Love On My Mind

by Tracey Livesay

  “I REFUSE TO participate,” Adam said, not taking his eyes off his center monitor.

  “You can’t refuse. You need to do this.”

  “Can’t you read the speech? Why do I need to perform it for you?”

  “Because the more times you do it, the more comfortable you’ll be. And remember, you aren’t reading a paper, you’re giving a presentation. Don’t memorize your speech word for word. Learn broad talking points and then elaborate.”

  “This is absurd.”

  She took a deep breath, trying to summon her patience. “I know this is uncomfortable for you, but it’s really important.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. You’re not being challenged to stand in front of a crowd and bare yourself to strangers.”

  “Hmm,” she murmured. “What if I bared myself to you? Would that help?”

  He swiveled in his desk chair and sat forward. “Absolutely,” he said, his voice dipping to a husky register, “but not the way you intend.”

  “You don’t know my intention. Maybe that’s been part of our problem. I thought I knew your intention, assumed you had enough of your own motivation to help get you through this presentation. But maybe you need some outside motivation.”

  His eyes gleamed with interest.

  After her phone call with Howard, she’d decided to put all of her focus on the presentation. It was much simpler that way. But the next time she’d seen Adam, he’d pulled her in for a panty-­melting kiss, ruining all of her plans. She’d spent the past two days in a blissful mix of business and pleasure. Lessons on engagement and rapport were interspersed with sexual sessions in the master bedroom, the guest bedroom, on the couch, and against his desk of destruction. Still, she never got comfortable. The moments when she felt his gaze on her and looked up to find him staring, she knew it was all an illusion. If he found out she’d lied to him about how they met, that she’d been hired by the computer company to get him ready for the presentation, he’d never forgive her, and anything he was starting to feel for her would curdle into hate.

  She raised her hand. “Mr. Bennett?”

  He shook his head. “Chelsea—­”

  She pitched her voice high and waved her hand in a flapping motion. “Mr. Bennett?”

  He exhaled, thumbed his ear, and answered. “Yes?”

  “Mr. Bennett, Chelsea Grant from Mountaintop Today magazine.” She worked hard to keep from smiling, though her muscles strained to show her amusement. “It seems like there are new tech items hitting the market daily. How is yours different?”

  Adam waved her off. “This is ridiculous. It doesn’t—­”

  He halted and considered her hand, which she trailed down the front of her shirt and used to unsnap the button on the front of her jeans. His eyes widened and his Adam’s apple—­ha!—­bobbed as he swallowed.

  “Mr. Bennett? How is yours different?” She held the fly’s flap with her left hand while her right hand poised over the zipper.

  His gaze jumped from her hand to her face and back again. “Since the first PC, very few products have been revolutionary. But in the same way the iPod changed the music industry, I believe the HPC will change the way we use personal computers.”

  Chelsea smiled. “Very good, Mr. Bennett.”

  She slid the jean’s zipper down, the metal teeth separating the only sound in the room. She shook her hips—­adding an extra shimmy for him—­pushed the material down her legs, and kicked them off. She stood in a sheer maroon silk T-­shirt, black panties, and nothing else.

  Adam stood, but she held up her hand.

  “Uh-­uh,” she chided, shaking her head.

  “Chelsea.” His voice was strangled and the evidence of his longing was imprinted against the front of his jeans.

  “Not yet.”

  She winked, and with a tilt of her head, raised her hand. Would he play the game with her?

  “You,” he said, pointing at her. Lightness warmed her chest.

  “Who is your target demo for this device?” She gripped the bottom of her T-­shirt in both hands, stretching the material away from her body.

  “I think everyone will be able to use this device. It has the potential to replace your personal desktop or laptop computer.”

  She gave him an approving nod and whipped the garment over her head until she remained in her bra and panties. His gaze staggered her with the force of his desire. His chest rose and fell and his hands clenched briefly and released at his sides. Despite his obvious longing, he answered her question in a clear and concise manner. She wanted him so badly, she was ready to leap across the space and tackle him, but she also wanted him to be ready for the launch in two days.

  “What will be a successful market share for your first year out of the gate?”

  She’d thrown him with that one. It was more of an insider question and not an easy lob like her two previous queries. It took a moment for his mind to shift gears as he put on his tech hat and stuffed his lust back in the closet.

  “There’s a segment of the population who consider themselves tech ­people, even though they are not in this industry. If we can get a large number of them interested in our device, we’ll have a real shot at carving out a place for ourselves in this market.”

  It would’ve been easy for him to throw out lots of figures and take minutes to answer the question. What he’d done was succinct and informative, without coming off as condescending and long-­winded. What a transformation.

  She hopped up onto the back of the sofa, reached behind her, and unsnapped the clasp on her bra. Her breasts sprung free, swaying slightly. Her nipples pebbled when the cold air hit them and she heard his audible intake of breath.

  “You’ve convinced me, Mr. Bennett. Consider me a fan for life.”

  She’d barely got the sentence out before he closed the distance between them, grasped the back of her head, and kissed her.

