There was ripping and tearing. At least one button went flying. He wasn’t sure whose. He didn’t care. He’d fucking buy her a new suit if he had to.
With one hand he tugged and yanked her skirt up over her hips, with the other he shoved down the straps of her bra and kneaded and cupped until his thumb raked her nipples into heavy, responsive peaks.
She managed to force his trousers down over his hips as he figured out how to release the front catch on her bra. ‘Wait, wait,’ he said, struggling to breathe in the charged atmosphere, trying to keep his head clear. He nearly elbowed her as he tugged his wallet from his pocket.
In his distracted efforts, he stumbled backward over the backpack, pulling her down on top of him, forcing the breath from his lungs with a grunt.
‘Oh my God!’ she cried out. They landed in a heap sprawled across the soft carpet. With her sitting astraddle him, he yanked and tugged at his wallet, money, credit cards, and receipts falling like confetti until he found the silver foil packet, which he ripped open, launching the condom into the air in his frenzied efforts.
‘Shit,’ they both cursed at the same time. She was already tugging at his boxers as he grabbed up the rogue condom, rolled it down over his arcing erection, and thrust up into it, nearly bucking her off his thighs with the effort. He tugged the crotch of her panties aside. For a second he glimpsed the warm depths of her before they clawed and shifted and positioned to get what, until now, neither of them had known they needed so desperately.
Once he pushed into her, it was his turn to cry out. ‘Oh God, Dee! I can’t stand it!’ He grabbed her hips and held her tight. ‘Hold still. Don’t move. Give me a second.’
It had been a long time since he’d had any sex other than with his own fist, and his sensitivity was astounding, embarrassing actually. His chest rose and fell like bellows. Dee sat impaled, eyes closed, hands cupping her breasts, breathing like there was fire in her chest. She felt stretched exquisitely tight and warm and tetchy around his girth, and the few seconds he held her there seemed an eternity, suspended in the delicious agony of needing to thrust, but knowing to wait. Just a few more seconds until he felt in better control
When he was certain he wouldn’t embarrass himself, he gathered her to him, feeling the carpet abrade his elbows as he rolled on top of her, still buried to the hilt. And he began to thrust. She tightened her legs around his hips and rose in rhythm to meet his efforts, growling at him as he growled back, balling her fists against his back, straining upward onto her impaler, meeting strength with strength. And her strength was impressive. She was all muscle and sinew, rounded and softened with delicious curves engulfing him in the feel and the power and the scent of femaleness, the tidal scent of steamy summer, the scent of lust tightly controlled. No doubt some of that was his own. And the blending of the two was intoxicating.
It was all over in a few minutes. They exploded into release like glass shattering on concrete. He came with a heavy groan and collapsed on top of her while she convulsed in orgasm. Surely he was dreaming. Surely he was asleep, and his psyche had fabricated the whole experience in an effort to relieve stress. Surely it couldn’t be real. He’d wake up soon.
They lay panting on the floor in a tangle of discarded clothing and trembling limbs, as his brain gradually regained control. In his fantasies, he always made it last, lingering to tease and pleasure Dee their first time together. And it was true; he actually had fantasised about her, about the woman he’d never met, the woman whose photo was in the dossier Beverly had put together. He’d fantasised about her from his first glance at Beverly’s wild concoction of a resume. And he had no doubt that had been a part of Beverly’s scheme.
But he was always a good lover in his fantasies; no awkward moments, no clumsy efforts. In his fantasies he always pleasured her like she’d never been pleasured before. He never imagined he’d take her with such force. He never imagined he’d take her at all, at least not in the real world. God, what must she think? He found himself remembering Beverly’s Executive Sex Clause. No doubt this situation would meet with her approval, but at the moment, he wasn’t sure what he felt, other than dismayed that he’d lost control.
Finally he found the breath to speak. ‘Dee, are you all right? I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me; I don’t know what I was thinking. I didn’t mean to be such an animal.’
‘I like animals.’ She spoke around laboured breath.
