.
In so many goddamn ways.
I want to see her. I need to see her. I need it more than I’ve ever needed anything in my entire life, and it’s more than just the insane attraction to her gorgeous body. Knowing more about her is an itch I have to scratch, and secondhand information won’t be enough. It would also be fucking weird to ask Carolyn the kinds of questions I want to ask Quinn.
There’s the added complication that she’s been assigned to handle my PR. As far as I can see, there’s not really a good way to get around that. My father hand-selected the firm. I don’t know his reasons, and I don’t really need to, but switching firms isn’t an option. I doubt he’d accept my reasoning, which is essentially that I need to date the woman who’s handling Pierce Industries—me—as a client.
Another twist: I can’t appear to be hung up on her. I can’t appear to always have her on my mind. I can’t appear to be losing sleep because I can’t get thoughts of her smile, her voice, her curves out of my mind. That kiss. That kiss. My cock twitches just thinking about the heat of her mouth on mine, and how if we’d been the only two people in the building, I would have dragged my mouth down the side of her neck, torn off her blazer and that little coral dress underneath, spread her legs, and…
And lost myself entirely.
That’s what I can’t do.
That’s what I can’t do under any circumstances, even for a woman like Quinn Campbell. Even though the world shifted underneath my feet when we kissed. Even though she responded to me like she was born to kiss me, born to touch me, born to fuck me.
I can’t treat her any differently than all the other women. Three dates maximum.
I laugh out loud. Three dates? How am I supposed to take Quinn on three dates when she works for me? That’ll be a red flag. If we’re going to see each other at all, it’s going to have to be in secret.
She must know that. She must know that kissing and fucking a client is a surefire way to lose her job.
Of course she knows. She’s fucking excellent at what she does. That’s why they assigned her to me, New York City’s most notorious playboy.
Yet she didn’t say no. She didn’t draw back. She didn’t fight it.
She pressed into me. She wanted more.
There’s a thought in the back of my mind that’s like the third rail. I don’t want to touch it, but as I exit HRM’s building and climb into the back of the Town Car, it becomes impossible to avoid.
The secret.
My secret.
That’s the real, true risk in all of this. There would be a way to find another PR firm, another, lesser version of Quinn Campbell to arrange media appearances and smooth out my reputation so that Pierce Industries doesn’t have t
o be ashamed of me.
But they would be—everyone would be—if they knew the truth.
Deep down, I know that if I let Quinn get too close, if I let her break all my rules, break down all my walls, she’ll eventually come to know everything about me.
Everything.
Once she knows everything there is to know about Christian Pierce, she’ll leave, and she’ll never look back.
“Back to the office?” Louis says from the front of the Town Car.
“That’s right,” I tell him. As he pulls the car away from the curb, I close my eyes and let myself go back to that kiss. To the taste of her that still lingers on my lips.
Fuck.
I know this is not going to end well. I know it in my bones.
But I can’t turn away from this inferno of passion.
Instead, I resolve to get burned.
Chapter Fifteen
Quinn
Monday night is sheer agony. I follow my regular routine—I go home to the apartment like nothing is wrong, change out of my coral dress and blazer and pull on the same stretchy yoga pants and tank top that I traveled here in, and then plant myself on Carolyn’s couch.
I’m still reeling from the aftershocks of Christian’s kiss—it feels like bolts of lightning crackling electrical charges through my hands, my feet, my legs. Every so often I catch myself raising my fingertips to my slightly swollen lips. It felt so good to be pressed up against him, to let those carnal urges flash boldly and run wild through my body…
I’m about to flee back into my bedroom to relieve some of the almost unbearable sexual pressure on my own when Carolyn breezes through the front door. She hangs up her purse on one of the hooks in the entryway with a flourish. “Hey, Q!” she says, and I sit up straight.
“Good day at work?” I ask.
“Great day.” She waltzes into the living room with a spring in her step and surveys my outfit. She raises her eyebrows in question. “I see you’re in for the evening. I take it your day wasn’t great?”