He flashed her a smile. “Thanks. I guess.”
Change the subject, a little voice inside her warned. This was the perfect time to talk about the cellulite he was never going to see. “Did she lie? I mean, about the open relationship part? I’ve heard that was the rumor.”
He rubbed his eyes and yawned. “It wasn’t a lie.”
“Why? Why would anyone agree to something like that?”
“People who don’t understand make it out to be this big deal. I dated her for a year. She didn’t want to be with just one person for the rest of her life, neither did I. We didn’t have orgies, Elena. But if I wanted to pursue someone else, she didn’t care. And neither did I when the situation was reversed.”
“Why keep the relationship then?”
He shrugged. “We had things in common. Enjoyed each other’s company.”
“Sorry. I guess the thought of sharing someone is so foreign to me. I respect your lifestyle, but I just don’t understand. When I meet someone, I’ll want him all just for myself. I want the good, the bad, and the ugly.”
He chuckled. “I can scratch the ugly. I’ve lived it.”
“It’s different when you love that person,” she said, and gave herself a mental slap. How patronizing could she sound? What if he had loved Regina? Then again, would he have just said they enjoyed each other’s company? That seemed so…casual.
He dipped his head and pulled her to him, locking his lips onto hers with an eagerness that surprised her to the bone. Say what? She lifted her hands to his chest, her fingers trembling at the touch. Should she pull him closer or push him away? Her thoughts swayed back and forth like a ballroom dance.
He intensified the kiss, and she opened her mouth wider, her body making that decision for her. The little hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and when he licked her earlobe, she gasped. Unlike the other kisses, this one came completely out of the blue, like both of them had no say in it.
Before she realized, he was easing her onto his desk. She barely registered the sound of files, the tablet, pens, and other small objects shoved to the side, some of them falling to the floor. Breaking the kiss, he gazed at her.
Fear was like the dimming light of a faraway lighthouse. Maybe it wasn’t as bright as sunshine or as strong as the gusty wind, but damn it, it was there. What would happen? The last time she had been forced to have intercourse, well, she ended up in the ER with internal stitches.
But these were much different circumstances, of course. And they were happening with a much different man.
“I’m not going to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” he said, his voice soothing like a kiss. “Do you believe me?”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. Did she? On a sexual level… “Yes.”
“Whenever you want me to stop, just say so.”
“Okay.”
He nudged her legs apart with his hand. Her thighs trembled, and she sighed. Relaxing was hard, but did she even want to? No. The searing sensation teasing her nerve endings was too good to let go. He peeled off her underwear, and she bucked toward him, helping him.
Was he going to screw her on the top of his desk? All the employees had gone home, and there wasn’t anyone but the two of them on the twelfth floor. Maybe it was better this way—to get it over with.
He dipped his head between her legs, and she clenched her inner muscles. Tensing up, she slanted him a look.
“Relax, Elena,” he suggested.
She closed her eyes, and decided to give it a try. Thankfully, she had waxed her bikini line just in case he’d agreed to her seduction request the day before.
He kissed her inner thigh, and she moaned. His lips were soft and full, yet there was a commanding quality about them. Her skin prickled under his touch.
The sweep of his tongue over her thigh sent a rumbling through her body. She squirmed, and he caressed the back of her knee with his hands, the kneading bringing more turmoil than relief. Oh. My. God.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asked between her legs.
“No,” she choked out.
“Tell me when to stop.”
She inhaled, then hissed out some air. “Okay.”
Using his index finger, he outlined her swollen lips, caressing her lightly. She quivered, and it was like someone had set her stomach on fire. Who was she kidding? Her entire body was a delightful, incendiary mess. With a groan, he slipped his finger into her. Rubbing. Teasing. Circling.
Arching toward him, she gathered her courage and gazed at him. A wicked smile curled his lips, and he looked at her with the intensity of a train in full motion. She didn’t shy away from the stare, and something inside her softened. Warmed.
“You’re stunning,” he said.
So are you. The soft office light cast a glow over his gorgeous and smooth ebony skin. She wished his designer suit and jacket were on the floor. To have him naked and fully appreciate his body. The possibility caused a primeval rush of adrenaline, starting at the top of her head and surging all the way down her curling toes.
She stayed with him, focusing on him until he leaned down and his head disappeared between her legs. The moment he started to kiss her, oh, she knew it—that heaven wasn’t just a six-letter word. Her eyelids dropped, and she moved her head from side to side. Unrest brewed and grew from her very core.
Her clit turned into a bundle of nerves, and it didn’t help her that he started flicking it with his thumb. Hhmmm… She squirmed, her legs fidgety, her body darting signs at her that she wouldn’t—couldn’t—last long.
Suddenly, he intensified the rhythm, and his tongue thrust into her, swirling into her wetness. Moans she could no longer suppress flew from her mouth, free and wild like birds let loose from cages.
The ceiling moved, or was it just her blurry vision? Sweat beaded her skin, and crazy tremors surged through her, as she undulated. For a moment, she died—her body subsided, and a blissful peace filled her.
