Taken by the CEO (The Scandalous Wentworths)

by Stefanie London

  “Doing what?”

  “Strategy. I’m developing a new direction to help the company be more profitable.” It wasn’t technically a lie. “It’s all very boring, I assure you. I spend my days looking at spreadsheets and reports.”

  She smiled. “Would you prefer to have a room full of rug rats creating absolute chaos?”

  “Honestly,” he said, “that’s exactly how my job feels sometimes.”

  Convincing board members who were decades older than him to switch to new technologies and business models was much like trying to discipline young children. There was a lot of arguing, foot stamping, and blatant manipulation.

  She laughed and gave him a look that immediately diverted his attention away from work and made him think all kinds of dirty, sexy things. “Are you one of those guys who’s totally married to their job?”

  He paused as the waiter delivered their food. “Yes. One hundred percent.”

  A delicious aroma wafted up from the juicy steak on his plate, and his mouth watered in Pavlovian response. This restaurant and bar was far from the places where he usually ate, which were a little less funky and a little more Michelin star rated, but the drinks were well mixed and the food smelled incredible. Plus, there was the added benefit of being unlikely to run into any of his father’s business cronies or anyone else who might know him.

  “So you’re not looking for marriage and babies and a white picket fence?” She twirled her fork into a plateful of creamy pasta.

  “Definitely not.”

  He wasn’t opposed to marriage, in theory. Many great business deals had been forged in the halls of a church. But being in a relationship required you to trust other people, to depend on them…and if there was one thing he’d learned, it was that the people you trusted could hurt you the most. Being vulnerable was something he actively avoided.

  Then there was the fact that he worked like a dog because his career was number one. Women didn’t like to hear that they had to take a back seat. And really, no relationship would ever mean more to him than his legacy at the Wentworth Group.

  “Great,” Sarah said, popping a forkful of pasta into her mouth.

  He raised a brow. “Great?”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.” A sly smile curved up the corners of her lips. “I’ve been there, done that, and I am not interested in going down that path again.”

  He said a silent prayer of thanks to the sex gods for sending him the perfect woman. “Sounds like we’re a match made in heaven,” he quipped.

  She stared at him for a moment, her eyes sparkling, and it was as if she could see directly into his soul. “I like you, Parker.”

  “I like you, too, Sarah.”

  The tip of her tongue ran along her lower lip, and he grew hard beneath the soft material of his suit pants as he imagined what that tongue would feel like running along the length of him.

  “Are you going to take me home tonight?” she asked, her voice soft and breathy.

  His body roared as though she’d offered him the world on a silver platter. “Yes, I am.”

  One night with a lovely stranger—a stranger who had legs for miles and the face of an angel. One amazing night to fulfill both of their needs. All the good bits without a morning after to distract him from his goals.

  As much as he thought Sarah was the kind of woman he could want in his life, he had to keep his focus. And his plans didn’t include more than one night.

  Chapter Four

  Emmaline met Parker’s gaze across the table. His warm, hazel eyes traveled up and down the length of her in open appreciation, and she hoped to hell he hadn’t noticed how shaky her hands were.

  It must be heaven to have someone look at you like that all the time.

  She drew a slow breath and tried not to let her imagination go crazy at the fact that she’d decided to have her first ever one-night stand.

  Was she really going to do this? Sleep with a guy on the first date?

  She’d never been sexually adventurous or confident, and the fear of being out of her depth bobbed in her mind. What was the protocol? Did she get up and leave after the deed was done? Or should she stay and then leave in the morning? That would mean she’d have to get herself home in these ridiculous heels.

  It’s not a big deal. People do it all the time.

  People, but not her. Emmaline had dated Conrad for six months before they slept together. She’d been so concerned with making sure he wanted her for more than what she would do for him in bed. Turns out, that shouldn’t have been her biggest concern.

  “How’s the steak?” she asked, shaking the worries away.

  “Delicious.” The word poured over her like warm honey. How he managed to make one benign little word sound like sex personified was beyond her.

  “You have a sexy voice,” she said, trying to breathe through the fluttering in her stomach. “Say something else.”

  “Like what?” He laughed, and the sound swept along her skin like a caress.

  “Anything.”

  “Come here.” He raked a hand through his brown hair and patted the curved section of the booth between them. “I want to whisper it.”

  She shuffled around, her dress rising up her thighs, until they were next to each other at the back of the booth. The scent of his aftershave coiled around her like an embrace. Heat radiated from him as their legs pressed together, and the air crackled with tension. It fizzed and popped like fireworks.

  “My driver is waiting outside,” he said, his warm breath fanning out over her skin as he snaked his arm around her shoulders. “Let’s order dessert to go. There’s champagne chilling in the car, and I want very much to get you out of that dress and into my bed.”

  Her breath stuttered. “Yes.”

  “To which part?” He gave her a crooked grin that melted her.

  “All of it.” She turned her face to his and brushed her lips against his jaw. “Everything. Now.”

  His skin was smooth, his lips as wickedly curved as the lines on a sports car. The second his mouth slanted over hers, her eyes slammed shut and she pressed into him. It was the briefest of kisses, a teaser of what was to come. Sinful pleasure and total abandon.

