I didn’t wait for her response or her permission. Our mouths collided, opened for each other in the most carnal kiss I’d ever experienced. Her hands slid into my hair while mine gripped her hips, pulling her against me.
Damn, she fit against me like a dream.
Our tongues tangled, her taste all sugar and champagne, better than any fantasy could have been. I instantly wanted more, harder, deeper, and I took it, giving her a clear vision of what things would be like between us.
I wasn’t sweet and shy. I wasn’t the fairytale prince who made love slowly. No, if that was what she wanted, she’d better know now before we agreed to...whatever this was. I took what I wanted, but I sure as hell made sure I gave back twice as much.
And right now I wanted Paige under me, her supple body reaching for mine, her thighs spread and quivering.
I gripped her ass in both hands and lifted her, groaning as her breasts rubbed against my chest.
“Wait, don’t you want to see a draft of the agreement?”
“No,” I growled, taking her mouth again.
I carried her into the massive suite, every ounce of my concentration torn between the feel of her tongue and not falling on my fucking face. I’d never had a woman strip every thought with nothing but a kiss. Never been so consumed that I seriously debated propping her up on the corner of that dining room table and taking her.
But I’d never had Paige in my arms.
Finding the bedroom, I set her on her feet and spun her in my arms, my fingers unerringly finding the zipper on the back of her dress.
“But there are terms, and I have this...well, bucket list of sexy things I’d like to—”
“Not tonight,” I told her as her dress fell in a soft rush of silk to the ground. “While I’m more than intrigued by any sexy list you could think up with that insanely gorgeous brain of yours, tonight I just want my mouth on you.”
“Oh,” she said as I popped her strapless bra open. Her hands rushed up to hold it in place.
I inhaled her perfume, committing the moment to memory. Then I gently tilted her head to the side and set my mouth to the side of her neck.
She sighed and leaned into me. “God, that feels good.”
“Just wait,” I promised, my voice thick with barely-leashed want.
“Does this mean you agree?” Her voice shook the slightest fraction.
I ran my hand up the flat, toned muscles of her stomach to twine my fingers with hers. “Think of this as an interview. If we both agree that there’s something here, we’ll consider a second round.” Fingers locked, I pulled our hands away, and her bra fell to the floor.
She turned to face me, her eyes wide and luminous in the moonlight that filtered in through the windows. Stepping back, I looked down and sucked in a lungful of air. Her breasts were perfect with pink tips already drawn tight and waiting. Reaching out, I gently cupped one, reveling in its weight in my palm as she sighed.
“An interview,” she whispered.
“Shall we begin?”
Yes or no. She may have said she wanted it, but I needed to hear it from her lips, needed to know this was really what she intended.
“Yes.”
Sweetest word in the English language.
Cupping the back of her neck, I drew her into a kiss. She slid my jacket off my shoulders, and I let it fall to the floor with her dress before I picked her up by her tiny waist and laid her back on the king-sized bed.
I hovered over her, taking in every line of her body, learning with my eyes what I would explore and memorize with my hands, my lips, my tongue. She gripped my shirt and yanked, our mouths meeting in a frenzy of tongue and teeth. My dick strained against my pants, but there was zero chance in hell I was taking them off. I needed every barrier between us that I could get.
Breaking away from her mouth, I slipped kisses down her neck, across her collarbone, and down to her breasts. Her back arched and she let out the sweetest moan as I took one peak into my mouth, gently laving the crest with my tongue.
I’d been wrong before—yes wasn’t the sweetest sound, that moan was.
“You taste like honey,” I said as I moved to the other breast, willing myself to go slowly, not to blow it, both literally and figuratively. She was incredible, her skin softer than satin, and I stroked every inch her stomach, her breasts, her waist, until I reached the sweet flare of her hips. God, her curves would be the death of me.
Her legs moved restlessly as I placed hot kisses to the area her legs joined her hips, my tongue playing with the strap of her red lace thong.
“Rory,” she pled.
I took a fortifying breath and tried to say the alphabet backward in my head as I pulled the scrap of fabric down her thighs, over her knees and slender calves until her panties joined the rest of her clothing and she was finally, gloriously naked.
If this was a dream, I never wanted to wake up.
“Now you,” she said, raising up on her elbows.
“No,” I answered, tasting the skin of her knee, then her thighs.
“But…”
I looked up and nearly abandoned my own plan. Damn, she was sexy, and beautiful, and classy, and everything that definitely shouldn’t be in bed with a guy like me. “If this is going to work, we’re going to have to agree to something, Paige. You might be in control in that boardroom of yours, but I’m in control in the bedroom.”
“But I have a list—”
Without warning, I spread the lips of her pussy wide and ran my tongue from her entrance to her clit.
She gasped, her hands flying to my head. “Holy shit!” Her fingernails lightly scraped my scalp as she held me to her.
“See how much better it is when you stop thinking and start enjoying?”
I fucking loved her reactions, how honest they were. She wasn’t some rehearsed model who wanted my paycheck and my last name. Paige just wanted me.
