by Ward, Deena
Gibson entered, then shut the door before he strolled over and took a seat in front of my desk.
I plopped down in my chair and stared at him. He was his usual calm, put-together self, looking as handsome as ever in an expensive, tailored suit.
As for me, I was anything but calm and put together. My mind was calculating possibilities and explanations at a furious rate. His gaze roved over my face and down to my chest while I considered my options.
Finally, I said, “I’m not a big believer in coincidence. What are you up to?”
He answered, “I’m considering the purchase of Linton Cosmetics.”
“Don’t be coy.”
He gave a brief laugh, a momentary “ha.” I don’t think I’d ever heard the man laugh before, had I? I couldn’t recall it, if I had.
He said, “I’m telling you the truth.”
I said, “So, I’m to believe that it’s some big surprise that you happen to be buying the company I work for, and you happened to discover that I work here, just now. It’s all some crazy, messed-up alignment of cosmic forces that has you sitting in my office right here, right now.”
He grinned widely. Damn, the man was a knock-out when he grinned.
“No,” he said, “I wouldn’t expect you to believe that.”
“Then tell me what to believe, Gibson. Tell me you didn’t know I worked here before you got here today.”
He said, “I can’t tell you that. I knew, I know everything, right down to your salary and benefit package and how many days of sick leave you’ve taken this year.”
I glowered.
He continued before I had the chance to say something rude. “In fact, I only came today because you work here. Normally, I’d just send my usual crew for an inspection of a minor acquisition like this.”
A minor acquisition. He knew my salary and benefit package. He was here because of me. I asked, “Are you buying this business because of me, because I work here? What are you up to?”
He didn’t even blink at my question. “How about, what would I like to be up to? Right now, I’d like to strip you naked, bend you over your desk, and spank your little ass until you apologize for the way you dismissed me at the club Friday night.”
Kerthunk, the sound my heart made at his answer. Were my eyebrows still on my head, or were they stuck to the ceiling?
He said, “As for why I might be buying this company, that’s been an ongoing discussion for a while now. Frank Linton approached my people about six months ago, wanted to know if we were interested in buying his family’s cosmetics business. So the answer is no, I’m not buying this company because you work here. I might not be buying Linton Cosmetics at all. That decision hasn’t been made yet.”
I got myself back in hand and said, “I see. So it is, after all, something of a coincidence, your being here today.”
“No, I told you. I came to see you ... mostly.”
I took a deep breath. “This isn’t a game for me, for any of us here. We need our jobs, and we need this company.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“I hope so. If you do buy, what are your plans for us?”
He looked at me for a moment, then answered, “I haven’t decided that yet.”
“We just heard about this today, you know, that the Lintons want to sell.”
He seemed surprised. “No, I wasn’t aware of that.”
“Well, they actually told Isabel yesterday. The rest of us found out this morning.”
“I see. That’s unfortunate.”
“Yes.” I waited, hoping that now he might offer me some reassurance about his plans, what we could expect in the future. Anything. Anything at all.
He said nothing. He only sat there and watched me.
I was confused. I knew nothing about how Gibson did business. I could hardly remember the name of his company. I discovered it when I did an Internet search on him, weeks and weeks before. Something to do with trees. Rain tree maybe. No. Round tree. That was it. Roundtree Holdings.
Remembering the name didn’t help with what I really wanted to know. A man like Gibson Reeves. So self-contained, unemotional and removed. And that was in his private life. I couldn’t expect him to have more compassion in his business life, could I?
No, that was ridiculous.
And then there was this other thing going around and around in my head. What, exactly, did it say about me that I couldn’t stop thinking about Gibson bending me over my desk and spanking me? Honestly. There had to be something wrong with me.
I recalled Isabel telling me to give our visitor whatever he wanted. I swallowed my nervous laugh.
Maybe I could get my mind out of the gutter if Gibson would quit looking at my lips.
Okay, focus. Think about this. If everything I had heard about him were true, he was a very successful businessman. I didn’t know exactly how rich he was, but from Michael’s account, Gibson had scads of money. Some of it he inherited, but much of it he earned himself.
So he had to be good at what he did. If he bought Linton Cosmetics, he would likely be an improvement over the losers who owned it now. Wouldn’t he? He would have to be. No one could be worse than the Lintons.
Maybe this was a good thing.
And Gibson seriously needed to stop staring at my breasts.
He needed to quit looking so damned handsome, too. Especially when he grinned. Yes, especially then.
I couldn’t help myself. I asked, “So you’re p.o.’d about how I ‘dismissed’ you the other night, huh?”
There was that grin. “I wouldn’t say I’m p.o.’d.”
“Oh, sorry. Appalled, maybe? No, too strong. Offended? I bet that was it. You were offended.”
His face went all smooth and polite. I had called it correctly, which gave me more than a little satisfaction.
He said, “It was nothing a good spanking wouldn’t cure.”
I smiled sweetly. “Sorry, I don’t swing that way. You’ll have to find another woman to warm your backside.”
“Are you sure about that? Your mouth says no, but your nipples say yes.”