  …

  Outside the night air had cooled a little, but summer still blanketed the air with balmy warmth. Sarah’s shoulders were bare to his eyes. All that white lace against her fair skin and light gold hair gave off an angelic look, but then she had those towering blue shoes that made his mouth run dry and his blood pulse harder. He’d tell her to leave them on.

  “What did you order?” Sarah tried to lift the lid of the white cake box in his hands. “They do the best cannoli here.”

  He’d ordered the dessert to go while Sarah had gone to “freshen up,” as she’d put it. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

  “Do you have a sweet tooth?” she asked, her heels clicking against the pavement.

  “Depends on my mood.” It also depended on what else he’d eaten that day. Parker wasn’t the type of guy to indulge without first knowing how it would affect him on a macro nutrient level—but that sounded a little too Type-A to say aloud. “I’m partial to the occasional piece of chocolate cake.”

  “I make this chocolate cake with caramel buttercream frosting between the layers. My sister calls it the Better Than Sex cake.” She snapped her mouth shut for a moment, and a delicate pink flush fanned out across her cheeks. “Well, it’s pretty good, anyway…if you like that kind of thing.”

  “Better than sex?” He chuckled. “That’d have to be some damn good cake.”

  “I guess it depends on the kind of sex you compare it to,” she said, the flush deepening to an attractive shade of bright pink. “What I mean is, not all sex is like chocolate cake. Sometimes it’s more like…”

  “Pizza?” he offered.

  “I was going to say kale.” She wrinkled her nose. “I know it’s good for me on some level, but it’s just kind of unappealing. And weird.”

&nb
sp; “Right.” He held back a laugh.

  “I’m not saying you’ll be the kale kind of sex. I know you definitely won’t be. I can tell that already…” She sucked on her lower lip and sighed. “Can we just forget I said anything?”

  “Oh no, you don’t get out of it that easily.” He shook his head. “What type of sex do you think I’ll be?”

  “Better than cake.” Her lower lip glistened, tempting as ripe fruit. “Better than champagne and macarons and filet mignon.”

  “That’s some pedestal you’ve put me on.”

  He resisted the urge to toss their dessert onto the ground and take her up against the wall. A restless itch developed in his palms, and it would only be sated when he grabbed fistfuls of her hair and her ass. He wanted to taste her. He wanted to run his lips down the length of her neck and scrape his teeth along her collarbone. Pressure built behind the fly of his pants—he was harder than concrete. He needed to have her.

  “You can handle it,” she said with a wink.

  “Can you?”

  Her eyes flickered like blue fire. “Absolutely.”

  They stopped next to a black Audi and his driver, James, got out. With an efficient but friendly greeting, he opened the door and waited while Sarah slid onto the leather seat. Her dress pushed higher up on her thighs and she tugged the fabric back down, but not before he’d gotten a glimpse of creamy skin. The ride home would be sweet, sweet torture.

  “You have a personal driver?” she said as he took the spot next to her and tapped the button to close the partition between them and James. “You’re not famous, are you?”

  “I can’t be that famous if you have no idea who I am. Besides, we didn’t exactly get mobbed by paparazzi at dinner, did we?” He set the cake box on his lap and reached for the champagne stowed in the door. The glass was cold against his heated skin.

  “So you’re just rich, then?”

  He rubbed his hand over the cork, a strange feeling turning over in his gut. Had he misjudged her? Would she act differently now that she knew he had money?

  “I am.” Although rich didn’t quite hint at the level of wealth his family had accumulated over the years. And Parker had tripled his share by using his knack for numbers to pick out a few smart investments rather than blowing it all on clothes and travel like his brother and sister. “Does that change things?”

  “No.” She shrugged. “I’m just hoping it means you splurged and got the fancy salted caramel cheesecake.”

  The pressure in his chest eased. “Open it.”

  She reached out and lifted the cake box from his lap, flipping up the lid with a satisfied smirk. “I knew you had good taste.”

  He eased the cork out of the bottle with a soft pop. “Grab the glasses there and let me pour you a drink.”

  The car made its way toward the bright lights of Melbourne’s CBD. They had a glass of champagne each, and she alternated between sipping her drink and plunging her plastic fork into the creamy depths of the small cake.

  “You’d better eat some of this, or I’m going to finish the whole lot.” She pushed the box along the leather seat toward him.

  “I’m quite happy watching you eat.” It wasn’t a lie. The way she’d push the fork through her soft lips and sigh with pleasure was sending all the blood in his body south. “It’s nice to be out with someone who appreciates good food.”

  “I feel like dating protocol says I should be pushing a lettuce leaf around my plate, but it’s just not me.” She took a sip of her drink. “I’m always the one baking sweets and bringing them into the office…I mean, the staff room. You know, where the teachers are.”

  “What do you bake?” The car turned onto St. Kilda Road and zipped past the Royal Botanical Gardens.

  “Oh, everything.” She tossed her plastic fork into the cake box and closed the lid. “Cookies, cakes, pastries, cupcakes, you name it. Mostly sweet stuff because that’s what I like.”

