There was a hot tub on her balcony, and she was inside it. Presumably naked.
Fuck.
“Jack? What are you doing here?”
He couldn’t see much of her because of the steam billowing off the surface of the water, so her voice sounded odd, disembodied. Then one arm snaked out and felt around the edge of the tub. He spied a towel just out of her grasp. The gentlemanly thing would be to hand it to her.
He did nothing. Just stood there while his skin heated, even in the sub-zero air. He caught sight of a shoulder as she leaned a little over the edge, still in search of the towel. Water poured off reddened flesh, and his dick, which had already been making itself known, went rock hard.
He took a step forward. He could reach the towel now. His hands closed over the fluffy white terrycloth.
He moved it out of her reach.
“Go inside, and I’ll be in in a sec,” she said. He thought she must be facing away from him given the way her voice was muffled.
“Okay,” he said through the wall of steam. He was lying. His body had taken over, and it was battling with his better self. His better self was losing, because he clicked the door shut audibly behind him, making it sound like he’d gone back inside. But he hadn’t. He just kept standing there, a fool staring at a cloud of steam, about to make a huge mistake.
He had to bite the insides of his cheeks to keep from groaning when she stood up. She had been facing away from him. As she stood and the steam parted, it was her back his eyes rested on. She lifted her hair over her head to wring water from it, exposing an elegant neck. Sexy shoulder blades—who knew shoulder blades could be sexy?—and then her waist narrowed before she widened out at the hips.
And her ass. Oh, her ass. Pink from the hot water, and so pert. Generous. Ideal in proportion to the rest of her. His fingers started flexing of their own accord. Christ, those ass checks were so grabbable, each a perfect, overflowing handful.
Then she turned.
“Shit,” he groaned, at exactly the same time she gasped. Her eyes widened and one hand flew to her mouth. Yes, surprise. He was supposed to be inside, not out here ogling her, but he didn’t care anymore. It mattered only that the shock painting her features give way to something else. He didn’t want surprise.
He wanted…yes, there it was. Desire. She caught her lower lip with her top teeth and let out a little sigh. He let his eyes slide down her front, lingering on her criminally gorgeous breasts, her rounded hips, the dark V of curls where her thighs met. Every inch of her shimmered as the afternoon light hit her wet skin.
They stood there for a moment, staring at each other, suspended like ice statues in the arctic air. He wasn’t sure who made the first move, just that suddenly they were launching themselves at each other, and he was dragging her out of the tub and back into her room.
“You’ll get wet,” she said, even as she wrapped her legs around his waist, soaking his jeans with the rivers of water running off her body.
He didn’t bother answering in words, just crashed his mouth down on hers and let himself gather those handfuls of ass. The groan that ripped from his throat sounded totally alien to him, calling to mind torture as much as pleasure. It triggered an answering moan from Cassie, who threw her head back in clear invitation.
He licked his way down her neck, more quickly than he perhaps should. He couldn’t resist the siren call of those pink, now rock-hard nipples. When he took one in his mouth, she cried out and pushed him toward the bed, shoving him down and climbing on top of him. He struggled to keep her breast in his mouth the whole time and, once they were horizontal, both breasts dangling above him, he used his hands to knead them, too.
When she responded by snatching them away, he growled. But she’d pulled back just enough to undo his fly. He lifted his hips off the bed, and she slid his pants and underwear off in one swoop. Then—oh, God—she straddled him.
“I don’t have any condoms,” she whispered. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck. He didn’t either. Not even back in his room. Because she was right. This was not supposed to happen. He let out a howl of frustration as she rubbed herself over the tip of his cock. She was impossibly wet already.
“Have you been tested for everything?” she whispered. “Are you clean?”
“Yes, but—”
“I am, too.” She plunged down on him.
“Oh, fuck!” he shouted, his head nearly exploding as she took him in, nothing between them but flesh on fire.
“My period is due any day,” she whispered.
She must be implying that she wasn’t fertile at the moment. Even so, this was a mistake. For so many reasons. He tried to say they should stop, to push her off. What came out, though, was “I’ll pull out.”
She nodded and pushed herself up onto her knees and then plunged back down.
Oh my God. Jack had always been a religious user of condoms. Aside from a few fumbling attempts with high school girlfriends who’d been on the pill, there was always—always—a layer of latex between him and anyone else in his bed. He would call it a rule, but it was so much common sense it didn’t even rate rule status. He couldn’t afford any mistakes. So he made sure he never made any.
But Jesus fucking Christ, how was he ever going to go back? Cassie rode him, and at the bottom of every stroke she ground into him, tipping forward and circling her hips a little so her clit ground against him.
He reached up and pulled her head down for a kiss, needing to slow the pace so things didn’t end just as they were beginning. From this angle, she couldn’t lever her hips up as effectively. He’d been aiming for a little mercy, but when she opened her mouth over his, it was just as bad as when she was riding him. Tangling his fingers in her damp hair, he plunged his tongue into her mouth, wanting to gobble up her cinnamon lips. He couldn’t get enough. There would never be enough.
He pushed her away, and she whimpered in protest. He had to get on top so he could pull out when the time came.
