Accidentally Seduced (The Naked Truth Series Book 3)

by Carmen Falcone

  “I’m fine with it,” she said, but didn’t bother to inject much energy into her words. Emilio and Timothy had been good friends since forever. Why would she put herself in the way? Besides, with her mother’s high blood pressure issues, the last thing she wanted was to add stress.

  “Good. I guess your silly brother was always fond of Timothy, and deep in his heart always hoped you two would patch things up.”

  “That’s impossible,” she rushed to say, then cleared her throat. “Besides, I’m bringing a date for the wedding. Someone I met here in Denver.”

  “Really? Honey I’m surprised. I had no idea.”

  She glanced at Devon’s office. Neither did I. But bringing Devon to the party would put an end on any hopes that she and Timothy still had a shot. Without having to explain why. Elena had worked to heal her emotional wounds for years during her therapy; why relive all the painful memories? And why expose a part of Timothy that he himself hadn’t been able to control?

  “Who is he?” her mother asked. “Tell me everything.”

  “I’ll tell you about him later. We’re just getting to know each other, Mom, so don’t start hearing wedding bells or anything.” Besides, did she really need her brothers to dig into Devon’s past? Usually they made every guy she dated uncomfortable, but she had a nagging feeling it would be worse now. Although, if there was a guy who could face her brothers down, it was Devon. Just the kind of man she needed.

  “How about just a full name for now?”

  No way. Otherwise, her mom would Google the name, and discover that Devon Wilder was a bona fide bad boy, the opposite of her traditional family? Nope. “I’ll pass.”

  “You’re no fun.”

  I should have that sentence embroidered on a pillow. “Thanks.”

  She returned her attention to her sleek computer screen, and to the fake accounts that were highlighted. She had studied them, tried to find a pattern with numbers, but nothing. Where did all the money go? And why couldn’t they just trace the most likely offshore bank accounts?

  By the time Devon walked in, she had jotted down a couple questions on her notepad. A crisp black shirt hugged his form to perfection, under a dark grey jacket. She let her eyes trail down his pants. Out of all the male execs in the office, Devon was certainly the fiercest dresser.

  Her sex tingled, and it was like her body switched to a different mode when he was around. “Devon, we need to talk.”

  “Sure.”

  He flashed her a noncommittal smile and gestured for her to follow him into his office. God. What if he regretted having slept with her? Already.

  She watched him slid off his messenger bag, and threw it on the chair next to her. Plopping down, she bit her lip. The salmon-colored dress she had picked out to wear had been a stupid idea. It was far too light, too colorful, too happy. It screamed “My vagina has been revived,” and she doubted that’s what any man like Devon would want the day after. This kind of eagerness early on broadcasted white picket fence. Or rather, black wrought iron.

  “I have been taking a look at the accounts. Did the accountant say why they weren’t able to trace the receiving offshore accounts?”

  “Apparently whoever did this is going beyond Swiss banks. They are using special codes, and even though I suggested they get the cyber crime agents on board, Imani wants to solve it privately. If this leaks to the press, it won’t look good for the company.”

  Of course. Wilder & Co stocks were doing awesome on the market. There was a chance they would drop when Imani stepped down and announced the new CEO. Why jeopardize the company even further?

  She scratched her head. “Do you think…Toby the accountant might be involved?”

  “Cooking the books? Why would he bring this to Imani’s attention?”

  “I don’t know. But that makes him the perfect thief. He’s above any suspicion, and he can work the numbers to his advantage,” she voiced one of the nagging doubts jumbling in her head.

  Devon grabbed the football-shaped paperweight from his desk and toyed with it. “I’ll look into that.”

  She smiled. “Good.”

  He leaned back in his chair, and a sexy gleam flicked in his eyes. “That’s a nice dress.”

  “Thanks. Come to think of it though, it looks like the color of a vagina,” she said, the words escaping her before she had any control over them. Because I’m an idiot. “Crap. Sometimes I have no filter.”

