One Hot Crush (Hot Brits Book 3)

by Anna Durand

  A breathy moan rushes out of me. My body softens, and I part my lips for him.

  Dane pushes his tongue inside my mouth, sliding it around my tongue, the movements slow and sensual like he wants to taste every millimeter of my mouth. He grasps my hips, rocking his into me while he tugs my hips forward, making sure I feel every inch of his cock and the way it's hardening against me. He keeps kissing me in that intensely erotic way, so gentle and yet so powerful in his ability to set me on fire.

  I'm burning inside, ablaze with the need for him to love my whole body the way he's loving my mouth.

  This is wrong, isn't it? He's my boss. We shouldn't be doing this. But I don't care, because his lips feel so damn good, his tongue feels so damn good, and the hardness of his body and his erection pressing against me feels like heaven. I revel in the way he teases the roof of my mouth right before he wraps his tongue around mine. Oh God, he knows how to kiss.

  My nipples go stiff, aching for his mouth on them.

  Tunneling my fingers into his hair, I try to spread my legs for him, but my skirt prevents it. I whimper, partly from the way he's kissing me and partly because I want him inside me more than I've ever wanted a man before.

  He pulls away so suddenly I stand there frozen, with my eyes shut, for a few seconds before I realize he's not kissing me anymore.

  I blink several times.

  "We should get back to the office," he says, sounding unaffected and looking at me like I'm his PA and we didn't just enjoy a steamy kiss in the hallway of a restaurant.

  And we go back to the office.

  Chapter Four

  Dane

  For the rest of the day, and for two days after that, I avoid Rika as much as possible. What did I do? Nothing. Yes, I'm deluding myself in the worst way, but I can't work with the woman unless I convince myself nothing happened. I didn't kiss her. I certainly didn't thrust my tongue into her mouth and paste my entire body to hers. That never happened.

  Christ, she felt good, especially when her breasts were crushed against me.

  No, she didn't feel good because I never did that.

  I groan at my own stupidity. Do I actually believe I can erase what I did by pretending I'd never done it? Maybe not, but I can avoid Rika, thereby avoiding temptation too.

  Except I can't avoid her. Whenever she buzzes my phone, and I pick up so she can tell me about whatever call or meeting I need to deal with, I hear her lovely voice. She always sounds cheerful---sexily cheerful. And I wind up stammering and mumbling stupid things to her. I also wind up with a throbbing cock.

  Every time she knocks politely on my door, and I tell her to come in, she sashays up to my desk to give me whatever papers she's holding. It's usually something I need to review and sign. With her standing an arm's length away, I can't think well enough to read anything, so I pretend to consider the document even though I'm not seeing any of the words printed on the paper. Then I scrawl my signature and hand the document back to Rika, trying my damnedest not to glance at her.

  I do it anyway, every time. My eyes have a mind of their own.

  And of course, I'm left with an aching cock long after she leaves.

  On the third day, Rika brings me a large brown envelope and sets it down on my desk right in front of me. Naturally, she knocked before entering my office. And naturally, she looks exquisite this morning, in a pale-blue business suit that has a form-fitting skirt. Her shapely figure leaves me speechless, again.

  "Here you go," she says, her tone as bright as her smile. "Celeste sent over the mock-up of the new packaging. She wants your feedback on it."

  "Oh." I pry open the metal brads that hold the envelope closed. "Think---Thank you, Miss Saltzburg. Ah, Solberg. Sorry. Thank you, Miss Solberg."

  Every time I look at her, even obliquely, I get tongue-tied. It's ridiculous, but I seem to have no power to stop it. And every time I look at her, I remember my idea, the one that sounded brilliant a few days ago but now sounds like pure insanity. Still, the longer I gaze at her, the longer I admire her figure, the less insane that idea sounds.

  We have the chemistry to pull off a fake relationship. My outrageous impulse to kiss her in the restaurant proved that.

  No, I can't do it. She'll report me for sexual harassment, and I'll plead guilty.

  Rika pivots on her high heels and walks out the door.