“Wow.” She wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.
Devon smiled at her, and watched her with a lot less intensity than before. She shifted to a sitting position, feet dangling. What was happening now? Her pulse spiked. Were they going to have sex in his office? She didn’t have condoms or anything, besides—
“Here.” He handed her the undies.
She chewed on her bottom lip. “Thanks. What’s next?”
“You should go home and get some sleep.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t have any condoms with me,” he said. “Besides, I think you should ease into it.”
“Ease into it? Like surfing lessons?”
“You’re not ready to go all the way yet. You told me to stop just now. With your eyes. You were worried.”
How could she argue against him? He was probably right, even though she felt ready. “Since sex is your expertise and not mine, I have to agree. We’re going to though, sometime, right? All the way.”
A smile curled his lips. “That’s the plan.”
She shoved her panties inside her bag, and adjusted her skirt. Didn’t need to touch her hair to know it was messy, but she did it anyway. “What made you change your mind?”
“You.” He stared deep into her eyes. “You changed my mind.”
Chapter Seven
“Where were you? You’re fifteen minutes late,” Elena asked, following Devon inside his office. “Imani is not amused.”
He dropped his messenger bag to the side, and flicked on his computer screen. He was about to sit, then peered at Elena. She held the iPad against her chest. Right. The meeting.
Imani had emailed him and Matthew to request a meeting in the morning, and he supposed he was late for that.
“Bad traffic,” he said, unable to open his mouth and tell the woman he almost screwed the previous night that he had stared at the fucking elevator for too long. And once again, had exited the suffocating box before the doors closed and forced him to ride it to
his floor.
Just like the time he’d spent with her. Close. But not quite all the way.
His libido stirred, and he quietly cursed his hard-on. Elena wore a white dress, ruffled at the top, and one of those short black jackets almost to ensure her business casual vibe. Words flew out of her mouth, but he tuned them out as the moans he had heard the night before still rang in his ears. Erotic and soft.
“Do you think they have news about, you know?” She cocked her head to one side, and he realized she had to be talking about the company theft.
“Maybe. Be right back.”
She gave him an unsure smile. “Okay.”
He started to stride away, then a strange force compelled him to look over his shoulder, only to find her watching him. Clumsily, she looked away, and he headed to the conference room with a stupid ass smile on his damn face.
Kissing her hadn’t been a wise decision. How could he have resisted her though? Her candid if surrealist vision of love and commitment had ignited something within him that was powerful and warm. An unstoppable need to kiss her. Taste her—and that he didn’t regret one bit.
He closed the door behind him, and turned to find Imani and Matthew already seated. His stepmother continued reading some reports, and lowered her glasses when he sat across from them to give him an inquiring look.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said, expecting Matthew’s retort. Yet, his half-brother shook his head, leaned back in his chair, and sighed like he’d been worried about something else altogether.
“It’s okay. I know the email was last minute.” Imani passed a manila folder to Devon. “Toby said whoever is stealing hasn’t stopped. The discrepancies continue. They are just creating other fake accounts.”
“They are either very dumb, or have no idea we’re onto them,” Matthew added his two cents.
“I don’t think this is an inside job. It’s made to look like it’s from someone who works here, but while we waste time going through employees’ files for evidence, the real criminal is laughing,” Devon said.
“Interesting,” Imani said. “Say Devon, you have any news from your father?”
“No.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Be honest.”
“He never contacted me after he fled. Why?” Devon asked. “Is there a way he could be doing this from thousands of miles away?”
“He’s already stolen from the company.” Imani lifted her hand to her forehead, and started to massage her temple with her thumb. “He knew the system. Maybe if he planted someone here, it wouldn’t be a stretch to do it again,” Imani continued.
The image of Elena flashed in his mind. No. No, no, no. No way could she be the plant. She had told him what she was up to—even though she was economical on details. On the other hand, what if she was pretending to help him to draw his attention away from her and remain one step ahead?
Damn it. It was time he was one step ahead.
“Finding Caleb will be impossible. If he sets foot back in the US, he’ll be arrested,” Matthew said.
“People tend to slip up. I’ll have the surveillance team check incoming foreign numbers and emails,” Devon said.
“Good.” Imani smiled at him. “Just in case, I’ll tell Toby about your concerns and see if we can do something about it. Most importantly though—not a single word can leak to the media. There’s a chance that in a few months when I step down, the company will be vulnerable. I don’t want to devalue our stocks.”
Tension crackled in the room. Devon touched his collar, and was about to loosen it, when reality pinched him. Don’t show defeat. You still have a shot at this.
“Fine by me,” Matthew said.
Devon shrugged. “Same here.” The last thing he wanted was unwanted attention. He’d had enough of that after his break-up with Regina.
***
“How was it?” Elena asked when he returned to the office.
“Good,” he said, and closed the door behind her even though the intrusive glass walls kept him from showing any suspicious emotion. Maybe the desire for her was clouding his judgment. Having his fill of her until he got over that inconvenient attraction would help him see things clearer.
