by Foster, Lori
Feeling more in control with distance between them, she turned to face him again, and answered his direct question. “We’re coworkers, Eric, and it’s not . . . ethical.”
He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his trousers, which served to pull the fabric of his pants tight across his burgeoning erection. “We’re more colleagues than coworkers,” he pointed out in a practical tone of voice.
“It doesn’t matter.” She crossed her arms over her chest, and wished her breasts didn’t feel so sensitive, so achy. “I make it a rule not to mix business with pleasure, and that means not going out with someone I work for. Period.”
“Don’t you think we already crossed that line of yours with the kiss we just shared?”
Her face warmed at his blunt reminder of her eager participation in their embrace, and since she couldn’t come up with a snappy reply, she glanced up at the number panel and mentally counted down the floors. Twenty . . . nineteen . . . eighteen . . .
“Look,” Eric said, and casually strolled over to where she stood. “You’re at Massey on a temporary basis as a freelance creative director, so it’s not as though you’ll lose a job if you decide to date me and someone finds out about it.”
Lose her job? No. But she wasn’t about to jeopardize her standing with the firm in any way, since there was no telling what the future might bring, or if she’d need a reference or another freelance project with Massey.
And that thought was enough to make her think twice about involvement with Eric, no matter how much he tempted her to say yes.
“In fact, we both know you only have a few weeks left at the firm,” he continued, the first tinges of frustration threading his voice. “So don’t you think we could make an exception to that business/pleasure rule of yours?”
The man was relentless and it took all of her strength to refuse him. “No.” She kept her eyes glued on the flashing numbers. Twelve . . . Eleven . . . Ten . . .
“How about when the Enchanted Cruise Line account is contracted and your part in the project is over?”
She looked his way and sighed softly. Regretfully. “Massey is turning out to be a huge, lucrative account for me and my agency, so any involvement with anyone in the firm, let alone someone in your position who has the power to approve freelance employees for certain projects, just isn’t smart.”
He narrowed his gaze, seemingly hurt that she’d lump him into such an unsavory category. “You think I’d use a personal relationship against you?”
“It’s happened to me before.” The words slipped out before she could stop them, but maybe he needed to hear the brutal truth from her. And maybe she needed to remind herself, as well.
He appeared taken aback by her candor, and for the first time ever, speechless.
Nearing her stop for parking garage two, she crossed the elevator and picked up her briefcase, then forced herself to meet his gaze again. “How about we forget that the kiss ever happened?”
“You can do that?” His voice rang with disbelief.
She was certain she’d never forget that soul-stirring kiss, and would most likely relive it every night when she tried to fall asleep. Not that she’d ever tell him that.
The elevator came to a smooth stop where her car was parked, and the doors opened silently. “I just think it’s the smartest thing for us to do.”
He caught her arm before she could exit, his sensual lips tightening with determination. “I think I proved there’s something between us worth pursuing,” he said, and released her. “Just think about it, Jill.”
As if she’d be able to think of anything else.
Chapter Two
He had to have her.
Eric quietly and covertly scaled the stone wall to Jill’s backyard, knowing there was no other cure for the surge of lust that had gripped him during and after the kiss he’d shared with Jill. And nothing, absolutely nothing, had taken the edge off the raw sexual energy riding him hard ever since.
He’d spent an hour working out at the gym, and had even met his sports enthusiast brother, Adrian, for a fierce game of racquetball. He’d managed to beat Adrian’s ass, just barely, and even that victory hadn’t eased the tension thrumming through his veins. Probably because his sibling had accurately guessed that it was a woman who had him all tied up in knots, and Adrian hadn’t hesitated to rib him unmercifully about his inability to score with this particular female.
As a last resort, Eric had tried a more conventional method of taming his arousal with a cool shower, all to no avail. Or relief. He was still hard with wanting her, he thought in disgust.