The sting her nails had left across his shoulders and back convinced him she might be a bit of an animal herself, a thought that brought with it a new wave of arousal, which he tried to suppress. ‘Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. I want you to know that I never, that I wouldn’t –’
‘I know. Me neither,’ she said.
Neither of them made any effort to get up or to move out of each other’s arms. In fact, the feel of her so close was worth hanging on to. He’d rest for a little while with her so nicely wrapped around him. Just for a few minutes, then he’d call Jeffries to take him to the airport. Just a little while longer, close to her warmth. That was all he needed. Just a few more delicious minutes.
Chapter Three
‘He’ll be with you in just a minute,’ Ellis’s secretary said. She left Dee seated uncomfortably in Beverly’s empty office. As soon as she was gone, Dee stood and began to pace.
It hadn’t been her intention to see Ellis. It had been her intention to sneak back into Pneuma Inc., claim the files she’d left on Beverly’s desk, and leave quietly. Then, when Beverly got back, she’d give them to her in person. There had been no need to bother anyone, no need to bother Ellis. She intended to leave undetected, just like she had done last night.
She couldn’t even think about last night without a full-fledged infestation of butterflies rising in her stomach and chest. She’d had sex with Ellison Thorne, for fuck’s sake! Just like that; no planning, scheming nor contemplating. They had humped each other’s brains out. And it had been amazing, if all too brief. But that wasn’t the point. The point was that it shouldn’t have happened. He was her client. Well, Beverly was; Pneuma Inc. was. It was so unprofessional. What the hell must he think of her? She knew it had been only for comfort, but he was Ellison Thorne, and she was a nobody. And she had always been a professional with a good reputation at Pneuma Inc. And now this.
Last night they had dozed together in each other’s arms after they’d had sex. It was wonderfully intimate until guilt got the best of her. She had extricated herself from his arms without waking him, which was a testament to just how exhausted the man was. She’d covered him gently with the blanket from the back of the sofa, then she had hurriedly dressed and left, forgetting the files on Beverly’s desk.
When she’d called Sandra this morning, thinking just to sneak in and get them, Sandra told her Ellis wanted to see her. Though she was relieved that he hadn’t carried through with his crazy plan to return to Brazil last night, she was not looking forward to their encounter. She paced the floor in Beverly’s office nervously.
‘You have my staff wrapped around your little finger.’
She jumped at the sound of Ellis’s voice. Unlike last night, unlike their first encounter, his tone was cheerful, his smile welcoming. He stood dressed in a charcoal suit with a silver blue tie over a crisp white shirt, once again looking like the Ellison Thorne she had grown used to seeing on the covers of magazines and on the evening news. He held a coffee in one hand and a glass of iced tea in the other. ‘Sandra informed me that this is for you.’ He handed her the tea and offered her a smile that made the butterfly dance move lower in her abdomen. Much lower. ‘It’s your personal glass, she tells me. Reserved for the only person in the history of Pneuma Inc., as far as I know, that Sandra would deign to even bring coffee to, let alone make a special drink for. She’s an executive secretary, and a damn good one. She’s not a housewife, a fact she reminds us all of periodically.’ He pushed the door shut behind him and the butterfly dance got wilder.
/> She took the tea. ‘Any more news?’
He shook his head. ‘Storm’s abating more slowly than expected, so I’m still here. But it is abating. Beverly’s meeting went as well as could be expected under the circumstances.’ He held her gaze. ‘We’re keeping her absence a secret until we know for sure what’s going on, so I had to lie to Alan Marston. Not an easy task.’
She knew Alan Marston, or at least by reputation. He was a client of Jasper and McDowell’s from time to time, but even as good as she was at her job, he would work with no one but Fred Jasper.
‘Beverly owes me big time for dealing with Marston,’ he said. He moved behind the desk and pulled a key from a side drawer. ‘Sandra told me she locked the files in the top drawer this morning when she got here. She figured you’d forgotten them after everything that had happened.’ His gaze seemed heavier with the last words, and she felt it like a weight, like the weight of his body. She struggled to pull her mind back to the business at hand.