She fiddled with a long elegant necklace, the gold color sparkling against her subdued white dress. “Any new info?”
He flicked his screen and checked his email account. He had called the surveillance guy again, to demand an email with the footage of Toby’s birthday party.
“Nah. Just the same BS. Toby is looking into it. Have you heard from Matthew?”
She sat across from him, and he wished his eyes didn’t follow the way her legs crossed. The well-cut, starkly elegant outfit she had on was a wild contrast to the mischievous glint flashing in her eyes. “He texted me earlier to ask about your mystery woman.”
“What did you say?”
She worried her bottom lip. “That you’re having dinner with her tonight.”
He checked his email. His pulse quickened. Phil had come through. “You did not.”
“I did not. But are you?”
“Why would I?”
She cleared her throat. “Well, last night you said we weren’t done. That I had changed your mind.”
“I did. But things can’t escalate that quickly. Not after what you’ve been through with your ex,” he said, like he was some kind of sex expert. He opened Phil’s email and noted the video attachment. One step closer to figuring out the crook’s identity.
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
“You are not ready,” he said, his finger circling the mouse instead of clicking it straight away. Shifting in his seat, he watched her.
A few loose strands escaped her low ponytail, and she had on a tad more makeup than usual. A maroon shade enhanced her sexy bedroom eyes. His body reverberated. Damn it. He was ready—too ready.
“How can you know? It’s not your vagina.” She raised her hand in disagreement, and also to probably tell him to shut up. “Besides, I did therapy for three years. I have no more nightmares. I feel good about myself. I’m ready for the new chapter of my life, and this is the last obstacle I need to overcome to get there.”
“I don’t wanna hurt you.”
“You can never hurt me. We’re not an item in the romantic sense.”
He popped his knuckles. “I mean physically.”
“You mean your gigantic penis will send me to the ER? Isn’t that a tad exaggerated?”
“I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not used to sex the way you want it. Tender. Slow.” And damn if he was scared too. Not that he was about to broadcast it, and give her more leverage over him than what she already had. He liked to fuck hard, fast, and honest. Sex was two sweaty bodies smacking against each other with one simple goal: release.
The woman in front of him offered a lot more. She was opening the door to a world he had avoided for too long. Regina had been safe—even though she ended up screwing him over. During their time together, he never had to worry about stepping out of his comfort zone. He was too damn old and too damn cynical to change his views on relationships or sex. Especially because of corporate spy Elena Moretti. She had been broken, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t turn on him.
Besides, he knew that about broken people—they could survive. And that made them invincible. The question was…did she know that too?
“Then we’ll have to learn together.”
“I’ll be at your place around eight.”
She smiled, and a part of him couldn’t help but smile back.
Chapter Eight
“Hey.” Elena opened the door, and it was like her biological clock reversed a good fifteen years. How could her heart not gallop at the sight of him, leaning against the threshold and holding a large bouquet of pink tulips? A V-neck shirt hugged his large frame without being too tight, and dark denim outlined those gorgeous legs she had yet to see. Wow.
He glanced at his watch. Not the reaction she expected. “Are you ready?”
“I…cooked,” she said, and gestured toward the table she had laid in record time. Martha Stewart herself would have been proud. She had produced a flowery linen table cloth, and the Pottery Barn silverware, plus the fancy cloth napkins and not two, but three types of glasses. An array of sweet pea scented candles, big and small, sat in the middle of the table.
He frowned. “Oh.”
“Is that okay? I figured, it would probably be best if no one saw us in public anyway. To keep it low profile.” After your scandal. Your sex scandal.
“Sure.”
He entered her townhouse and studied it. The contrast of his manly looks against the soft pink on the walls and the pastel-colored sofas and accent pieces could be laughable, if she weren’t so freaking nervous. She touched her stomach, wishing all the emotions swimming inside would come to a stop.
“Wine?” She smoothed her hand over her apron.
“Whatever you’re having.”
She dashed into the kitchen, and grabbed a red wine she hoped would impress him. After all, she had Googled and gone shopping at the European shop a few blocks from her place. With trembling fingers, she opened the drawer, searching for the corkscrew.
If only she had kept that modern wine opening thingy they’d received as a wedding gift after her divorce. Shit. She grabbed a glass and splashed some water from the tap, then drank it like she had gone hiking in the woods and her throat was parched. Damn.
Breathe in. Breathe out. She tried to follow the mantra, but the nausea only worsened. With cold hands, she left the wine on the counter and removed her apron. The scents of the spices she had used were like a stubborn yet pleasant fragrance in the kitchen, and she glanced at the lasagna cooling on the stove.
At least she had that going for her. Her family recipe. Unless, of course, Devon hated pasta. “Do you like Italian?” she yelled.
“Wouldn’t be here otherwise,” he answered, his voice far too close.
She turned around, and found him closing the gap between them. “Can you open the wine?”
“Sure.” He took the bottle from the counter. “Why are you nervous?”
Accidentally Seduced (The Naked Truth Series Book 3) Page 7