He had to have her. It was that possessive, all-consuming thought that had driven Eric to more extreme measures. While pacing across his living room floor to help shake off his agitation, he’d come to the conclusion that the only way to bypass Jill’s issue of mixing a working relationship with pleasure was to cater to her fears, and that meant keeping the two totally and completely separate. Business would remain at the office, and pleasure and fun would come after-hours, in a private, intimate setting he planned to establish this evening. No one would ever find out that they were seeing each other outside the office, so there wouldn’t be any conflict of interest for Jill to worry about. Or any threat to her standing with Massey and Associates.
All he had to do was convince her to agree to the private affair he had in mind.
Now, after climbing over the stone wall surrounding the front of the Victorian house in which Jill lived on the far end of a quiet residential street, he moved stealthily through her backyard and kept close to the lush foliage clinging to the one-story structure. Dressed in a black T-shirt and jeans, and staying well hidden in the shadows of a few long-limbed trees, he waited patiently for the right opportunity to put his plan into motion. To set the stage for a beguiling seduction beyond anything she’d ever imagined, and one she wouldn’t be able to refuse. At least not easily, if the combustible kiss they’d shared in the elevator was any indication.
He caught sight of Jill through a window leading into what appeared to be the kitchen. Adrenaline and anticipation rushed through him, and he continued to watch her as she poured herself a glass of wine, then disappeared down an adjoining hallway.
Keeping to the outer recesses of the yard, he followed her through the length of the house with nothing but moonlight leading his way, until she finally entered a large bedroom with a king-size, four-poster bed dominating the room. The French doors leading to a tiled patio were wide open, giving him an unobstructed view of every move she made.
A brass lamp on the dresser gave off a soft illumination, and he watched as she strolled into the bathroom, set her glass of wine on the rim of the tub and turned on the faucet. She added a generous amount of bubble bath to the churning water before returning to the bedroom, where she stripped off her T-shirt, heedless of anyone’s presence.
Eric’s mouth went dry when her lacy bra followed, baring to his gaze, her gorgeous breasts, which looked full and firm in contrast to her slim waist. The tips were crowned with raspberry-hued nipples, and it didn’t take much to imagine them trembling against his stroking fingers, so sensitive beneath the soft scrape of his teeth, and hard and taut as he suckled her into his hot, hungry mouth.
He bit back a low groan at the lustful thoughts tumbling through his head. His groin throbbed, and he pressed a hand to his aching shaft, doing his best to rearrange and accommodate the erection straining uncomfortably against the fly of his jeans.
Her shorts came off next, sliding down her long, slender legs, leaving her clad in a pair of silky bikini panties that looked insubstantial enough to rip off her in the throes of passion. The thin fabric didn’t quite conceal the shadowy cleft between her thighs, and the sight of her standing there half naked and completely uninhibited was enough to bring him to his knees. He could only hope that he’d be fortunate to find himself in such an erotic position with her, to be able to press her thighs wide apart with his hands, inhale her warm female sce
nt, and taste her desire with his lips, and the soft lick of his tongue.
He had to have her . . .
He scrubbed a hand through his thick hair, every nerve in his body strung tight as he waited for her to remove that last scrap of material. Much to his surprise and disappointment, she left her panties on while she dumped her clothes into the hamper, retrieved a pair of underwear and a nightgown from an armoire, then returned to the bathroom and the billow of steam curling from the tub. Setting her change of clothes on the vanity, she switched on a radio to a soft jazz station, turned off the water, and in one smooth motion shimmied out of her panties.
Sweet Jesus. Eric exhaled hard as he was graced with a quick glimpse of the smooth slope of her back and the more enticing curve of her buttocks, before she stepped into the steaming water and sat in the tub, immersing herself up to her neck in frothy bubbles.
He remained outside for another five minutes, just to make sure he had himself under control, and giving Jill time to lose herself in the relaxation of her bath.
Then silently, he made his way up to the house and came to a stop just outside the open double doors. Like the phantom lover he hoped to become, he kept himself blended in with the night shadows . . . and waited for the fantasy to unfold.