  His joyful, powerful chuckle filled the room. “You nervous?”

  She shifted on her seat. “A little.”

  A predatory smile formed on his lips, and she just knew he wasn’t going to say anything to make her less nervous. For a while, she doubted that was even possible. Her panties were drenched with the essence of her desire, and she clenched her legs together, trying to trap her scent of arousal.

  What was going on in his head? The previous night he had acted like a gentleman. Now, his gaze traveled from her face down her neckline and breasts, and it left behind a path of seared flesh. Branded.

  “Hey, if the offer still stands,” Elena said while she burned under his stare, “you can come with me to New York.” Now, more than ever, she needed Devon to be her date at her brother’s engagement party.

  He shifted the paperweight from one hand to the other, his eyes unreadable. Oh crap. Maybe he’d changed his mind? There was always the possibility he had said that after screwing, in the heat of the moment.

  “Unless, of course, you changed your mind,” she rushed to say. “Then, that’s totally okay. I completely understand.” She waved her disappointment off. “It was a bad idea to begin with. Really. It totally was.”

  A grin teased his full lips. “I’m going with you.”

  Little thrills of excitement surged through her, and she tried hard to keep her feet on the ground. “Great. We’re leaving in a couple days.”

  “I’m going to call Imani and see if I can get more info on who is running the show. She has been tight lipped about the team that’s trying to unveil the thieves. But now that you mentioned the accountant, maybe there’s something to it too.”

  “Sounds like a good idea.”

  He picked an elegant pen from the pen holder and twirled it round his fingers. “And word on the street is Matthew is getting divorced.”

  She straightened her shoulders. “How do you know?”

  He rocked back in his chair. Even though he looked relaxed, stretching himself, there was a strange intensity in his midnight eyes. Why did she feel like she was the target? “He ordered his assistant to forward his mail to a new address and she talked to the security guy, who was glad to report it all to me this morning. My question is…how do you know? I doubt he has even said anything to Imani about it.”

  “He told me.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Why? And why did you keep it from me?”

  “Because it’s personal and I don’t think it has anything to do with us. Not that there is an official us. You know what I mean. Our deal.”

  “I don’t understand why he’d trust you with that kind of private information,” he said.

  She stood, restless. Leaving the iPad on his desk, she started to pop her knuckles. “I’m his friend. We talk about stuff.” She opted not to tell Devon about Matthew’s hidden agenda in hiring her so Devon would try and seduce her and get in trouble. The last thing those two needed was more bad blood running between them. Besides, she had been adamant with Matthew. If he used her to nab that CEO spot, she would make sure people knew about his plan.

  “Friends. I guess I gotta get myself some of those,” he said, his voice smooth. His lips curled at the corner of his mouth, and she wondered if he believed her or was only pretending to. “By the way, after work today, I have to go straight to my club. Some business to take care of.”

  “I totally understand.” Totally.

  “You can stop by if you’d like. For a friendly visit,” he said, drawling at the last sentence.

  “Thanks. Clubb
ing isn’t really my scene, but I will keep that in mind.” God, not really her scene? How old was she? Ninety?

  He winked at her. “You do that.”

  ***

  Showing up at Smolder, after work, without texting Devon, was a bad idea. She cemented her insecurity the minute a couple of tall women with fiery red hair strode into the club the same time as she. Everyone seemed to be way cool and too hip. She touched her fifties-style black dress—tight on top, with a flowing skirt down to her knees, and reached for her chunky pearl necklace. I look like a vintage Stepford wife.

  Ugh. Why had she changed her mind? Going far from her comfort zone was one thing. Visiting his second place of work carved a pitiful hole between them. She leaned across from the bartender, and waved at the bald chick with purple lipstick and dark clothes. “Red wine, please.”

  The bartender nodded, and turned around to get the bottle. Some alcohol had to loosen her violin string-tight nerves. Right? She lifted her hands and fiddled with the pearls, and wondered if taking them off wouldn’t be a better choice. Ah. Might as well own it.