What? I looked down at my chest. Sure enough, my nipples were hard. Well, that was embarrassing. Shouldn’t have worn that thin, lace bra today, but I’d been feeling sexy after the weekend and ... hell. Embarrassing.
I played it off with a shrug. “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s cold in here. The a/c is out of whack. You can fix it when you buy the place.”
“I’d say the a/c is working fine.” He stared pointedly at my chest. “If that’s actually what’s making your nipples hard.”
“When you visit potential acquisitions, are employees’ nipples a standard item on your inspection list?”
“Not historically. I’m making an exception for you.”
“That’s a first. I’ve never had a man tell me that ogling my boobs was some kind of special favor.”
“Isn’t it? Judging from the past, I’m confident saying that you enjoy having your breasts ogled.”
My heart gave a loud thump, and I was afraid my palms were getting sweaty. “It depends on who’s doing the ogling.”
He shook his head slowly. “I don’t think so. I think when it comes to displaying yourself, you’re a the-more-the-merrier kind of lady.”
Well, he had me nailed on that one.
I didn’t get a chance to reply before he added, “It’s one of your most attractive qualities.”
Yeah, my hands were definitely getting sweaty.
He said, “I’d like to see your breasts right now, actually. Why don’t you take off your shirt and bra and show them to me.”
It wasn’t a question. I felt a quick throb between my legs.
Hormones took over. I said, “I might do that. But I’ll be needing a little something in return. Say, I take off your shirt, and then I’ll take off my shirt.”
He considered my offer for a second, then said, “My jacket for your shirt and bra.”
I said, “Your jacket an
d tie, for my shirt.”
“My jacket, my tie, for your shirt and bra.”
“No deal. I want your shirt, too.”
“Okay then, let’s say, my jacket, tie and shirt, for your shirt, bra and skirt.”
I said, “You’ve got a deal.”
He said, “Are you coming over here, or will I be going over there?”
“I’m coming over there.”
I stood up and headed for the door to lock it.
He said, “I locked it when I shut it.”
Overly-confident ass, I thought. But I didn’t care.
I stepped in front of Gibson, reached out and ran my hands between his jacket and shirt. Mmm. The feel of crisp, starched cotton over firm, masculine flesh. I slid my hands across his shoulders, pushing back his jacket as I went.
He leaned forward and accommodated me while I slowly stroked down his muscled biceps, drawing the jacket down, stretching out the moment as long as I could. When I hit his elbows and couldn’t go any further, Gibson helped by pulling his arms out. I neatly placed his suit coat over the back of the nearby chair.
He settled back and crossed his hands over his stomach. “Your turn.”
I gave a sexy little smile, or at least what I hoped was a sexy little smile. Hovering my fingers over the top button of my shirt, I looked down at myself, then raised my eyes back up to Gibson, the promise of a slow, torturous reveal.
Then, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, I unbuttoned my blouse in a few short seconds, pulled it off and tossed it onto the chair over Gibson’s jacket. I leaned forward and grabbed the knot of his tie. For this, I would take my time.
Gibson appraised me in silence, his only reaction to my speedy disrobing a slight twitch of his lips at one corner of his mouth.
I tugged on the knot and loosened it a bit, then lifted his collar all around. More loosening of the tie, enough that I could put his collar back down but leave the tie outside of it.
Gibson stroked a single finger up my stomach to the bottom center of my bra, making me shiver.
I slowly lifted the tie, still knotted loosely, over his head, then put the tie over my head and left it to hang loosely down my chest, the knot nestled in my cleavage.
He said, “It looks good on you.”
I shrugged, all nonchalance ... complete pretense, of course. My heart was pounding like mad.
I stood up straight, reached behind my back and unzipped my skirt. I let it drop to the floor then stepped out of it, picked it up and dropped it on the chair. I also kicked off my heels and nudged them under the chair.
I said, “You get the shoes as a bonus. Isn’t that nice of me?”
Gibson said, “I can’t complain, except for one thing. You didn’t follow the order of the deal. Shirt, bra then skirt.”
“Hmm. I didn’t realize there was an order. If you wanted a particular order for things, you should have specified that before the deal was set.”
He said, “A valid point. I didn’t realize you were such an experienced negotiator.”
“Oh, I’m not.” I leaned down and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. “I just got lucky, I guess.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
I smiled, then opened another button. Then another, and another. Damn, I had planned to take my time with this, but I couldn’t help myself. I had never seen him completely shirtless, and I was impatient to get on with it. I had never seen him completely naked, either and I was fully prepared to do whatever it took to finally see his complete package, so to speak, today.
To hell with it. I unbuttoned the rest of the buttons, then went to work on the ones at his wrists. When I was finished with them, Gibson leaned forward and pulled his shirt off, tossing it onto the chair with the rest of our clothes.
I stood there for a second, taking in the sight of his muscled chest and arms, the taut skin over his flat belly. Mmm. Must touch.
I sat sideways on his lap and ran my fingers over his warm, smooth skin, gliding over the rises and falls of his musculature. Trailing my fingertips over the curve of his shoulder, I stroked my way down to his thick biceps, squeezed, smiling when his muscles tensed under my hands.