  “Sounds decadent.”

  “I like to keep my hands busy.” She raised her champagne flute to her lips and finished off her drink. “But I guess I won’t have to worry about that tonight.”

  Her lips curled into a shy smile, and he took her glass, stashing it away in the side compartment of the door. In the low lighting, her hair gleamed as it spilled over her shoulders. Long and beautifully unrestrained.

  Unable to stop himself, he caught a few strands and brushed them behind her neck, the back of his knuckles grazing her skin. She shivered.

  “Feel free to keep your hands as busy as you like,” he said, tracing his thumb over the pale shell of her ear. Everything about her was delicate in some way, from her long and slender fingers to her finely boned wrists and willowy legs. “I don’t mind.”

  “Thank you.” She shuffled closer to him and slid her palms up his chest. “I’ll take you up on that kind offer.”

  Her warm, sweet scent curled into him, and he was desperate to see if she tasted as heavenly. “That offer is extended to your lips as well.”

  “Aren’t you the generous one.” Her tongue darted out as if anticipating his kiss.

  “I aim to please.”

  She tilted her face to him in invitation, her hands fisting in his shirt, though she didn’t pull him toward her. By night’s end, he’d teach her how to demand what she wanted, and he’d take the greatest pleasure in giving it to her.

  Warm breath puffed against his lips as he hovered, drawing out the anticipation for an extra heartbeat before he slanted his mouth over hers. Claiming her lips with his own. She was oh-so sweet—the taste of cake and champagne and her own honeyed flavor a delight to his senses. Threading his fingers into her hair, he angled her head back and pressed his tongue between her lips.

  Her fists tightened as a moan of appreciation dissolved between them. There was no way to get close enough in the backseat, no way that he could feel her in the way he wanted to. Needed to. But he’d damn well try.

  Reaching down between them, he unclicked the buckles of their seat belts and tugged her into his lap. It was cramped, but the sweet press of her ass against his very hard, very achy cock was well worth a little contortion. A soft sigh escaped her lips as he moved his mouth along her jaw, tilting her head gently so he could suck at the sensitive skin on her neck.

  The car hit a bump and she bounced in his lap, causing him to grind against her. They must be in the apartment complex already, and he wanted to shout in both relief and frustration. He didn’t want her to move or stop the flick of her tongue against his, but the second he got her upstairs…

  The car stopped, and Sarah scrambled into her seat, her silky hair now slightly disheveled. She didn’t look James in the eye as he held the door for her.

  “That’ll be all for tonight,” Parker said, giving James a nod. “I’ll let you know if Sarah needs a ride tomorrow morning.” He came up behind her and pressed his hand to the small of her back, guiding her to the elevator that would take them up to his penthouse apartment. “There’s no need to blush, you haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “I forgot where I was for a moment,” she said, touching her fingertips to her lips as if remembering their kiss. “I’m usually able to control myself much better than that.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.” The elevator arrived, and he held the door for her as they entered. He jabbed the button for the top floor. “I’m making it my mission tonight to ensure you forget about everything except how good we feel together.”

  She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “That won’t take much.”

  His hand slid from her back to the side of her waist, drawing her closer to him. “Just so you know, I’m not one to rest on my laurels.”

  Silky hair brushed his neck as she leaned her head on his shoulder. It was a surprisingly sweet gesture given that they were about to embark on a one-night stand, but something told him that was just the way she was. Sweet, even when he was hoping things would get dirty.

  Chapter Five


  Emmaline couldn’t remember the last time her heart had pounded so hard…well, from something positive, anyway. She slid her hand over Parker’s and slipped her fingers between his. When he gave a reassuring squeeze, some of her apprehension melted away.

  A tiny part of her toyed with the idea of backing out, of calling the whole thing off and getting a taxi home. But that was nerves about her inexperience. She’d only ever slept with one man. What if it was totally different with another person and she didn’t know what to do?

  What if she was terrible in bed?

  Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft ping as the elevator doors slid open. They stepped out into a hallway and headed toward one of only two doors on the whole floor. She’d gripped Parker’s hand so tightly little half-moon­-shaped indentations had been made in his skin. Flustered, she let go as they reached his door.

  “Ready?” he asked with a wicked smile as he pushed his key into the lock.

  Her breath hitched. “Of course.”

  He opened the door and held it for her, ever the perfect gentleman. There was something slightly old-fashioned about his manners, an innate politeness that appealed to her on some basal level. It made her feel safe, cared for.

  The apartment looked as though it had fallen out of the pages of an interior design magazine. Totally open-plan, it had panoramic views of Melbourne the entire length of the living space. City lights glistened against an inky sky, winking at her as if they knew exactly what she was about to do. Luckily for her, stars couldn’t talk.

  “This place is amazing,” she said, walking in a 360-degree rotation to take it all in.

  A white leather couch stretched out facing the view, which was only obscured in one section by a large flat-screen TV. A glossy black coffee table held a folded-up newspaper and an iPad, the only real signs that anyone lived there. The rest of the place was spotlessly clean, not a dish or cup or glass anywhere. Not that Emmaline was an untidy person, but even she left the odd teacup on a side table.