  Her gaze zapped from the bar area to the dance floor. It was strangely intimate. The nightclub had a theater-like feel, with special VIP boxes that overlooked the dance floor like old-fashioned terraces, and several antique chandeliers dropping from the ceiling. Gorgeous GoGo girls dangling on trapezes and the ultramodern music—a tattooed DJ worked the tunes in a higher box—gave the place an edge.

  A lot of the women could be models, and probably were, with their slinky bodies and sophisticated get-ups.

  “Here,” the bartender said, and she turned to grab the drink.

  She sipped the wine a tad too quickly. Was it too late to go home? No. Besides, her pragmatic side warned, she was checking out the club. Matthew had hinted Devon could be stealing from the company because of the other clubs he was about to open, but a glance at her surroundings was all she needed. Why would he need to embezzle money? This club was in full swing, and given the classy décor and overpriced drinks, she doubted Smolder was on its last legs.

  She eyed Devon, before she was prepared. He was talking to a couple of gorgeous brunettes. Her heart raced. She lifted her shoulders, and finished the remains of her drink.

  “Another.” She pointed her head in the direction of the glass to the bartender. “Please.”

  The woman smiled and turned around to get the bottle.

  Damn it. Of course he flirted with other women. The man had an open relationship before her, and what guarantee did she have he wasn’t planning on screwing any of them tonight? She had told him she wouldn’t come. Besides, they didn’t have anything concrete. Anything lasting.

  Do you want to? No. Of course not. If she hadn’t been able to handle a man like Timothy, crazy and sick as he was, how about a man like Devon? He oozed sexiness. And trouble. Especially trouble.

  She gave herself a mental slap on the forehead, and searched for him again. Her pulse spiked. Across from her, a few inches from the entrance to the VIP area, he still talked to the two women, and nodded. She zoomed on his face. No smile. A stupid part of her rejoiced. The women leaned forward, one of them laughing while the other batted her eyelashes. He shook his head and said something, then walked away from them. Well, if body language was anything to go by, he wasn’t interested in a threesome. Phew.

  Stupid. Stupid, stupid. He also wasn’t interested in a long-term commitment. And neither was she—not with him. She longed to find someone for a meaningful relationship, and should be thankful Devon was giving her good sexual memories to cling to for the near future. Sex. Good. Hot. Sex.

  His gaze found hers, and she shifted on her seat. While he erased the distance between them with long, graceful strides, she parted her mouth. All of a sudden, it was like she had a freaking cold. Air restricted in her lungs, she had to clear her throat. Twice.

  “Look who’s here.”

  “I… I was in the neighborhood.”

  He threw his head back, and laughed. “That’s right. You were in the neighborhood,” he said, a silver spark in his eyes mocking her. “And no vagina dress?”

  “A pity, I know.” Her lips broke into a smile, and she lifted her hand to her neckline. She was burning. “I changed my mind. Wanted to see how you can do this. Work all hours.”

  “This is pleasure.”

  She frowned. “How so?”

  “I have a great team, they make it easy for me.”

  “Yes. I noticed that besides the bouncers, they are all women,” she said, and wished she had a freaking filter. She coughed. “Which is nice. Great.”

  He gave out his hand. “Wanna dance?”

  “Oh, I’m not really the best dancer,” she said, and made a face she doubted came anywhere close to sexy. God. What was wrong with her? She had been out of the dating pool for too long. Now…now was the time to freaking change that. Live it up. Go girl.

  “I’m not asking you to be Julliard material. You can move your hips, right?”

  She slid off the stool. “Yes. Sorry. I’d love to dance.”

  “That’s what I like to hear.”

  She’d bet one of her kidneys that was what he was used to hearing. What woman in her sane mind would say no to him? When he brought her close to him, his hand grazing over her side boob, and a tingle surged through her, faster than a shooting star.

  The music was fast, and most of the people in the crowd danced on their own. Some couples stayed close to each other, grinding, as if they were alone.