  When she turns to close it, I hold up a hand. "Leave it open, please. I don't like being shut up in here by myself. At least with the door open, I sort of see you out there."

  I freeze, realizing what I've said. Why the fuck did I tell her that? Now she'll think I'm a pathetic fool who can't handle being on my own.

  She smiles---with sweetness, not pity. "Sure, I'll leave the door open. That'll make it easier for you to let me know when you need something. Just give me a holler."

  Rika returns to her desk.

  I can sort of see her there if I lean to the side and squint. But I do hear her voice when she answers the ringing phone. She has the loveliest voice I've ever heard.

  And the softest lips I've ever kissed.

  Focus, you idiot. Celeste Arnaud isn't paying you an enormous salary to daydream about Rika Solberg.

  Right. Back to work.

  I tip the large brown envelope up, letting the contents slide out onto my desk. It's a rectangle of red cardboard with the words Dane's Delights printed on it in gold lettering. But it's the picture in the upper left corner that shoots icy cold through my veins.

  A picture of me. My face. Below that, I see my name, and apparently, my new title---"Dane Dixon, the man behind the O's."

  "What the bloody hell?" I shout.

  Rika sprints into my office. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

  "No, I am not bloody okay." I raise the cardboard mock-up so she can see it. "Why is my face on the ruddy box?"

  She shrugs. "I'm guessing Celeste thought it needed a personal touch. Besides, you are the face of the company."

  Yes, I am technically the CEO of my little corner of Celeste's corporate empire. She left me in charge, but clearly, it's in name only. I would never have approved packaging that has my face plastered all over it---and that declares I'm the man behind the O's. What the fuck is that?

  Rika bites down on her upper lip, waiting for me to say something.

  All I can manage is a string of spluttering nonsense that never quite manages to become words.

  "What should I tell Celeste?" Rika asks. "She's waiting for your comments."

  I take a deep breath and summon all the wits I can still find. The rest seem to have flown away. "Please tell her I don't want my face on the box, and I definitely do not want to be called 'the man behind the O's.' I am not an adult film star."

  "Okay, I'll tell her."

  "And please take...this away." I shove the mock-up at her. "One viewing was enough."

  "Sure thing."

  Rika takes the cardboard monstrosity and hurries out the door.

  I try to focus on work. I'm meant to design two new devices, but after months of trying, I still can't come up with anything. Women have always been my inspiration, but I haven't had a date, much less a shag, in so long I can barely remember what a woman's naked body looks like.

  Though I have fantasized about what Rika's naked body looks like.

  After an hour of racking my brain, all I have to show for the effort is a pile of crumpled-up papers in the trash bin beside my desk. If I can't invent new sex toys, maybe I can at least meet another of Celeste's requirements.

  I shouldn't do it. But I want to do it.

  No, I don't want it. I need to do it. For the business. Not for my aching cock, but for my company.

  Clearing my throat, I call out to Rika, "Miss Solberg, would you mind coming in here, please?"

  She hustles into my office, halting in front of my desk. "What can I do for you, Mr. Dixon?"

  "Please sit down." I gesture toward the chairs just behind her
. "I need to discuss something with you."

  Rika settles onto one of the chairs, shimmying her bum like she's finding the perfect position for it on the seat. Her arse looks fantastic in that skirt, and when she's sitting down, the fabric rides up enough to let me glimpse her knees. They're bloody fantastic too, and so are her smooth, sexy calves.

  I stare at her legs like a brainless moron for so long that she finally speaks up.

  "What did you need to discuss?" she asks.

  "Oh. Yes. That." I pull my chair closer to the desk and spread my palms on it, then realize that must look odd, so I clasp my hands instead. And I clear my throat again. Twice. "The answer---the question, I mean---it, uh---"

  Fuck. Why can't I speak when I'm in her presence?

  In the restaurant the other day, we had a normal conversation. I need to channel the calmness I'd somehow marshaled on that day. Slow breaths. Don't look at her legs. Inhale calmly, exhale slowly. Look her in the eye, idiot.