  Their tongues dueled and she wrapped her arms around his waist. He tilted her head back as he devoured her mouth. His hands roamed over her body, through her curls, down her back, around her front to cup her breasts. She moaned and he wrenched his mouth from hers and trailed kisses down her neck. Bending low, he took her left nipple into his mouth and suckled, pulling on the tight bud. Her core throbbed and moisture pooled between her thighs.

  Adam knew her body as well as she did and she was learning that intensity was inherent to this man. When he focused on something, he gave it his full attention. And she was the latest lucky recipient.

  He dropped to his knees before her, startling her. She clenched her fingers in his hair, the satiny strands soft against her fingers. He looked up at her and she froze. His blue eyes were wide and his pupils were dilated.

  “Can I taste you here?” He placed his palm against her core.

  He was the one genuflecting before her and yet she feared he would eventually bring her to her knees. She shivered with need and nodded. He pressed kisses along her inner thigh, the heat from his breath teasing her sensitive flesh. She moaned and tightened her grip in his hair. He licked over her fabric-­covered center, the surprise causing her to arch up and move closer to his mouth. He repeated it and she squirmed against the sofa, her abdominal muscles straining to keep her in place. She was ready to fall apart and he hadn’t even removed her panties.

  That situation was quickly remedied as he pushed the fabric aside, baring her to his eyes. The air in the room whispered over her heated flesh, goose bumps popping out on her arms. He leaned forward and stroked his tongue through her folds, and she jerked upward, bucking against him.

  He loved her slowly and leisurely, as if nothing else was important and her pleasure was the only thing he cared about. He took his time, drawing out the sensation, making it last, and just when she thought she would come from the pleasure, he stopped. It was so close. She could feel it, taunting her. Sh
e squeezed her eyes shut. She was afraid to move, afraid that any movement would bring it on and she wanted to share this feeling with him. The feeling of standing on a precipice, with one foot out over the edge. Where she was equal parts safe and equal parts imperiled.

  “Wait for me, sweetness.”

  She could hear him. Her closed eyes and existence in a sexual trance had heightened her other senses. She heard the shirt slide from his skin, the pull on the zipper descend, the heavy fabric hitting the floor, the tearing of the foil. Then he was touching her, hooking her knees over his elbows and pulling her toward him. This was it. She knew she wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer.

  “Chelsea. Look at me.”

  She did, opening her eyes and gazing into his heated stare.

  “No confusion about who’s claiming you. You’re mine and I’m yours. Okay?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  With a triumphant grin, he surged into her. Her breath caught in her throat at the rightness of the coupling. She clenched around him, welcoming him home as he repeatedly thrust into her. She wrapped her arms around his neck as she kissed his cheek, his ear, his jaw.

  “You feel so good,” he said, leaning his head on her shoulder.

  She felt the abyss calling her, whispering to her, letting her know it was there, waiting for her to tumble into it. She answered the call, falling headfirst into pleasure unlike anything she’d ever experienced.

  “Chelsea,” he shouted, as he came inside her.

  She clenched her legs around his hips and held him to her as waves of pleasure rippled along his frame. Finally, they were both still, their breaths feathering the other, their hearts beating strong. Adam lifted his head and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

  “Can I request this same reward on the actual day of the presentation?”

  She laughed and his answering chuckle rumbled through his body. She stroked his hair from his forehead and succumbed to the sensations enveloping her. The world could end at this moment, and she’d be content. Lying in his arms, there was no place she’d rather be. She thought about the moments of happiness she’d felt in the last few years. They usually involved work. How much brighter and more gratifying would it have been if Adam had been by her side, celebrating those triumphs with her?

  In between one breath and the next, her world tilted on its axis and when it righted itself she knew she had fallen in love with him. The joy she felt thickened to sludge when she imagined him learning her secret. If he discovered she was lying to him before she had the opportunity to explain, he would hate her forever. But if she confessed now, how would that affect his presentation?

  Sure, she was concerned about her own employment issues. She’d worked hard, and for a long time, to earn this opportunity. But Adam also deserved the victory that would come from a successful launch. And anything that divided his focus risked that success. Maybe if she had more time. The launch was two days away. There was no scenario where she thought she could confide in him now and he’d be ready to go on Friday. No, the presentation was the more pressing objective. She’d get him through it and then she’d tell him the truth.

  And hope like hell he’d forgive her.

  Chapter Seventeen

  THE DAY BEFORE Computronix’s product launch there was a tangible buzz in the Moscone Center. ­People scurried to and fro all around her, carrying bags, clipboards, and the ubiquitous tablets and smartphones. The sense of excitement was palpable.

  Adrenaline raced through Chelsea and she squeezed Adam’s hand, pressing her body against his arm. The lights, the energy, the chaos all reminded her of the various award ceremonies she’d attended. No matter the field, ­people were eager to be in the presence of greatness. As they took the steps to the lower level, everyone recognized the man next to her.

  “There’s Adam Bennett.”

  “Wow, the rumors are true.”

  “What is he doing here?”