Circling her clit with my tongue, I waited until she ground her hips against my mouth and then rewarded her with just the right pressure, the rhythm that started her keening, whimpering my name.
“So fucking perfect,” I groaned, soaking up every possible sensation of going down on Paige—her moans in my ear, her fingers in my hair, her taste bursting on my tongue. My cock was screaming, harder than it had ever been, but I’d never been more determined to keep it behind my zipper.
I licked, sucked, grazed my teeth across her, listening to her cries go higher, feeling her thighs tighten against my head, her breaths come quicker and quicker. It would be easy to get her off, a quick press of fingers just inside her, and she’d tumble right over. But I knew if I slipped my fingers inside her, my cock would be next, and that wasn’t what tonight was about.
When she was writhing, pleading for release, I locked eyes with her. Then I replaced my tongue with my thumb, pressing on her clit exactly how she needed and slid down. I gave in to my primal need to know every inch of her, and instead of using my fingers, I fucked her with my tongue, sliding in and out of her tight pussy until she came, screaming my name.
I closed my eyes and put a tight leash on my dick. I was a grown man for fuck’s sake, not a sixteen-year-old in the back of my dad’s car.
Paige wanted control, wanted to set every rule, run every deal, and keep everything neat and tidy. That wasn’t going to fly if she wanted me in her bed—in her life for the next three months.
I reared up over her and kissed her softly. “You are incredible, Paige. I could make you come for hours.”
She blinked up at me, her eyes emerald green. “That...you...I can’t…God, I can’t even think.”
“Good,” I said, lightly kissing her nose.
It fucking killed me, but I slid off the bed, and retrieved my jacket from the ground, sliding my arms through the sleeves.
“Wait, we’re not having sex?”
A smirk played at my lips. “Not tonight.”
“You don’t want…” her eyes dropped to the covers, and I immediately sat at
the edge of the bed and pulled her into my lap.
I waited until she looked up at me, her cheeks still flushed from her orgasm. Then I kissed her, long and deep, knowing she could taste herself on my tongue. I didn’t stop until she was as pliant as my dick was hard. Fuck, this woman tested me on every level possible.
“I want you,” I assured her. “I would love nothing more than to strip out of these clothes and slide into you. Just thinking about it has my dick pulsing, Paige. I’ve never been this turned on just by getting a woman off, and I’ve never craved someone the way I do you. But this is interview round one, remember?”
I kissed her forehead and gently put her back on the bed. Then I stood and put as much distance between us as possible before I changed my damn mind. She was too tempting for her own good.
“When do we start round two?”
I smiled despite the epic case of blue balls that was currently threatening to unman me for the rest of my life. “Why don’t you sleep on it, really make sure this is what you want.”
“This is what I want!” she nodded enthusiastically. “And I can see that you want it, too.”
I waited to speak until her eyes traveled back up my body.
“Well, I say that you need to wait. I’m not going to be a regret for you, Paige. I know you love control. You wouldn’t be the business woman you are without it. But if you want me, then this is on my terms, not yours.”
Her mouth dropped open, and I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing. It was going to be so much fun to rile her up over the next few months. I took a moment and let my eyes rake over her body from head to toe, savoring the delayed gratification because now that I knew how she tasted, how she sounded when she came, I knew we’d be explosive and worth the wait.
“Night, Red.”
Her mouth was still open when I walked out of the hotel room.
I punched the button for the ballroom and thought about the least sexy things I could while the elevator made its descent. By the time the doors opened, my situation was far less dire and way less noticeable, but something told me I’d be sporting a semi until I had Paige again.
“There you are. Jesus, I’ve been looking for you all night,” Mike, my agent, said, clapping me on the back and using his public smile as led me into a deserted hallway.
“I’ve been busy,” I said.
He glanced at my undone tie and snorted. “Apparently. Anything I need to worry about?”
“Quite the opposite,” I promised.
“Good, because I’m getting calls from the Sharks front office, and you are not on their bright and shiny list right now. You need to keep your nose clean and smelling like roses if you want any chance at renewing this contract.”
“I always smell like roses,” I said with a shrug.
“You smell like sex.”
“Guilty.” Amazing, glorious sex.
“For fuck’s sake.”
“Exactly,” I laughed.
“Rory, I’m not fucking kidding. They’ve got your name on the chopping block, and they’ve made calls to Chicago to see if Armstrong would be up for a trade.”
My stomach twisted. “Shit.”
“Exactly,” he repeated, mocking my earlier word. “Now take your ass home and figure out how the hell you’re going to become the poster boy for Seattle Shark hockey before you lose your damned jersey.”
I nodded, the severity of the situation hitting me like a sucker punch. I didn’t say goodbye to any of the guys or acknowledge any of the women as I left the party.
Before, Paige’s suggestion had seemed appealing for the sake of getting her in bed, and the off chance that I might be able to convince her I was worth more than three months.
Now it looked like I was going to have to agree not just because I wanted her, but like she’d said—because I now needed her.
I’d never needed a woman, and I didn’t intend to start now.
But I might not have a choice.