  After taking a few calming breaths, I meet her gaze. "Be my girlfriend."

  She blinks once, in slow motion. Her mouth falls open. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

  Wouldn't that be the worst attempt at asking a woman out? But I don't want a girlfriend, especially not one who makes me crave her so badly I can't think straight. Why did I tell her to be my girlfriend instead of asking if she'd mind doing me the favor?

  "No, not a date," I tell her. "This would be a business arrangement. Celeste insists I must have a woman on my arm at public events. So it doesn't look like I'm a recluse living in a garden shed in the woods, or something to that effect."

  "Yeah, that would be kind of creepy."

  Does she think I'm creepy? I don't care. Maybe I do a little. No, I don't care.

  She wiggles her bum again, then leans back in the chair. "You're not creepy at all, but the idea of some loner loser designing sex toys... That is kind of icky. I can see how it might not be good for sales."

  I still don't understand why anyone needs to see my face or know my name, but Celeste is the expert. I've done reasonably well with my little company, but now she's about to launch it into the stratosphere like a rocket headed for Mars.

  Do I want that? It seemed like a good idea when she suggested it. Today, I wish I'd never signed that contract.

  "So, ah..." I fidget in my chair, though I'm positive the discomfort I feel has nothing to do with the seat. "Will you do it? Will you, um, serve as my, ah..."

  "Pretend girlfriend?"

  "Yes. That."

  She studies me like she's considering the offer.

  I fidget more. Or maybe I'm squirming. Or maybe there really is a nail poking through my seat straight into my arse.

  Rika nods once and slaps her hands on her thighs. "Yes, I'll do it. What the heck? I don't have a boyfriend right now. Hanging out with a soon-to-be-billionaire could be fun."

  How much fun will I be? I can barely speak a full sentence in her presence.

  Before she can change her mind, I say, "Thank you, Miss Solberg. I will, of course, pay you for your time."

  An entire sentence. No stammering. Miracles do happen.

  "Pay me?" Her brows lift. "I already work for you."

  A nervous laugh bursts out of me. "Oh, yes. Of course you do."

  Rika crosses her legs, resting one hand on her raised knee. "Come to think of it, you're my boss. Isn't this a conflict of interest or an ethics violation or something?"

  Bollocks. I don't want anyone to think she slept her way into this or any job. Though Celeste said she could reassign Rika if I decided to date her, there aren't any comparable positions available at Bonsoir. I checked yesterday. But I've gone too far to back out of it now, and I have no hope of finding anyone else who will take on the task of hanging on my arm, not in the timeframe Celeste gave me.

  Another bloody brilliant idea occurs to me.

  "I'll have to let you go," I say. "But I can find you another PA job. My brother Chance knows a lot of people in New York, so I'm sure he can help with that."

  Her mouth opens, her eyes widen, and she makes a soft huffing sound. "Oh great. I get fired from the best-paying job I've ever had. How is that fair? I'd basically be doing you a favor while I get shafted."

  "I'll make sure your new position pays the same or more than your current job. Chance and I will find you the perfect position." I haven't asked Chance if he'll help, and I may need to beg for it since I can't tell him why my PA needs a new job. Well, maybe I can tell him---just not the whole truth. "Since everyone will believe we're dating, they'll also understand why I need to find you a different position."

  "Okay," she says slowly, like she's not quite sure about my plan. "I'm not an actress, you know. What if I can't pretend to adore you?"

  "I'm sure you can." I adjust my tie, though it doesn't need adjusting, and squirm again. "We have, um, kissed. That should be all you might ever need to do in public."

  Her lips tighten into a smirk. "You want me to shove my tongue in your mouth at publicity events? While you glue yourself to my body?"

  I cough, splutter, and finally choke on my own saliva. Once I've stopped coughing, I tell her, "No, we won't need to do that. Simple kisses at the appropriate times will be the extent of it."

  "And hanging on your arm. Looking pretty and gazing at you adoringly."