“Come back,” she breathed. He flipped her and paused for a moment to control his audible panting.
She must have thought he was reconsidering, because her brow furrowed and she said, “Please.”
“Say my name,” he whispered. Suddenly he needed to hear it on her lips, like he had the last time they were together at his house. If this was the last time, he needed to memorize what it sounded like when she breathed his name, voice shaky with desire.
She didn’t hesitate. “Jack,” she said. “Jack, please.”
It almost undid him. He thrust into her, and she threw her head back and bit her lip. It wasn’t going to be long, the feeling of her heat directly on his skin nearly blistering him. He pressed a thumb down on her clit, not wanting to get too far ahead of her.
“Oh my God!” she gasped, and he needn’t have worried about pacing, because suddenly she was contracting around him, shuddering all around his cock, her whole body quaking in his arms.
“Unnnh,” he groaned, using all his willpower to press himself back up onto his elbows.
“Don’t pull out,” she whispered. “You don’t have to.”
It was like there was an unbreakable magnetic force keeping their hips together. Moving an inch out of her felt like moving lead. But he had to, before he got utterly lost in the waves of pleasure tearing through him.
“Jesus,” he bit out. It was going to be too late. He heaved, rearing back and spilling on her belly—mostly.
Shit.
…
Cassie couldn’t bring herself to regret it. How could you regret the best sex of your life? She did regret that they had only been sprawled out on the bed, silent and breathing heavily, for two minutes before there was a rap on the door, effectively dashing her hopes that there would be a round two in the hot tub. Maybe real regrets would come later, but right now she wanted to throttle whoever was at the door.
Another rap, more insistent this time. She let loose a giggle when Jac
k responded by diving off the far side of the bed and hiding behind it. Throwing a bed sheet around herself, she opened the door an inch and peeked out so that only her eyes were visible.
“Yes?” Crapola. It was Junior.
She bit back a nervous giggle. It was just that the contrast was kind of amusing. On the other side of the door was a lazy, entitled man-boy who assumed people were going to give him what he wanted as he rotted away, oblivious, in a fantasyland. On the other side of the bed was a capital-M Man who knew what he wanted and worked hard to get it. And who had a knack for making fantasy into reality.
“I need to speak to you,” said Junior. “I want to show you something.”
Her smile disappeared. The contrast was amusing, yes. But the proximity between the two men, and the frightening possibility that discovering Jack here might jeopardize the deal, sobered her instantly.
“Sure. Can you just give me a couple minutes? I’m just getting out of the uh…shower.”
“Need some help getting dressed?” He pretended to push the door open, and she panicked for a moment, thinking the gesture in earnest. Pushing back against the door, she said, “I need a moment, Brian!” She heard the urgency in her tone, and she also heard Jack stirring behind the bed. So she tempered her voice and mustered her friendliest, “Great, thanks! How about I meet you in the great room in ten?”
“Dress for outside,” he said as she shut the door in his face.
“Like hell you’re meeting him,” said Jack, standing up behind the bed, stark naked.
She dragged her eyes away from his magnificent chest. “Don’t worry. Let me just see what he wants. I can feel him out regarding the sale.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“No! He likes me. It’s better for me to go alone.”
“I thought we agreed that he whatevers you,” Jack snarled.
Cassie just rolled her eyes and started getting dressed.
Fifteen minutes later she and Brian were hiking away from the house, down the main road, the only one that was plowed this time of year. Uncharacteristically silent, he trudged ahead of her, the crunch of the icy snow beneath their boots the only sound. After they’d gone maybe half a mile, he stopped abruptly and turned toward the woods that abutted the road. “We turn here.”
Cassie shivered, and it wasn’t from the cold. Maybe Jack had been right. “Where are we going?” she asked, though she knew that if he was planning something sinister, he probably wasn’t going to furnish her with the details ahead of time.
“I want to show you my tree house.”
Huh? Was that a euphemism for something?
“My father had it built in a giant tree just a little way in. When I was seven.”
Curiosity got the better of her. “Okay, lead the way.”
Five minutes later she stood at the base of a huge oak tree, looking up at an amazingly elaborate two-story structure perched fifteen feet up in its branches.
“It’s easier to climb if you take your gloves off,” Brian called down. When she hesitated, he said, “Don’t worry, this thing is rock solid. My father hired an architect and an engineering firm.”
She almost laughed at that. Okay, well, what the heck?
Gingerly, she made her way up, grabbing one wooden crossbar after another as she scaled the trunk.
“Wow,” she exclaimed once inside. She’d emerged into a room that was bigger than it seemed from the outside. The floor was covered with snow, but the wooden walls were smooth and polished. There were some old folding chairs, a small table, and some empty beer cans in one corner. And, startlingly, some remnants of the boy Brian had been endured. A half-finished model airplane that had seen better days lay in a corner and a fishing rod rested against the wall.
Well, if she thought finding herself in Muskoka this week was unexpected, obviously she’d never given any consideration to the idea of finding herself in a tree house in Muskoka.
“There’s a sleeping platform up there.” Brian pointed over his shoulder, wagging his eyebrows only slightly—almost self-mockingly.