Jill finished off the last of her wine and sank deeper into the tub of lukewarm water, wishing that the one guilty pleasure she indulged in when she was feeling uptight would do the trick of subduing the tension thrumming through her body. No such luck. The fragrant heat of the water, mellow music, and sweet wine had relaxed her mind, but her body remained restless and needy. And it was all Eric Wilde’s fault for instigating such a thorough, dominating kiss, and for planting provocative, tempting ideas in her mind of the two of them together.
Sexually. Intimately. Carnally.
Her stomach clenched as another rush of desire settled low, beckoning her to finish what Eric had started in the elevator. She’d been excruciatingly aroused ever since she’d felt the hard length of his erection against her belly, and tormented by wicked thoughts of his thick shaft impaling her in a sleek, heavy glide, stretching her, filling her with hard, sure thrusts.
Her head rolled back against the rim of the tub and a low groan escaped her throat. Her sex tingled, pulsed, and she knew exactly how to give herself the satisfaction her body screamed for. Feeling defiant, she curled her fingers into tight fists against her sides, stubbornly refusing to cave in to her body’s demands. She was so damned tired of the solo, self-induced orgasms she’d resorted to for the past year and half. She wanted—needed—a man. Specifically, Eric. She hungered for his touch, and the warmth and firmness of his big hands branding her flesh. She ached to feel his mouth on her breasts, her belly, between her thighs.
Frustrated and aggravated at the direction of her thoughts, as well as Eric’s hold over her even in the solitude of her own home, she pulled the plug on her bath and abruptly stood up, determined to put her mind and restless energy to better use—such as immersing herself in the work she had piling up in her office—until she was too tired to think of anything but sleep. And then maybe, hopefully, she wouldn’t dream of a certain dark-haired, blue-eyed bad boy who’d starred in her most carnal fantasies for the past three months.
A man who’d made it clear with a kiss and the suggestion of an affair that he wanted her just as much as she craved him.
Water cascaded down the length of her like a lover’s caress, and her breasts tightened painfully as beads of liquid trickled over her erect nipples and down her belly. She shivered and, gritting her teeth against another onslaught of feverish sensation unfurling along her nerves, grabbed a towel and methodically patted down her wet skin, careful to keep the terry material away from ultra-sensitive places.
Slipping into her panties and chemise, she cleaned up the bathroom, then padded back into her master bedroom. Plucking the pins from the hair she’d twisted into a tight knot at the back of her head, she tossed the clips onto her dresser and let the long, wavy strands unravel until the ends fell halfway down her back. Separating the thick mass into three sections, she began braiding her hair so it didn’t end up tangled around her head by morning.
“Leave your hair down.”
Startled by the deep, masculine voice she’d heard, she dropped her unfinished braid and whirled around, her gaze scanning the room in a quick sweep. She caught a subtle movement just outside the open French doors. Heart racing, she tried to make out the shadow, wondering if it, and the sexy male voice she’d heard, were all a product of her overactive imagination.
A summer breeze blew outside, rustling a light sprinkling of leaves across the patio. The sultry warmth swept through the room, fluttering her silk chemise around her thighs. Her skin tightened, and the little hairs on her arms prickled to attention just as a large silhouette moved into the open archway, the unmistakable size and build of a man. Silvery moonlight glinted off his dark hair and gave him a surreal aura.
She gasped and took a step back, ready to brandish the brush in her hand as a weapon, if need be. “Who’s there?” she demanded.
The man entered her room, bold as he pleased. But instead of running for the phone to call for help, she stared in stunned disbelief, more intrigued by Eric Wilde’s presence than she would have liked. His hair was tousled in wild disarray around his head, and he wore tight black jeans that molded to lean hips and long, muscular legs, and a black T-shirt that stretched taut across his chest. He looked dark and forbidding as original sin, and dangerous in a way that excited her.