Chapter 4
Paige
My barista brought me another tall Americano and scooped away the empty mug I had sitting on my preferred table, nestled in the back corner of my favorite coffee shop.
“Thanks, Anne.” I graciously took the steaming hot mug and inhaled the rich aroma before returning focus to my opened MacBook.
I didn’t like going into the office on Saturday’s if I could help it. I already clocked in seventy-hour work weeks, and I knew if I started making the “occasional” weekend visit, I’d end up living there. Still, I had the new financial reports for the end of the fiscal year to oversee, and I found the café an easy compromise when taking my work home with me.
My cell vibrated on the table, the screen lighting up with the one number I couldn’t ignore.
“Hello, Father. Are you back in town?” I pressed the phone to my ear, scanning the empty tables surrounding me.
“Just landed an hour ago. George is driving me home. Your mother has a dinner party planned. Are you attending?”
“Not tonight. I’m still digging through the financial reports. By the time I’m done, my brain will be mush, and no match for Mom’s guests.” She always invited the most eclectic group of people—from intellectuals to hippies—and keeping up with the proper conversation eidetic quickly grew exhausting.
“You could pass them off to me and then I’d have the excuse.” Dad chuckled.
“You’ve already been over them twice. You deserve the party anyway. I’m sure sorting out the east coast developments gave you one hell of a workload.”
“True. I’m eager for the day I leave this all in your capable hands.”
My heart raced, the excitement of finally running the company blooming in my chest. “Well, I’ll be happy to take it off your plate.”
“Speaking of plates, it seems you not only bought a seat at Matt Donaldson’s event but enough for an entire table as well. Were you so taken with the cause?”
I sucked in a quick breath. It’d been a week since the night that ended too soon with Rory Jackson, but the memory was fresh and piping hot in my mind.
“I was,” I replied, forcing all thoughts of Rory’s expert tongue from my mind. You’re on the phone with your father!
“Assisting those in developing countries to grow and maintain their water supply is essential for them to thrive,” I continued hurriedly. “And Donaldson had more than done his due diligence with a well-prepared business model of how our donations would be used and the return it would give each location. Couldn’t pass up the opportunity to be a part of it.”
“You have your mother’s heart and my brain,” he said. “I’m sure he appreciated your donation, but the next time you want to drop three million in the cause, perhaps give your old man a heads up?”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes.
The money didn’t make a dent in what my father had spread between numerous accounts. Being in the dark was what irked him. “Of course. I only didn’t inform you because you were out of town. And besides, I made the donation in the company’s name. It will be good for the cause and PR.”
“Smart girl. Now, about that dress…”
I face palmed myself. Damn it. I’d thought Jennifer Laningston’s fall outside the entrance of the Four Seasons would be enough to leave any shots the paparazzi had gotten of me in the trash. Father must’ve searched for it, or more likely he had my name on google alerts for whenever it hit the media. “It was a red carpet event—”
“Understood.” His tone implied there was a silent but attached to the end of the response. Cue lecture in three, two…
“Paige,” he said my name like I was fourteen again, asking to wear a halter top that had been all the rage back then. “You’re about to be named CEO of the company that has given life-blood to our family for generations. It’s successful because of what our family stands for. For our morals. We’re a good, wholesome American family, and our public appearances have to show as much.”
I’d heard the speech s
ince I was old enough to pick out my own clothes and answer questions at press conferences. There was no need to re-lecture me on it. I was twenty-eight years old for God’s sake.
“One question from the public on the purity of our lives could lead to questioning the purity of our products,” he said, and I remained silent—as was expected of me. “Sales could drop. Thousands of our employees would be out of jobs. You know we take care of our own, and when you become C.E.O., it’s not just about your needs anymore. It’s your responsibility to ensure the stability of our employees’ positions. Some of them have been with us for over thirty years. We can’t be frivolous with our actions. We can’t be impulsive…”
My father’s voice tuned out as my mind shifted focus, hovering over the word impulsive and drawing up an image of Rory’s deep blue eyes as they peered up at me from between my thighs. A warm shiver danced up my skin, teasing me with an intense ache I wanted soothed by only one man—a man who was the absolute definition of impulsive—and one who was a major risk I wasn’t sure was worth taking.
“I only want what is best for you and the company,” Father continued, and I blinked away the thoughts pulsing red in my mind. I took another sip of my Americano instead of stopping him. I knew—and had known—every stake of taking over our company for years now.
The bell on the coffee shop’s door rang, and I about dropped the mug of hot coffee in my lap.
What in the absolute hell?
Rory Jackson walked up to the counter, a pair of dark blue jeans hugging his hips in all the right spots. A light gray t-shirt clung to his cut abs and chest, and the casual look was beyond sexy on him. Maybe even hotter than the tux and just shy of his Shark’s jersey. What is he doing here?
I watched as Anne flustered behind the counter, taking his order and trying to control the giddy-school-girl grin on her face. I was instantly transported to that night, where he had touched me more intimately than anyone had before and yet he hadn’t touched me near enough. The ache that had barely left returned with a vengeance as his smile lit up his eyes.
Enforcer (Seattle Sharks Book 2) Page 4