  “Am I that hard on the eyes?” he asked, pulling her into reality.

  She gave out a stupid nervous chuckle. “Quite the opposite.”

  “Then why do you always look away?”

  “Because sometimes I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop staring at you,” she said, and the truth in her words hit her like a flogger. She lifted her hand to her lips, and wished she could rewind time and take that back. It sounded impossibly romantic, and maybe he thought so too. His jaw clenched. Time to save face. “I mean, staring intently isn’t polite.” She waved it off. “I’m wired that way I guess.”

  Thankfully, his cheeks relaxed, and relief washed over her. “We’ll be doing some rewiring.”

  “Good. Then show me what’s the big deal about this dancing thing everyone keeps bragging about.” She winked at him, and started to move, trying her best to channel her inner vixen. He watched her, and to have his attention focused on her like that sent thrills of excitement through her, starting on her hairline and down her body. He danced too, with a lot more finesse and swagger than she. His movements kept up with the music, and damn it, her underwear was already super soaked.

  She let go, too. Swaying her arms and legs, she loosened her body a bit, feeling that intense rush of adrenaline thrumming in her veins. Why not enjoy it? When he closed the distance between them, she continued to sway her hips, eyes partially closed. He anchored his hands at her waist, helping her move, and she threw her head back, enjoying how her hair fell back, and the buzz from the wine caught up with her.

  He leaned forward, and ran his tongue on her neck. Her nerve endings crackled like fire on wood, and she was glad his hand snaked behind her back otherwise she would have fallen. “Let’s go to my office.”

  He straightened, and she did the same. In a delightful trance, she merely bobbed her head in agreement, and followed him as he led the way. Curved black iron stairs lead to the second floor, where a few other VIP boxes were located. The beat of the music seemed to fade, perhaps because her heartbeat was off the charts.

  Gripping her elbow, he took her to the last door at the end of a hallway. She suppressed a squeal when he closed the door behind him, and pulled her to him.

  “I know what you’ve been through,” he said, his forehead touching hers. “I keep telling myself to be careful with you, Elena.”

  Careful? “I’m not breakable. I know what you’re all about, Devon. Sex.”

  “Yes. Good. But even then—”

&nbs
p; “Don’t hold back.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I want it all,” she said, having a hard time breathing.

  He slammed her against the wall, and she gasped, his large frame towering over her. Without delay, his mouth descended on hers, starting a delicious war of tongues, mouths melding, teeth grazing. She moaned, and for a second didn’t give a crap if anyone could hear them. “You have no idea how much you turn me on, babe. I see you and all I wanna do is fuck you. Again and again.”

  She swallowed. Dirty talk never aroused her before, yet no one ever talked to her in that low deep baritone. And that rich, sexy voice saying sinful things to her made her clit a hot pulsating bundle of nerves. It was like, sexually, there wasn’t a before anymore.

  He swept his hands into her dress, and she felt him fumbling against the structured fabric, hissing out an impatient breath. She bucked toward him, and kicked off her shoes. He held both sides of her panties and ripped them apart. The scrap of lace didn’t stand a chance. She moaned, not recognizing her own hoarse sound.

  He touched her dripping wet pussy, and she wrapped her legs around him. He reached the back of her dress and unzipped it. Her braless breasts bounced free. Her dress was bunched at her waist, and besides her pearl necklace, she was naked. And oh goodness it was wonderful. Naughty. Liberating.

  “Yes. Yes,” she whispered.

  He cupped her sex, his palm rubbing against her moist heat. She kissed him in a frenzied haze. When his finger pads fondled her soaking wet walls, she shuddered. God. The man was incredible. With a growl, he thrust two fingers into her, and played with her flesh. “Your pussy is amazing.”

  She had no control over the widening of her eyes.

  He withdrew back just a notch, and peered at her with a mischievous smile. “You are blushing.”

  “I’m sorry?” she said, unsure of what the etiquette was in this kind of situation.