  “No one’s seen him in over a year.”

  Chelsea bit her lip and executed a sideways glance, but she needn’t have worried. He was resolute, his entire being focused on the upcoming presentation.

  When they reached the door to the main conference area, Adam showed his credentials to the guard. The man referred to his clipboard and granted them access to the room.

  The inside was arranged in a manner similar to many other press conferences she’d attended. Recessed and stage lighting flooded the rows of chairs placed facing forward. At the front of the room, three large screens projected Computronix’s logo. A stage had been constructed in front of the center screen, and a man stood there now, his body appearing minuscule against the backdrop of the thirty-­foot surface. Two chairs sat on the left side of the stage and a podium was situated on the right side. Technicians scrambled around them fine-­tuning the sound system, adjusting the lights, and taping down cords to avoid stumbling hazards.

  “Check one. Check one.” A familiar voice boomed through the speaker.

  “There’s Mike.” Adam smiled and headed toward the front of the room.

  Dread claimed residence in Chelsea’s chest and she pressed a suddenly shaky hand to her midsection. She hadn’t spoken to Mike Black since that day at Beecher & Stowe. She didn’t know what he’d been told or if Howard had warned him that she’d be there, but she needed to speak to him before he could say or do anything to ruin her relationship with Adam.

  “No delays with setup. We’re running on schedule,” Mike was saying to Adam as she approached.

  “Great. There’s someone I want you to meet. Chelsea?”

  She stepped from behind Adam, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. Mike’s smile dissipated from his handsome face and he stared at her with wide eyes. Not good. She rushed her greeting, ending the budding awkward moment and attempting to set the tone of their introduction.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said. “Adam has told me all about you.”

  Mike pulled on his bottom lip, his brows smashed together into a confused arc. “I can’t say the same. He’s been secretive where you’re concerned.”

  “That’s not true,” Adam said. “Chelsea’s the neighbor I mentioned.”

  She wasn’t sure what Adam had told him, but based on his reaction it couldn’t have been favorable. Mike stiffened, his shoulders going rigid beneath his black tee. His nostrils flared and he studied her with the same disdain an A-­list celebrity gives the paparazzi. She smoothed her hand down the sides of her pencil skirt and shifted in her strappy heels. If only she possessed the ability to disappear.

  “Sorry. She’s not quite what I was expecting.”

  Adam slid an arm around her waist and pulled her to his side. “You’re forgiven. Not only is she stunning, she’s also extremely talented. Chelsea’s in the entertainment business and she’s been assisting me with the presentation.”

  “Really?” Mike said, his expression hardening like quick-­set cement.

  Her smile sat heavy on her face. Adam seemed oblivious to the tension in her body, conversing easily with his friend. Was it wrong of her to be slightly grateful that his Asperger’s shielded him from the shame and guilt that seeped from her pores?

  “She helped me with the CGR feature. The one whose continued incompletion had Anya labeling me as a terrorist.”

  Mike narrowed his light blue eyes. “I guess we should thank you on behalf of Computronix,” he said, his tone caustic.

  “It was no problem.” She met his heated stare.

  Please, don’t say anything. I promise I’ll explain.

  Mike firmed his lips and glanced at Adam. “Some of the tech guys have a question about connecting the HPC to the large screen display. Can you walk them through it?”

  Tears pooled in her eyes and she allowed her lashes to flutter closed. Thank God. It appeared he was providing her the opportunity for which she’d m
entally begged.

  “Chelsea?” Adam’s soft grip on her elbow induced her to open her eyes. “I’m the only person who will touch the HPC until after the presentation. Do you mind?”

  “Don’t worry about Chelsea,” Mike answered in her stead. “I’ll keep her company. She can talk to me about what’s she done to get you ready for the presentation.”

  Adam frowned. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” She forced a smile. “I’ll be fine. I’ll stay here and talk to Mike.”

  He kissed her. “I’ll be fifteen minutes.”

  As he pulled away, she reached up and briefly touched his cheek, halting his escape. She stared into his eyes, memorizing every plane and angle of his sexy and intelligent face. God, she loved him. “Go get ’em.”

  One last kiss and he jogged off to the stage, a tempting sight in dark jeans and a merlot-­colored cashmere sweater.

  When Adam was out of hearing distance, Mike turned on her. “What the hell is going on?”

  “I can explain.”

  “I wanted you to get him ready for the presentation. I didn’t think sleeping with him was required to accomplish that goal.”

  She flinched as his verbal arrows hit their intended target. “It’s not what you think.”

  “Really?” His tight smile reeked of condescension and rendered his attractive features anything but. “Are you telling me you haven’t slept with him?”

  “That’s none of your business,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “I’m his best friend. I’m making it my business. If you knew him, you’d know how serious this is.”

  His concern deflated her indignation slightly and she sighed. “I do know him and that’s the only reason I’m going to address that issue. I didn’t set out to get involved with him. I fought our connection until . . . I couldn’t.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “I’m not.” She hadn’t found anything humorous about this situation for a while.