He said, “If this is a delaying tactic, it won’t work.”
“Huh? Oh. I’m not delaying anything. I’m taking a short break.” I stroked up his arms and back onto his chest again.
He said, “Fondling is a separate negotiation. You haven’t fulfilled our first agreement yet. Take off your bra.”
“In a minute.” I played my fingers across his small nipples.
“You’re pushing your luck. Welshing on a deal is a serious violation.”
“I’m not welshing. I’ll take off my bra.”
“Take it off now.”
“Okay. Give me a few seconds, though.” I lowered my head, placed a soft kiss where his neck met his shoulders.
I felt a tremble pass over his skin. Yes. That’s what I wanted.
He said, “Take off your bra.”
“I will. Just one more second.” I kissed my way around the base of his neck, and reached for his belt buckle.
Wow, the man could move fast. Before I could react, he slipped his tie over my head, grabbed my hands and bound me at the wrists. Just like that.
In considerable consternation, I stared down at my tied hands. “Hey! I need those!”
He said, “Not anymore, you don’t.”
I attempted an innocent expression. “I can’t take my bra off if my hands are tied.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“It won’t?” I asked. “Are you sure?”
I went to put my arms over his head, intending to pull him forward for a kiss, but he was having none of it, and dodged me. Then he surprised me by scooping me into his arms and standing up. What was this?
He kicked the chair backwards, away from my desk.
I said, “Be careful with that chair. It might be yours soon.”
He gave me a long look, shaking his head slowly.
I smiled. Really, really wanted to kiss him.
He lowered himself down on his knees, set me gently on my ass on the scratchy carpeting. He took my hands and raised them over my head, then pushed softly on my sternum, guiding me backward, until I was prone on the floor.
He leaned down over my face, his breath mingling with my own, sharing the same air. He stretched my arms out straight over my head, then did something more behind me. I turned my head to try to see.
He was tying my hands to the leg of my desk. I yanked my hands. Too late. It was already a done deal.
I turned back to him, his face a scant few inches from my own. I said, “You didn’t have to do that.”
He smiled a rare, free smile. “I did.”
I thought, he’ll kiss me now. I even raised my head a little in expectation.
No, not to be. He pulled away from me, and stood up, his body agile and fluid in motion.
He walked off, around my desk, out of my line of sight. I twisted my head to see. No good. I could hear him open one of my drawers and rummage inside.
I asked, “What are you doing? That’s my desk.”
He answered, “As you’ve been so fond of pointing out, it will probably be my desk soon, so quit fussing.”
Fussing? Really? Did he just accuse me of fussing? I bit my tongue and lay still on the scratchy carpeting.
Good grief. I was lying on the floor of my office, wearing only my bra and panties, tied to my own desk. I might not like that man, but he knew how to get me hot. What was he looking for in my desk? Something to torment me with, no doubt. The anticipation sent tingles dancing around in my stomach and between my legs.
He said, “Here they are,” then he walked over and kneeled down beside me.
I searched his hands. Scissors. He had found my pair of scissors.
Oh hell.
Chapter 6
I gave him a hard look. “What are you going to do with those?”
I had no fear that he might hurt me with the s
cissors, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t concerned about the use he might have for them.
He said, “It occurred to me that I can’t actually spank you, not the way I want. It’s too noisy, unfortunately.”
I held my breath as he opened the scissors and slid the blunt ends of cold metal over my skin then slipped them around my bra strap.
I said, “You wouldn’t.”
He shrugged. “You shouldn’t have welshed on our agreement.”
“I was going to take off my stupid bra. You’re just impatient.”
“I warned you. Three times. Now don’t move.”
The scissors began to close over the narrow strap.
I hissed, “Don’t you dare!”
He dared. Snip!
As soon as he pulled the scissors away, I remembered I had legs and started kicking up with my far leg, twisting to the side, trying to give him a good shove in the ribs.
He easily grabbed my flailing limb, forced it down to the floor then climbed on top of me and sat down hard on my thighs.
I made an oomph sound, said, “That hurts!”
He said, blandly, “No it doesn’t.”
Okay, so he was right. It didn’t hurt, and I don’t think he actually had all of his weight on me, either. Still ...
He said, “Now quit squirming, or you’ll hurt yourself.” And he brought up the scissors again, aiming for my other bra strap.
I didn’t argue with him this time. He would do it no matter what I said, and I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of trying to stop him again.
Besides, he didn’t know that I had some safety pins in my desk. I could use them on the bra straps to hold them together until I got home. So there, buddy. Nice try.
He snipped my other bra strap in two. Then he slid the scissors between my breasts, closing them over the white lace in the middle of my bra.
Okay, that wouldn’t be so easy a fix.
I said, “You don’t need to do that. You can just pull it down now.”
He said, “I know.”
Snip! Snip!
No! That was a tough one. I tried to convince myself that I could still fix it.
He looked at my chest, at what he’d revealed of my breasts, and my ruined bra. I was breathing fairly hard, couldn’t slow down.