“This place is amazing,” she said. “You must have loved it here as a kid.”
“It was all right.” He shrugged. “I’m really more of a city person.” He looked like he wanted to say more, so she practiced her bartender silent treatment. “Actually, I pretty much hated this island,” he added.
Hope sparked in her chest. Hated it enough to let his father sell it?
“I was an only child. At least in the city I had friends. Stuff to do. Here I had this.”
She wanted to snort her disbelief, her outrage at what he had taken for granted. What wouldn’t she have given to have had access to this place? To beaches and trails and snowmobiles and forests? And stars.
“I want you to tell me how much money Jack Winter will give us for the company.”
She blinked rapidly, her initial surprise followed by annoyance that he’d used the word “us,” when Wexler Construction was clearly the product of hard work by Wexler Senior alone.
“No one seems to want to name a figure, and I’d like to know how much.”
There was a figure being bandied about, a ballpark. But if neither Wexler nor Jack had told Junior, maybe they didn’t want him to know.
“I’m not an idiot, you know,” he said. “I know my father wants me to take over the company. And I know that I’d be a disaster at it.”
“You’d have a lot to learn, but you could do it.” Yeah, nice—try to talk the guy into blocking the sale. Still, a sliver of sympathy for him worked itself under her skin. Looking at Brian Wexler and his life crystallized the adage that money can’t buy happiness.
“Nah. Old dog, new tricks.” He picked up a stick and started drawing a swirl pattern in the snow on the floor. They were silent a moment, and then he looked up at her. “How much?”
She hesitated only a moment. “Seventy-eight million.”
He nodded.
“I’m being honest when I say I think it’s a fair price,” said Cassie.
“It’s a lot of money.”
Cassie was a little surprised to hear that coming from him. What was a lot of money to these people? What was pocket change? It was hard to tell. “You could do a lot of things with that much money,” she said lamely. She meant that he could found a company he was interested in, could help people. But he was probably thinking more about trips and cars and other luxuries.
“I want you to ask me nicely. That’s all I want. Someone to ask me nicely.”
“Excuse me?”
He looked up at her, and if she’d seen any vulnerability in his eyes before, it was gone. “I want you to ask me nicely not to block the sale.”
Cassie wasn’t sure if she should follow her natural instinct, which was to throw up on his shoes, or do what he asked. Being bossed around by such an immature creep made her stomach churn. But if “asking nicely” was all it took to facilitate the deal, what did it really matter?
She schooled her face into what she hoped was a neutral expression. “Will you please not block the sale of your father’s company to Winter Enterprises?”
“Ask me again, but say my name.”
Gross. This was worse, in a way, than all his lurching come-ons. He was lording his power over her, probably because he knew he couldn’t have her. It was humiliating. She was tempted to just turn and climb down the tree, but, then, she was in a tree! It was all so absurd anyway, and there was a lot at stake. For Jack, but also for her. She wanted this deal to go through as much as he did, and not just because of the money. Even though she could never publicly take credit, it would be something to hold on to, in her heart, once Jack was gone.
“Brian, will you please not block the sale of your father’s company to Winter Enterprises?” she said, speaking slowly and clearly, ignoring the adrenaline rush that accompanied the task.
More silence as the scratch of his stick on the snow resumed. After a full minute he said, once again, “I’m really more of a
city person.” Turning serious, his face changed for an instant so he looked nothing like the usual freewheeling skater-dude she’d come to know. Her heart sped up. If he was saying what she thought he was saying, they’d won.
But then he grinned at her, and the frat boy was back. “You sure you don’t want a tour of the sleeping platform?”
“No thanks,” she said softly, once again feeling inexplicably sorry for him.
He just nodded. “That Jack is a lucky bastard.”
She didn’t bother correcting him.
Chapter Seventeen
“I think Junior is going to agree,” Cassie whispered in Jack’s ear as she came into the great room for cocktails. Relief washed over him. Not at what she said, but at her presence. He’d spent the balance of the afternoon after she departed wracked with worry. He’d invented a million reasons to be roaming the halls of the house, hoping to see or hear her, to find evidence that she’d returned from her time with Brian unscathed. But since he could hardly set up camp outside her bedroom, she must have slipped in without him noticing.
The thought of Brian Wexler with Cassie, even just walking with her, made him crazy. It made him want to get this deal done not just because he wanted to buy Wexler’s company, but because he didn’t want Brian to have it. He was fully aware that this made him no better than a kid who doesn’t want a toy for himself but also won’t share it, but he didn’t give a fuck. Cassie was too good to spend another minute in that jackass’s presence.
“What do you mean?” he asked, forcing his mind back to what she’d actually said.
“Junior may not be as bad as he seems,” she whispered, but was interrupted by the arrival of both Wexlers and Tania.
“I have a crazy idea!” boomed David.
“You’re going to love it!” said Tania.
“We have a room on the lower level that faces the back,” said David. “A kind of family room we sometimes use for garden parties in the summer because the back wall is all windows. There’s a big grill outside. Let’s have a winter picnic. We’ll grill steaks. We can eat inside and watch the stars come out.”
Saving the CEO (49th Floor #1) Page 17