Ellis unlocked the drawer and gave it a tug, but it wouldn’t open. ‘Feels like something’s stuck,’ he said, jerking it hard. His hand slipped, banging his knuckle and abrading the tip of his finger in the process. He caught his breath and bit back a curse.
‘Are you all right?’ Forgetting herself, Dee was at his side in an instant, taking his hand in hers.
‘Fine.’ He forced a throaty laugh. ‘No blood, no loss of limbs. I’m fine.’ The nearness of him radiated over her skin. He smelled like outside. There was no distance between them, and dear God, he smelled like outside. She wanted to take him in her arms. She wanted to bury her face against his chest and breathe in the scent of him. Christ, what was the matter with her? How could she even think such things under the circumstances? It took them a second to realise that his fingers were curled around hers.
They both stepped back. Ellis offered a nervous laugh. ‘Right, let’s rescue these file folders for you then.’ He slid open the side drawer, and found a ruler, which he inserted into the breach then gently pried. ‘Who knows what the woman has tucked away in here?’ he said, offering her a sideways glance with a spark of mischief she’d never seen in any of the photos of Ellison Thorne. It made her insides feel like warm honey. ‘Wouldn’t be surprised to find a packet of some exotic fertiliser or a trowel, garden gloves. With Beverly nothing would surprise –’ The drawer gave and he caught the arm of the chair for balance as the whole thing nearly dislodged onto the floor.
Dee gave a little gasp, swallowing back the breathless laugh that had resulted from their shared moment of awkwardness.
Sure enough, the three file folders were on top. Ellis carefully extricated them. ‘Here are the rescued files, property of Jasper and McDowell.’ He read the black label across the top folder, as he handed them to her. Then he returned his attention to the open drawer. ‘And here’s the problem.’ Ellis pulled out the newspaper that had wedged itself in the drawer. It was the same one that had been on top of Beverly’s desk the last time Dee had seen her. On the front page Ellis and the governor of the great state of Oregon still smiled and shook hands as though nothing had happened, as though nothing had changed since the last time Dee had seen it.
Ellis chuckled softly. ‘You wouldn’t know it to look at her, but Beverly Neumann’s a sentimental packrat.’ He nodded to the large zip-lock bag nestled in the centre of the drawer, a bag full of clippings about Pneuma Inc. and Ellis in particular. ‘She keeps a scrapbook at home. Can you believe it? Someone as hard-nosed as Beverly has a scrapbook. I’ve never actually seen it, but she always lurks like a vulture with a pair of scissors whenever there’s a newspaper or magazine article about Pneuma Inc. She even saves napkins from the yearly staff appreciation party. She saves everything. Hell, half her library at home is probably filled with silly scrapbooks by now, and the woman has a huge library.’
Ellis placed the bag back in the drawer along with the newspaper, and shut it carefully. He took a deep breath and said, ‘Dee, about last night …’ A moment of silence stretched between them, and just when it was beginning to get uncomfortable, they both spoke at the same time.
‘Nothing like that’s ever happened to me before.’
The result was a wave of nervous laughter
‘Me neither.’ Again they spoke at the same time.
Dee was about to say something about extenuating circumstances and about the need for comfort when Ellis said, ‘You left without saying goodbye.’ His voice was suddenly tight-edged, his arms stiff, fingers pressed to the top of the desk.
‘You needed to rest,’ Dee managed, feeling as though her breath had deserted her at the mention of last night. She hesitated for a second, then added. ‘If I’d stayed …’
‘It might have happened again. I get that.’ He turned to face her, the mischievous sparkle back in his eyes. ‘Some things I don’t mind losing sleep for, Dee. And I promise you, if I’d been anything less than dead dog tired, you’d have never gotten away without waking me up.’ He offered her a crooked smile. ‘I don’t get sex that often, I don’t have time for it, but when I do, I make it a point to stay awake for as much as I can get.’