She swallowed hard and found her voice again. “What are you doing here?”
He moved toward her, a lazy smile curving his sensuous lips. “You’ve been waiting for me,” he stated confidently, his tone as pretentious as his entrance into her private life.
She opened her mouth to deny his claim, and quickly snapped it shut again. Despite whatever game he was playing, she couldn’t lie. She’d dreamed of him too many nights to count, a fantasy lover who came to her in the dark of the night to fulfill her desires. She’d just never expected him to appear in the flesh. And she’d never expected him to look so good, so sexually intense.
He strolled past her to her dresser with a pantherlike grace that brought all her feminine senses to keen awareness. There was power beneath that control he exuded—power she sensed that once unleashed would have the ability to consume the woman he was with. She wanted that heat and strength to consume her.
She continued to watch him, mesmerized, as he lifted one of her perfume atomizers to his nose and inhaled the fragrance. He closed his eyes as he did so, making it seem like an erotic experience in which she wanted to share. When he lifted his raven lashes again, his eyes were filled with a raw hunger, directed solely at her.
She began to tremble, from the inside out, and struggled to maintain the upper hand in this scenario. “Did you know that breaking and entering is against the law?”
“I didn’t break in,” he said, his voice low and amused. “You left your doors wide open, which isn’t safe, by the way.”
She rolled her eyes heavenward. “I’ve lived in this house all my life and there’s never been a problem with prowlers in this neighborhood . . . until tonight,” she added meaningfully.
He absently touched the other feminine things on her dresser, his fingers lingering on her personal items. “I’m not a prowler.”
She eyed him critically, taking in his choice of clothing, his arrogance, and the way the entire length of him radiated pure, unadulterated sensuality. “At the moment, you look very predatory to me.”
“And you like it.” His gaze slid from her face to her chest, then back up again. “The fast-beating pulse in your throat is a dead giveaway, as are the hard nipples pressing against your nightgown.”
She resisted the urge to cover her body’s response to him with her hands and deny his too accurate claim.
He slowly circled around her, so close she could feel the heat of his body, the subtle brush
of his hand over her silk-clad bottom. “You’re filled with anticipation,” he murmured huskily, “wondering what I’m going to do, if I’m going to touch you, or kiss you, or if I plan to strip you naked and have my way with you right here and now.”
God, how did he know her so well that he could verbalize her thoughts and know exactly what she ached for? “What do you want, Eric?”
He stopped in front of her. In direct contrast to his dark attire, his eyes were a stunning, sultry shade of blue that made her weak in the knees. “There’s no sense beating around the bush in terms of what I want. I’m here to issue you a proposition.”
She was too curious to hear the rest of what he had to say to interrupt him with her own immediate misgivings.
“We both want each other, that much we established earlier in the elevator,” he said, brazenly reminding her of her wanton behavior with him. “But since dating is out of the question because of how public it would make our relationship and attraction, and you’re nervous about risking your reputation with the company, I’d like to propose a fantasy world, one that stays just between the two of us and is only visited at night.”
She frowned, not quite grasping his concept, or precisely what he meant. “A fantasy world?”
He nodded slowly. “In this private, intimate world we create for the sole purpose of satiating our desires, I’ll be your phantom lover who comes to you only in the dark of night to fulfill your deepest, most erotic fantasies. In this fantasy world, you can be completely open and uninhibited with me, ask for anything you want, and whatever we say or do will stay in this room and go no further. And when the freelance project at Massey is done, we’ll part amicably and go our separate ways.”
The impulse to accept his scintillating offer clashed with a wealth of insecurities, and deeper uncertainties.
She chewed on the inside of her cheek, staring at the enigmatic man in front of her, noticing how he’d taken great pains to transform himself into a fantasy lover, all for her benefit and peace of mind. All because he wanted her badly enough to present her with a nonthreatening, anything goes, sexual escapade, along with the assurance that nothing would go beyond what they shared in this bedroom.