  "You don't have to---I mean, it's not---" I take a breath and start over. "You don't need to adore me. Just behave like a normal woman who likes the man she's dating. That's all."

  She nods. "I can pull that off, I guess."

  "I'm sure you can."

  Has she actually agreed to my plan? Why would she do that? It's an outrageous thing to ask of a woman.

  "Are you sure," I ask, "that you really want to do this? I'll understand if it's too barmy for you to handle."

  "Nope, I'm fine with it. Could be fun, going out to swanky places, eating outrageously expensive food." She twists her lips into a lopsided expression. "Except all I own is work clothes and casual stuff. Will I need to buy expensive dresses or whatever?"

  "I will buy anything you need."

  "Wow, thanks." She taps her chin, seeming like she's analyzing something. "So, I get free fancy clothes, free fancy food, and the company of a hot guy. Yeah, it might be taxing, but I can handle it." She hops up and offers me her hand. "It's a deal."

  I slip my hand into hers for a brief handshake. Her palm is soft and warm. "Yes, it's a deal."

  "Great."

  We're actually doing this.

  I drum my fingers on my chair's arms. What do I say now? Should I arrange our first "date"? Maybe I need to wait until Celeste has an event she wants me to attend. Celeste didn't spell out the details, but it seems to me that Rika and I should be seen in public before the re-launch. Otherwise, it might seem like a got a girlfriend strictly for that purpose.

  Rika is smiling, and it seems almost playful. "Since I'm your fake girlfriend, do you want me to fake sleep with you? I can fake orgasms, no problem."

  I choke on my own tongue this time. When I regain the ability to speak, I say, "That won't be necessary. We need to put on the pretense of a relationship only in public."

  "Shouldn't people see me coming and going from your apartment? I mean, that's what a girlfriend would do. Right?"

  Oh bollocks. She's right. I hadn't thought of that before.

  "Uh, yes," I say. "I suppose you should do that. I'm staying at a hotel, though, not living in a flat. You don't need to stay the night. We can, ah, work out the demon---the details. Later. We can work it out later."

  "Whatever you say."

  "Thank you, Miss Solberg. I appreciate your cooperation."

  She smiles and laughs, though it's soft and not derisive. "Don't you think you should start calling me Rika?"

  Of course I should. Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks. Why couldn't I think of that either?

  "Absolutely, I should. Thank you, Rika." Speaking her
first name makes my cock twitch. Or maybe that happens because her hips and thighs are at my eye level, and I can't help staring at her body. "And you should call me Dane."

  "Starting when?"

  "Right now. We should have lunch together too, at a romantic restaurant."

  "Ooh, sorry, I can't." She makes a pinched face. "I'm having lunch with Elena and Arden. Would you mind making our first fake date for dinner instead?"

  "Yes, of course, dinner it is. I'll pick you up at eight. Uh, you'll need to give me the address."

  "Sure thing." She rattles off her address while I write it down. "See you at eight, Dane."

  Then she ambles out of my office.

  Hearing her speak my name... Christ, I've got an erection now. Her swaying hips in that skirt, her sexy voice, that smile---and she said my name.

  Can I survive fake dating her?

  Chapter Five

  Rika

  Have I lost my mind? The evidence suggests that yes, I have. Why else would I agree to fake date my boss? I've lusted for Dane Dixon since the day I met him, despite the fact he gets tongue-tied around me. That's kind of cute, actually. When Dane gets flustered, I want to climb onto his lap and kiss his cheek. Then kiss other parts of him, starting with his lips. Since I've wanted him to pay more attention to me, our new arrangement feels like a dream come true.

  So naturally, my reaction was to say, "Yes, please, sign me up! Woo-hoo!"

  Maybe I didn't speak those precise words, but what I did say amounted to the same thing. I got so excited I wanted to fist-pump right in front of my uptight boss.

  Until I realized he doesn't really want to date me. He wants to show me off in public, so everyone will think he has a girlfriend and he's not a creepy loner who beats off while watching internet porn in his tool shed. Okay, sure, I get that. It's an image thing. But why can't we legitimately date?