The butterflies were back, but the breath that had deserted her still wasn’t. Her pulse rate was breaking all speed records. Was Ellison Thorne telling her he was OK with what had happened last night? Was there even a hint at the possibility it might happen again? The smile on his face certainly would not exclude that possibility.
She was about to say that she personally didn’t need much sleep, and that she would be happy to keep him awake again sometime, when there was a sudden harsh knock on the door and Sandra burst in.
‘Damn it, Sandra, I think you’re supposed to wait till I say “come in” before you …’ The words died in Ellis’s throat at the sight of Sandra’s tear-streaked face, and Dee’s heart froze in her chest.
The secretary moved into the room as though she were sleepwalking. The sunlight from the window glistened against a single tear sliding down her thin cheek.
‘What, Sandra?’ Ellis breathed. They too moved like they were in a dream, moved around the desk until Ellis could lay a hand on the distressed woman’s shoulder. ‘Tell us.’
‘Beverly’s dead,’ the woman blurted. Her lip quivered and she forced back a sob. ‘She was with the eagles. Rope snapped. It was a freak accident. She fell from the tree and broke her neck. They couldn’t get a message back because of the storm.’
Afterwards, Dee remembered holding everything in, feeling as though if she let go, she would never stop crying. She remembered Ellis holding her, holding her so tightly. Then she remembered him settling her into the chair behind Beverly’s desk, giving Sandra a brief hug and fleeing. She found out from Sandra that it was Ellis who had arranged for her to sit with Beverly’s closest friends at the funeral, but other than the brief words of sympathy that passed between them after the service, that was the last Dee saw of Ellison Thorne for eight weeks.
Chapter Four
As difficult as it might be, an executive assistant could be replaced. A good friend, however, could not. No one else was Beverly. She left a gaping hole in Pneuma Inc. Ellis knew he couldn’t count on Wade for help. Wade’s domain was research. Wade was the creative force behind Pneuma Inc., but it had always been Ellis and Beverly who marketed and sold that creativity. Without Beverly neither Ellis nor Wade could have realised their dream, and without her it was hard to see the way forward.
But Dee wasn’t trying to replace his friend, Ellis reminded himself as he looked down at the previous stack of resumes she’d left with his secretary. Dee was just trying to do her job. And because Beverly had been Dee’s friend too, that job couldn’t be easy for her.
What he had taken as a joke only a few months ago was suddenly very serious business. Too serious, and too guilt-ridden, for comfort, so he had continually fobbed Dee off on his secretary each time she arrived with the resumes of prospective executive assistants. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see her. He dreamed
about her, he fantasised about her, and fuck if he didn’t masturbate to thoughts of her on the floor of his lounge in his arms. But he just couldn’t face her, not after everything that had happened. And now he couldn’t put it off any longer. He knew, as he had from the beginning, that there was really no need to look at any of the resumes. He had made a flippant promise to Beverly before she died, but it was a promise nonetheless. Then he had gone and complicated what was already a complicated situation by having sex with Dee Henning. None of that mattered in the end, though. What mattered was that it was time to stop avoiding the inevitable and honour his promise.
On his BlackBerry, he pulled up the email Beverly had sent him from some internet café in Manaus just before she headed into the rainforest. He could picture her there among the backpackers a third her age, probably striking up conversations with them, probably getting drunk with them at the local bar in the evening, and they would have relished her company. Everyone did. They would have been star-struck, half in love with her, remembering their time with her as one of the highlights of their travels. That was the way it was with Beverly. The email was the last he’d gotten from her before she died. He read it for the millionth time.
Ellis,
Just an addendum to the conversation we had earlier about Dee Henning. Before I lose contact with all things Pneuma Inc. to bask in blissful solitude of the rainforest, I want to make it clear how I feel. I’ve already told you she’s perfect for the position. And if you were ever going to implement the ESC, she’d be the one to do it with – that is if you’ve got the balls.
An Executive Decision (Executive Decisions Trilogy) Page 3
